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I beckon her closer. She blinks at me with a hesitation I didn’t expect, but then gets to her feet and glides over.

As she takes her new seat, I stay standing by my high chair, watching the tables fill up with my court. When the last few stragglers have entered, I clear my throat. The guards poised behind me stomp their feet to emphasize my call for attention.

The entire room goes silent.

I lift my voice, keeping it calm and steady.

“I want to say a few words before we enjoy our breakfast. How sad is it that someone among us took out their grievances on this treasured palace that’s held the imperial family and its court for many generations, rather than expressing their concerns to me directly?

I hope if any of you have matters you’d like to discuss, you’ll do so and let me address the issue rather than acting out. ”

With that, I sit down and accept the plate a server sets in front of me.

I’ll need to be even more careful what tone I set over the next few days, but I think that was a good start. Framing their peers’ actions as a childish temper tantrum rather than a legitimate act of protest should diffuse some of the power of the display.

A buzz of conversation rises around me. It’s hard to concentrate on any strand of it when my thoughts are still whirling in my head.

Bianca lets out a quiet huff. “Idiots, the both of them. Sabrelle isn’t the only godlen who watches over the imperial family anyway. I’d say Creaden would be proud of how much you’ve built here, as much as I know of him.”

My lips twitch with half a smile. Something in her words niggles at me, like a spark gusted out before I can see what it’s lighting. If I looked at it in the right way…

I can’t quite put my finger on it when my mind is already so cluttered.

I speak wryly instead. “At least I’ve never known you to have much interest in painting.”

I mean the remark as a joke, but Bianca’s expression twitches.

“Indeed not,” she says hastily. “And certainly not anything so garish as well.”

She pauses, looking down at her plate with her forehead so furrowed I start to worry she thinks I was actually accusing her of plotting treason.

When she speaks again, it’s in a softer tone.

“I’m glad we know each other so well. To be honest, you’re the only person in court I’ve ever felt I could trust. I can’t imagine wanting to give up something so priceless.

You can always count on my support, however I can best offer it. ”

“I know that,” I assure her, with a pang through my chest.

How much have I done to support her ? Surely there’s more Bianca would want out of the rest of her life than tagging at my heels? I believe the words she just said to me, but she’s also seemed out of sorts these past few weeks.

Perhaps there’s more I should do for my friend, as she’s done for me. When I have a break from godlen-driven traitors to focus on that problem too.

After breakfast, the court heads out to the gardens, but I veer up the stairs toward the imperial quarters instead. “I’m going to meditate briefly with my godlen and clear my head,” I tell my guards, and ask a page we pass to have the nursemaid bring Coraya to me.

Once I’m in my apartment with my daughter in my arms, though, I don’t kneel in supplication. I sink down on my bed as I did the day I told my princes they’d have to leave me, cuddling Coraya close.

Sprite leaps up and tucks her furry body against my thigh. I stroke her back too.

I just need to gather myself so I’m ready to face the coming conversations and jostling of the court. Clear all this chaos from my head, brace my spirits, set the fears and the grief aside.

My breaths glide in and out of my lungs at a slow, even pace, but the ache inside me only expands. How can I say for sure I’m doing any of this right?

What if I never see any of my lovers again? What if my confession doesn’t earn the trust of the royal families but brings down doom not just on me but my daughter too?

A cautious voice carries from by the door. “Aurelia?”

I look up to meet Marc’s gaze. He takes a couple of steps toward the bed and then halts. Concern shimmers in his eyes.

What do I say to him—this man whose place in my life has changed so much, who honored the men he should have hated, who proved he could accept every part of my relationship with them… and despite all of that, who can’t ensure they return any more than I can?

A sob hitches up my throat before I can contain it. Marc’s expression stutters, and then he’s striding the rest of the way to me without waiting for further invitation.

As he sits next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulders not so differently from how Bastien hugged me a week ago, I close my eyes against the burn of tears.

When I don’t pull away, Marc tightens his embrace. “They’ll make it back. I’ve seen how determined they are to be here for you. I can’t believe there’s anything they’d let stand in their way.”

They could face obstacles they won’t have a choice about, but it doesn’t do any of us good to dwell on that possibility. And Marc still doesn’t know about the greater risk I took that affects not just my lovers but my own security.

It doesn’t matter. It was the right decision, the only way I could be sure of convincing the conquered royals of my intentions while it can still matter.

Valerisse stole my chance to gradually ease our world into the future I dreamed of.

I drag in another breath. “I know. I can do this on my own. I just… would rather not. And it’s harder to stay focused here when part of me can’t help wondering what’s happening to them.”

Marc brushes a gentle kiss to my temple. “You still handled this morning’s incident well. I know you’ll win the rest of court over even more when you step back out there today. Those two idiots were never going to be satisfied with you.”

He pauses, and his voice gets rougher. “And that’s mostly my fault.”

“And also your father’s and Linus’s,” I have to say. “But I suppose Saldette and Syrus might have hated me for taking away the chance that their daughters could become empress even without the violent trials.”

Marc lets out a strained laugh. “We did drag you into a lion’s den, didn’t we? But you keep rising above it. And you’re not alone. I’m not going anywhere, not as long as I can serve you.”

He goes quiet again, his head tipping against mine. I hear him swallow.

Then he says, even lower, “I didn’t get to be the one to say it when the moment was official, but I don’t mean it any less. I swear before all the gods to love and honor you from now until my last breath leaves me.”

My throat constricts. Fresh tears well up, but they’re bittersweet now instead of all grief.

I turn my head instinctively, seeking out his lips.

Marc cups my cheek through the kiss, steady but not demanding. When we draw apart, the gleam in his eyes reminds me of the way he looked at me naked while he added just a tiny portion to the pleasure my lovers were stirring in me.

No, not just lovers. By then, they were my husbands too.

Because of him.

A flicker of heat ripples through my limbs alongside my pulse, but I’m not in a state to pursue it. I can’t offer him the gold ring he gave me to hold on to that night or repeat back the words that clearly mean so much to him either.

We’ve come a long way… but I don’t know how much farther we’d have to go before I can completely give my heart over.

With his next comment, Marc reminds me of just how far apart we still are in certain ways. “And whatever you said in those letters, I doubt there was anything more you could have done to persuade the outer territories to fulfill their duty to defend the empire.”

I have to bite back an ironic laugh. I’ve kept the details of those plans secret even from him because it’s hard to imagine he’d approve of me offering those kingdoms their freedom from the empire—and confirmation of my past crimes to hang me with if I fail to deliver.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” I say.

Coraya has been dozing, but now she blinks and squirms in my arms with a disgruntled murmur. Marc studies her and reaches out, his hand hesitating for a second before he grazes his fingertips over her hair. “You be good to your mother, future empress.”

Hearing the affection in his voice despite the fatherhood he lost provokes a renewed ache around my heart. “She’s always good. She just doesn’t have many ways of expressing herself.” I click my tongue at her and earn a smile.

Marc chuckles. “Look at that face. You can tell she’ll be just as clever as you.”

I glance up at him and take in his expression as he beams down at her. The ache swells into a more tender sensation.

Maybe I can’t return his full devotion, but I can offer him something.

I tilt my head to give him a peck on the cheek. “I consider Raul and Lorenzo her fathers, you know, in every way except the one only Bastien can claim. And you’re her father too. You looked after her as well as you could from the moment you found out she was on the way.”

Marc’s hand stills, his gaze jerking to me. When he manages to speak, his voice has gone raw. “Not every way. I still think about—if I’d stood up to Linus sooner?—”

“We don’t know where we’d be then. All we have is where we are now. And you’ve been making something impressive out of that.”

Marc gazes at me a moment longer as if awestruck. With a rough sound, he leans in and claims my lips with a more thorough kiss than before.

He only pulls back when Coraya makes a squawk of protest .

Her face starts to scrunch up on the verge of a wail. I laugh and yank at the lacing of my dress. “She’s hungry. Just a moment’s patience, little one.”

Marc keeps his arm around me as I bring Coraya’s mouth to my breast. Resolve ripples through his voice. “We’ll make sure all her fathers come back, for her sake too. No matter what it takes. Anything I have to do to open up the way, I will.”

His last sentence quivers through my mind like that remark of Bianca’s did earlier. Perhaps because I’ve let out some of the anxieties that were gnawing at me, this idea takes deeper root.

My spirits leap. I put my gift to use to find more ways to open myself to the gods’ support once. Why shouldn’t I do it again—with the godlen who cares most about seeing all families thrive?