Immortal Reign(93)

“Nerissa,” Amara began. “You have to believe me that I want to help.”

“I do believe you,” Nerissa replied. “And I agree that ensuring the safety of Lyssa needs to be a priority. She must be returned to her mother immediately.”

“Good. So where do you suggest we start?” Amara eased herself down upon the chaise to take the pressure off her leg. The sun streamed in through the windows along the opposite side of the room. Through the windows she could see the crystal-blue waters of the Silver Sea.

“Let’s say I go along with this,” Felix said, pacing the gilded ceramic floor of Amara’s chambers like a caged beast. “I go and scour the city, checking Mikah’s old hideouts for rebels that are still breathing, and I enlist them to join us in his rescue. After that, we wrestle the baby away from the clutches of evil granny. And what then? What happens to you?”

“Then . . .” Amara carefully considered this. “I will still rule as empress.”

Felix groaned. “Isn’t that convenient.”

Amara’s heartbeat quickened. “I can! I’ve seen the error of my ways, that my grandmother has been far too instrumental in the darkest of my decisions. I don’t place the blame fully on her, of course. I chose to do what I did . . . just as my father would have selectively listened to his advisors.” She winced at the thought that she’d turned out to be exactly like the man she’d hated all her life. “But I can change, I can be better. And now that I’ve discovered that my grandmother has been manipulating me for her own gain, she will no longer be such a strong influence on me.”

Felix raised his one visible eyebrow. “You honestly believe every piece of that soggy horse dung coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”

He spoke with such disrespect that she got the overwhelming urge to scream so that her guards would arrive and have him arrested.

Then Amara reminded herself, yet again, how much Felix had endured because of her. Most men wouldn’t still be standing, let alone breathing.

He was strong. And she needed that strength today of all days.

“It’s not horse dung,” she said firmly. “It’s the truth.”

Felix looked at Nerissa, shaking his head. “I can’t listen to this for much longer.”

Amara realized Nerissa’s attention hadn’t shifted from her for a moment. Her former attendant studied her carefully, her dark eyes narrowed, her slim arms crossed over her chest.

“There’s no time for debate,” Nerissa finally said. “Felix and I will go search for local rebels, and I pray that we find enough who are willing to help.”

Felix finally sheathed his blade, but his expression hadn’t softened even a fraction. “If we find them, I know they’ll help. Mikah was a great leader.” He frowned. “Is a great leader. Nothing has changed there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Amara said, wanting to assist in any way she could.

“No,” Nerissa replied. “You will stay here and get ready for your Ascension. Act as if everything is normal.”

Frustration coursed through Amara, and she awkwardly pushed herself up from the soft chaise and back up to her feet. “But everything is not normal—far from it!”

“All the more reason for you to pretend that it is. We do not want to raise the suspicions of your grandmother more than they already are. If that happens, she won’t let anyone within sight of either Mikah or Lyssa. And Mikah will die, executed in a dark room with no one to help him.”

Amara wanted to argue more, but she saw the wisdom in Nerissa’s words. Finally, she nodded. “Very well. Please return as soon as you possibly can.”

“We will.” Nerissa moved toward the door without further hesitation.

Felix backed away from Amara slowly, as if he expected her to plunge a dagger into his back the moment he turned away.

“If you’re lying yet again,” he said before he left the room, “you will regret it very, very much. You hear me?”

And then they were gone, and Amara was alone, wondering if she’d made the correct decision. Then again, any other decision would have resulted in her bleeding on the floor right now, gasping for her last breath.

This had been the right thing to do.

Still, it felt as unnatural and awkward as trying to walk on a broken leg.

Amara tried her best to go about the rest of her day as originally planned. She meditated, bathed, and then took a midday meal of fruit and light pastries, which she barely touched.

She had a final fitting for a new leg brace that would allow her to walk from now on unassisted by a cane. It was better, but she still couldn’t hide her limp.

Then she waited as long as she could before allowing an attendant to paint her face, lining her eyes heavily in black coal, brushing her lips with a dye that would make them appear as red as rubies.

Another attendant styled her long black hair, creating an intricate maze of braids.

Finally, they helped Amara into her Ascension gown with Lorenzo supervising, pride for his magnificent piece of artistry shining in his eyes.

“You are as beautiful as a goddess today, your majesty,” he said as the heavy wings were placed onto her shoulders.

Amara looked into the mirror at her heavily made-up eyes, the color of her irises the exact same pale gray-blue as Ashur’s were.