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I grope for a diplomatic approach. “Your authority is undeniable, high commander. But I’d like to hear what my guard has to say, in case it sparks some new idea. Outside perspectives are often useful that way.”

Axius’s expression stays grim, but he isn’t going to deny the request from me. He waves brusquely at Marc. “Go on, then.”

Marc starts again in an unusually cautious tone. “I thought perhaps there might have been soldiers with gifts that would be useful for subtle methods of undermining… It might be something considered in the past, even if not implemented yet.”

Axius’s scowl deepens. “I don’t see any inspiration in that, only a lot of vague imaginings. Of course we’ll consider the gifts of the soldiers. If that’s all you have to say, we’ll get back to our discussion.”

Marc looks as if he’s bit his tongue. His gaze darts to me for just a second, and abruptly I understand.

He isn’t just speculating. He knows something that either Axius doesn’t or has forgotten—but it’s something no ordinary guard could possibly be aware of. He can’t say more without raising an awful lot of questions he knows I wouldn’t want asked.

It mustn’t be something he feels he could simply tell me and let me appear to discover it on my own, or he wouldn’t have spoken up in front of Axius at all.

The huge secret he’s carried on his shoulders for weeks is holding him back… from helping me. From serving me and his empire as well as he’s able.

That doesn’t seem right.

Axius is watching me, waiting for my agreement to continue the conversation. How much farther could we get with it—with all our strategy sessions—if the man who once led the army alongside Axius could speak freely?

My heart thuds faster, but all at once my fears seem absurd. Axius wants to save the empire just as much as I do. He wouldn’t use the basic fact of it to destabilize my rule. As long as the information isn’t presented in an incriminating way…

And does any part of me believe now that Marc would act to hurt me?

The answer comes without hesitation, without thinking.

No, I don’t. I might not be completely sure how I feel about him , now or at some future point, but I’m absolutely certain of his loyalty to me.

And perhaps that’s exactly why there’s only one sensible thing to do.

I look at Marc again, my voice steady despite the racing of my pulse. “Just tell him. He can handle it.”

Marc’s eyes widen. “Aur—Your Imperial Highness?”

“It’ll make everything easier.”

He just stares at me, his stance gone rigid.

I restrain a huff of frustration and turn to Axius. “Doesn’t anything about him feel familiar to you?”

Axius is staring at me too, a furrow digging deeper into his forehead with every passing second. Gods, at this rate he’s going to think I’ve gone insane. Does Marc really believe that’s?—

“Your Imperial Highness,” Axius begins slowly.

Marc pushes forward, striding to the edge of the table a few feet away from me.

He speaks swiftly but firmly. “Fourteen years ago, you and Emperor Tarquin discussed the possibilities of undermining rule across the border using illusionists. The project ended up abandoned, but only after you’d pulled together a team of soldiers with appropriate gifts and given them some additional training in subterfuge. ”

Axius’s stare jerks to my husband. At first, he can only gape. “You—how would you know that? No one knew. You couldn’t have been more than a child.”

“I was thirteen years old,” Marc says quietly, “and my father felt that was old enough to be a part of most of his strategy discussions for when I took over the throne. I was the only other person ever in the room when the two of you discussed it. Even the soldiers involved were never told what they were being assembled and trained for.”

Axius’s throat works. Most of the color has drained from his face beneath the graying beard.

His voice comes out in a croak. “Marclinus? But I—You—I saw?—”

One side of Marc’s mouth kicks upward at a wry angle.

“You saw my corpse. That was… a rather complicated situation. Suffice to say I did die, and I’m now only Marc.

I’m not sure it does anyone any good getting into the specifics.

All that matters is Aurelia has earned her place leading this country, and I’m no longer in a position to do so, so I intend to support her every way I can.

I hope you can accept that and do the same. ”

“Well, I—” Axius’s eyes twitch to me and then back to Marc.

“Of course. I shouldn’t have forgotten that squadron we worked with…

It was so brief a time, and with them never going into action for that purpose—it would serve us well for this.

I’d imagine most of them are still around.

I marked it discreetly in their records as Emperor Tarquin requested.

We could train in more, but I’m not sure there’s the time.

It’ll be faster to refresh their memory. ”

It seems like a reasonable time for me to rejoin the conversation. “Yes, that sounds wise. Perhaps along with reflecting on our approach to the Cotean canals, you could take today to identify where those soldiers have ended up and how many you can get orders to quickly?”

He dips his head even lower than usual, perhaps to acknowledge both our authority. “Absolutely, Your Imperial Highness. Er, and Your?—”

“I don’t have a title anymore, Axius,” Marc interjects. “It’s all right. You’ll get used to it. My wife has adapted admirably.”

The high commander still looks stunned, but he takes this latest bit of information in stride. “I’ll get right on both of those tasks, then.”

As he comes around the table, I turn to follow his progress. “High Commander—we feel it’s best for the security of the empire that Marc keeps his full identity secret. I’m sure you can imagine the difficulty of believing it for those who knew him less well and how much chaos it would cause…”

Axius nods. His gaze slides to the former emperor with undisguised awe. “As you both see fit.”

“She remains your ruler and the highest authority of the empire,” Marc says evenly.

“Yes.” The high commander swipes his hand across his face. Then he lowers himself into a full bow—directed at me, not my husband. “You can count on me as ever, Your Imperial Highness.”

He hurries out.

As the door thumps shut behind him, Marc sags forward. He plants his hands on the edge of the table, his head drooping, his back curved.

My heart lurches. I dart to his side, but as I set my hand on his shoulder, I catch the brightness of his smile.

“You have no idea,” he says hoarsely. “Having to pretend for so long—being looked at like a stranger— I swear, I won’t let this undermine your position the slightest bit. But I feel as if I can fully breathe for the first time in…”

Marc straightens and spins toward me to frame my face with his hands, ever so tenderly. “Thank you. I never would have asked—but I didn’t have to. Thank you.”

He kisses me so soundly my head spins with the rush of desire. I clutch the front of his shirt as if I can ride out the wave, but even when he eases back, the sense of need keeps thrumming through my pulse.

I gaze up at the man who’s been reborn out of the embers of his old self, and I can’t come up with one reason not to welcome this hunger.

The words come out unexpectedly husky. “Do you know what I want most right now?”

A matching desire flares in Marc’s eyes. “What’s that, wife?”

“Why don’t you take your turn and conquer me?”