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“Empress Rising,” she said firmly.

“Empress Rising,” the crowd echoed.

Taristan’s lips moved with them, his voice drowned out.

When silence fell again, cut only by the distant thrums of the city, Erida offered the smallest nod to her court.

“It’s good to be home,” she said slowly, her voice regal and deliberate.

Lord Cuthberg scurried to her side, moving like a jeweled insect. He chattered incessantly, the words washing over Erida in a numbing tide.

“—the Temur ambassador arrived yesterday with his retinue. I put them in the Lady’s Tower for now. Ambassador Salbhai requests an audience—”

Erida’s jaw clenched, her teeth grinding together.I’d rather burn the tower down with all the Temur in it, she thought. Instead, she forced a painful smile.

“Very well, see to it,” she spat out.

Only then did Taristan move, taking long strides to reach her. His polished boots crunched on the gravel.

Erida felt as if the air had been sucked out of the gateyard. She kept still, her chin high, unflinching before the eyes of the entire court. In her mind, she cursed her thundering heart. Taristan was a prince of Old Cor, blessed by What Waits, the most dangerous mortal to walk the earth. There were many good reasons to fear him.

Erida only feared his indifference, his distance, and another second beyond his grasp.

She remembered all too well the white scars on his chest, the black void of his eyes when the red sheen ebbed away. The feel of his heart beating beneath her palm.

She hoped they would not remain memories.

When he sank to a knee before her, her fear evaporated into thin air.

Her fingers were suddenly hot, held in his familiar, burning hand. Shestared as he pressed her knuckles to his fevered brow, though his skin was dry. He was not ill. This was usual for Taristan, his flesh blazing with the power of What Waits. Reverent, he pressed his lips to her hand and stood again, moving with warrior speed.

“My queen,” he said roughly, her hand still in his own.

She could not smile. Even now, she would not give the court the satisfaction of her happiness. That was for Erida and Taristan to share alone.

Her eyes roved over his face, tracing the strange cut on his cheek.

She wanted so badly to touch it.

“My prince.”

Erida loathed the idea of marriage for most of her life.

She had no desire to enter a bridal cage, and trade her throne for an overstuffed lord. Most of her days were spent outfoxing betrothals, playing foreign princes against each other as she moved armies into place. Her survival depended on the support of her nobles, and their support rested on what she could give them. Instead of marriage, she promised glory, gold, and conquest. The empire reborn.

Even so, her advisors pushed for marriage. Harrsing, Thornwall, they wanted their queen wed for her own safety. Her loathsome cousin Konegin wanted her wed for his own benefit. She dodged them all.Find me a champion, she told them once, knowing the target too small to hit.

Taristan found her instead, offering his hand—and all the realm.

The Crown Council balked at such a match. Taristan was no one. No land, no titles, no gold. He claimed Corblood but little else, naming himself the successor of Old Cor, a prince of the fallen empire. That wasn’t enough for Erida either.

But it was enough to keep her curious. She watched, wide eyed, asthe handsome rogue drew a dagger and cut a line across his palm. She remembered his blood being too dark, darker than she imagined blood could be. Even so, she leaned closer, only to watch him heal before her eyes. Only to see the gleaming scarlet of someone else in his gaze.

Erida once wondered if she would ever regret her decision to marry Taristan of Old Cor.

Now she laughed at the thought, her face pressed up against Taristan’s chest. Only silk separated her from hard muscle and hot skin. He burned through his clothes and she leaned into the feeling, even as a bead of sweat rolled down her back beneath her gown.

They were alone, finally, back in the solar of the royal chambers. The long gallery looked over the palace lagoon, where her own pleasure barge moored. In the windows, the sky glowed red with sunset, and the first stars winked to life. A small part of Erida wanted time to slow, and leave them suspended here, locked together, with nothing but their two beating hearts.