Immortal Reign(80)

“Your beautiful face . . .” Her grandmother met her gaze in the mirror’s reflection. “You looked so pained and worried for a moment there.”

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Good.” Neela came close enough to touch the fine stitching of the gown. “Lorenzo, you have created a true masterpiece.”

“Much gratitude, my queen,” the dressmaker said. “It is only by your grace that I have been given the incredible honor to dress the empress.”

“It’s everything I dreamed it would be,” Neela said, sighing with appreciation. “What about the wings?”

“Yes, yes. Of course. They are the most magnificent part of my creation.” Lorenzo reached into a silk bag and pulled out a large but delicate golden piece. It fit over Amara’s shoulders and gave the illusion of golden wings.

Amara gritted her teeth, finding the addition to be a rather heavy and unnecessary burden. But she chose not to complain, since they added an ethereal, otherworldly touch.

“Perfect,” Neela breathed, clapping her hands. “Today you will have everything I have ever wanted for you. I am honored to have been able to make all this possible.”

In the week since Amara had visited Mikah Kasro in his forgetting room, where he would stay until he was brought out for his execution during the ceremony, she’d tried not to think about their conversation. A part of it had stayed in her mind, though, like a piece of stubborn food between her back teeth, nearly impossible to dislodge.

“Your grandmother only believes in her own desire for power,” he’d told her.

“I’m so glad you approve,” Amara said softly. “Did you come here just to get a glimpse of the gown, madhosha?”

Lorenzo pricked her again with his needle, and she slapped his hand away. “Enough,” she scolded him. “Enough fixing of things that are already perfect.”

Lorenzo backed away from her immediately, bowing deeply. “Yes, of course.” Again, there was that fear in his eyes. It was the same kind of fear she remembered seeing in the eyes of those who looked upon her father.

Such power over others should please her.

Instead, it gave her a cold, empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I will be a good leader,” she’d told Mikah. “My people will love me.”

“And if they don’t?” he’d countered. “If they rise up and try to change what has been thrust upon them through no choice of their own, will you have them put to death?”

“Dhosha,” her grandmother said sharply, as if she’d tried to get her attention more than once while Amara was lost in her thoughts.

“Yes?”

She looked around, pulling herself from her thoughts. Lorenzo was no longer in the room. She hadn’t even noticed him leave.

“You asked me if I was here only to see the gown,” Neela said. “I am not. I’m happy to say that your gift has finally arrived from across the sea.”

Amara shook her head. “You really didn’t need to get me a gift, madhosha. You’ve already done so much for me.”

Neela smiled. “But this gift is special. Come with me now to receive it.”

Amara changed back into her casual gown and shawl. The rest of the day would be one of relaxation, meditation, and rest. Then she would be coiffed from head to toe, paint applied precisely to her eyes and lips, her black hair plaited and threaded with jewels, and the finished gown would be the last touch before the ascension ceremony itself.

Leaning on her cane, Amara followed Neela through the hallways of the Emerald Spear. They passed several servants, all with eyes lowered to the ground. To look the Kraeshian royal family directly in the eyes was not permitted, since Amara’s father had felt it was confrontational.

Priests and augurs also filled the halls, clad in long purple robes. They had journeyed to the Emerald Spear from across the empire to be a part of the Ascension.

The long corridors were lined with intricately embroidered rugs that had taken a commissioned artisan half a lifetime to complete. Amara realized she’d never paid much attention to the beauty of her surroundings, to the exquisite vases and sculptures and paintings that peppered the palace halls, many obtained from the kingdoms her father had conquered.

Stolen, not obtained, she reminded herself.

These were the possessions of former kings and queens slain by the emperor as he moved across this world like a plague.

What am I thinking? She shook her head to clear it of such dark thoughts.

Her father was gone. Her older brothers gone.

She’d heard not a word about Ashur.

Amara knew she would be different from those who had ruled before her.

They climbed the private spiraling staircase to the sixth floor and walked down another long hallway. At the end of the hallway was a familiar face, one that made Amara’s worries disappear and her smile return.

“Costas!” As she drew closer to her trusted guard, he bowed before her. “How lovely to have you here to help me celebrate this important day.”

“Empress,” Costas said. “I am here by request of Queen Neela.”

Queen Neela. She’d noticed that many addressed her grandmother in this way now.

But of course they would. She was the closest relative and the most trusted advisor of the empress.