Immortal Reign(55)

“Of course, you were right to have made this choice,” Amara finally said. “However, I do wish you’d consulted me first.”

“The result would have been the same, only delayed. Some problems require immediate attention.”

Amara limped a few paces away, her grip on her cane painfully tight. “I’m curious who it is in my compound that has been sending you so many detailed messages.”

A small smile touched Neela’s lips. “Someone who will be arriving soon with a very special gift I have acquired for you.”

“Intriguing. Care to share more?”

“Not just yet. But I believe this gift will be incredibly useful to us both for many years to come. I will say no more since I want it to be a surprise.”

Amara forced herself to relax. Despite the jarring news of Gaius’s assassination, she knew she needed to give thanks for her grandmother’s intelligence, strength, and foresight, rather than question it.

“The Jewel is beautiful and calm again,” Amara said after a peaceful silence fell between them. She had strolled around her garden, touching her favorite rocks and remembering the very place she’d put the aquamarine orb when it had briefly been in her possession.

“It is,” Neela agreed. “Most of the rebels were put to death immediately upon arrest, but we have their leader here in the palace awaiting execution. Since he was previously a servant here, I thought it would be fitting for him to meet his death publicly at your Ascension ceremony. Symbolic, really.” She raised her chin. “A symbol that we shall survive despite any threats to our rightful power.”

Amara picked up a sun-warmed piece of jagged obsidian, its shiny black edges reflecting the sunlight. “A servant, you say? Anyone I may have known?”

“Yes, indeed. Mikah Kasro.”

Amara’s grip on the stone tightened painfully.

Mikah was a favored guard who’d been at the palace since the two of them were children.

“Mikah Kasro is the leader of the revolution?” she repeated, certain she’d heard wrong.

Neela nodded. “The leader of the local faction, anyway. He was responsible for the prison break, which killed nearly two hundred guards, after your departure for Mytica.” Her expression flashed with disgust. “Shortly after that, he made a direct attempt on my life here at the palace. But he failed.”

“And I’m so very grateful he did fail.”

“As am I.”

“I want to speak with him.” It was out before Amara even realized what she was asking.

Neela’s brows raised. “Why would you want such a thing?”

Amara tried to think it through. To visit a prisoner, especially one whose goal was to overthrow her rule, seemed ludicrous, even to her. “I remember Mikah was so loyal, so kind, so honest—or at least I thought he was. I don’t understand this.”

He liked me and I liked him, she wanted to add. But she didn’t.

It seemed that spending so much time in Mytica, with its deceptive and passive-aggressive people, had stolen her gift for the absolute bluntness Kraeshians prided themselves on.

Her grandmother now frowned deeply, regarding her with curiosity. “I suppose it can be arranged. If you insist.”

Amara needed this. Needed to speak with Mikah and understand what he wanted, understand why he would choose to rise up and try to destroy the Cortas family—even now that her hateful father and all but one of his male heirs were dead.

Amara glanced at her grandmother. “Yes, I insist.”

Amara had threatened the guard at the Paelsian compound, the one who had shifted his loyalties to Lord Kurtis, with turning his cell into a forgetting room.

Mikah Kasro had been locked in such a room in the Emerald Spear for several weeks.

Amara leaned on her cane as she entered the empty, windowless room, flanked by guards, to see that Mikah’s hands and feet were shackled. He wore only ragged black trousers and had several weeks’ growth of beard on his face.

There were deep cuts on his chest and arms, and his left eye was bruised and swollen shut. His shoulder-length long black hair was matted and greasy, and his cheeks were gaunt.

But his eyes . . .

Mikah’s eyes burned like coals. He was only a couple of years older than Amara, yet his eyes were wise and steady and filled with bottomless strength, despite everything he had endured.

“She returns,” Mikah said, his voice not much more than a low growl. “And she blesses me with her luminous presence.”

He sounded so much like Felix that she had to wince.

“You will speak to the empress with respect,” one of the guards snapped.

“It’s fine,” Amara said. “Mikah can speak to me however he likes today. I’m strong enough to take it. Hold nothing back, my old friend. I don’t mind at all.”

“Old friend,” Mikah repeated, snorting softly. “How funny. I once thought that might be possible—that a mere servant and a princess could be friends. You were kind to me, so much kinder than your father. And much kinder than Dastan and Elan combined. When I heard you killed them, I celebrated.”

Amara pressed her lips together.

“What? You think it’s still a secret?” Mikah asked, raising a dark eyebrow at her.

“It’s nothing but a poisonous lie,” she said.