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The sea voyage from Verlora to Merisu couldn’t end soon enough for Avera. Restricted to a cage in a dark hold, she huddled into a tiny ball, her will to fight gone.

She’d failed her quest.

Gryphon was dead.

The Dracova stones had been stolen from her.

She would never reclaim her throne from that traitor, Benoit, nor could she stop the ancient entity, Zhos, from rising and laying waste to her home.

Instead of victory, she found herself a prisoner aboard the Emperor’s Folly, which sailed for Merisu.

Once they arrived, Captain Koonis would hand over Avera and the Dracova stones to his precious emperor—a decrepit tyrant with plans to marry her.

To those who might wonder how bad could marrying the ruler of a country be, they’d obviously either never heard or ignored the rumors.

Emperor Titus Gugerknaut, age seventy-three, had been married five times.

Never divorced, though, because his consorts had a tendency to die.

Thrown from a horse, choked on dinner, drowned.

One apparently perished in childbirth with the emperor’s heir.

As for the most recent, Avera vaguely recalled mention of her flinging herself from a rampart.

Probably preferable to enduring the touch of an old man who would one day kill her for not giving him the heir he so desperately wanted.

In a rare moment spent with her shunned youngest child, the previous queen of Daerva—Avera’s mother—had once confided that she didn’t like Emperor Titus. “ I would rather see my daughters wed the latrine cleaner than that foul man.”

But Avera wouldn’t have a choice. Supposedly, the emperor planned to marry her, although she had her doubts after her treatment by the captain. True or not, she saw no way to escape. Perhaps she would die before her arrival. The seasickness had returned and seemed determined to finish her off.

She should be so lucky.

It was a miserable trip, days and days of no daylight and rancid food. The gruel brought to her daily held floating chunks of garbage. Literal garbage. Chewed bones. Clumps of hair. Grizzled fat in a broth that smelled slightly of piss.

Needless to say, she didn’t eat and subsisted only on the tepid water they brought every few days—when they remembered.

From princess to wretch. How far she’d fallen.

Even sleep was no escape for every time she slumbered, Zhos taunted her.

A faceless and shapeless figure whose voice surrounded her at every turn, taunting and threatening.

While she didn’t want to admit defeat while awake, her subconscious apparently had lost hope.

When Captain Koonis appeared in front of her cage—strutting in his finery, his blue uniform lined with braided golden cord—to announce, “We’re about to dock,” she could barely muster the strength to lift her head.

At least this torture would soon come to an end. The emperor would have his precious stones, but seeing how Avera had nothing else to offer, she could only hope for a swift death.

She was marched, bedraggled and filthy, from the hold to the main deck where the bright sun after so many days of darkness had her squinting. Despite her watering eyes, the fresh air did much to revive her.

“Keep moving,” Koonis ordered as she paused and wavered on her feet, blinking. A shove to the middle of her back had her bare feet stumbling, and she almost plummeted from the gangplank into the water. It might have improved the smell of her.

She made it onto the dock where a grand entourage waited, comprised of lords and ladies dressed in bright fabrics, the latter hiding their faces behind fans.

Soldiers in impressive uniforms that included helms stood arrayed just outside their group, with the largest of them flanking a young man dressed in silken finery who took one look at her and pursed his lips with disapproval. “Is this the Queen of Daerva?”

“Aye, Emperor.” Koonis dropped to a knee and bowed his head. “I’ve brought her, and the stones, as ordered.” He placed the satchel he’d stolen from Avera at the emperor’s feet.

As Avera perused the young fellow, she wondered why she’d not heard about the old emperor’s passing.

Then again, it might have been recent. Only it seemed odd no one had mentioned it.

Nor the fact he had an heir. The rumors about the emperor had highlighted—often with sneering amusement—how he kept ridding himself of wives due to their inability to conceive.

The young emperor’s lips tightened as he eyed Avera. “Why is she so filthy and starved-looking?”

Interesting. The emperor didn’t sound pleased.

Captain Koonis raised his head, fear in his eyes. “Your Eminence? I simply treated her like I would any other prisoner.”

“She’s not a prisoner, you fool, but my soon-to-be consort.” The words were spat and Koonis turned pale.

The emperor didn’t make a sign, yet a soldier stepped forward. Before the captain could protest, his head went flying. A fascinated Avera watched as it rolled across the dock and plopped into the water, drawing a swarm of fish. The water boiled at their feeding frenzy.

A fitting ending for a wretched man.

To Avera’s surprise, the emperor bowed low in front of her. “Apologies, Majesty, for your mistreatment. I didn’t think I had to explicitly tell the captain that, as my fiancée, you should have been treated like a precious treasure. Let me make it up to you.”

“You could make things right by releasing me to return home,” she stated, her voice raspy from her ordeal.

“Alas, that is the one thing I cannot do.” He sounded genuinely apologetic. “However, I promise the situation is not as dire as you fear.”

“You’re forcing me to marry you.” She saw no point in being demure.

“Being wed to me would be to your advantage.”

“How so?”

“You are currently a queen without a throne. Branded a traitor by the one who stole it.”

Her lips pinched at the reminder. “How does being your consort fix that?”

“You need an army and I happen to have a rather large one, plus a vast fleet of ships to transport them.”

“I don’t wish to kill my people.”

“Who says they’ll die? Sometimes a proper show of force is all that’s needed. I imagine there are many displeased by the situation but lacking the courage to step forward. An army led by their true queen might prove to be a compelling factor.”

The emperor put forth an interesting argument, but she wasn’t about to agree so quickly. “I am too weary to be discussing this right now.”

“Of course you are. My apologies. Let us get you properly situated before we discuss important affairs.” He turned and raised his hand. “I have a palanquin to transport us to the palace.”

Avera eyed the gilded box on poles, the weight of it carried by eight very burly men, their chests bare and gleaming as if oiled, the muscles of their arms and legs thicker than her waist. They set the palanquin down nearby and pulled back a curtain.

The displayed enclosed space had her glancing at her ragged attire.

“You might not wish to be in such close proximity to me.”

“It is my fault you arrived in such a state. The late Captain Koonis obviously didn’t clearly grasp your importance to me. Shall we?” He crooked an arm, a courtly gesture that took her aback.

This emperor was nothing as expected. Perhaps the son wasn’t a scoundrel like his father. Not that she intended to marry him. Her grief over Griffon remained a raw, ragged wound on her heart. Just as she’d come to realize her feelings for him, he’d been taken.

She tucked her hand in the crook of the emperor’s elbow and let him lead her to the litter. Upon entering, she was struck by the comfort, from the fat pillows for sitting to the lightly scented brazier that would hopefully mask most of her pungent body aroma.

The emperor sat across from her, a handsome man, she had to admit. His brown hair was thick and long enough to have a slight wave to it, his eyes a piercing gray.

As the palanquin lifted into the air, she sought something to say and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I wasn’t aware Emperor Titus had passed. I am sorry for your loss. I, too, have recently grieved the passing of a parent.”

The statement for some reason made him smile. “My father, Magnus, has been long dead. I am Titus.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry for the mistake. I must have mixed up your names.” Apparently, she should have paid better attention to her lessons on politics.

“Actually, you didn’t. My situation is rather unique. You see, while I might look rather young, in actuality, I am more than seventy years old.”

“Impossible.” The word flew out of her as she recalled what she’d been told when trekking across Verlora with Koonis’ men. They’d claimed that witches used magic to make the emperor young again. Apparently, they’d spoken the truth.

He arched a brow. “Would you call me a liar?”

Careful. Now that she stood on somewhat solid ground, it wouldn’t do to anger the one person who literally held her life in his hands. Especially since thus far he seemed somewhat reasonable.

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t understand. How do you appear so young?”

“Magic.” His white teeth flashed as he grinned. “Your confusion is understandable, as is your disbelief. I felt the same when the elixir of youth was presented to me.”

Magic. For a woman who’d grown up believing it was just something put in stories for entertainment, she’d come to realize much she knew needed updating.

“So your youth is a spell? Does it require renewing?”

“In a sense, yes. While the elixir did reverse decades, I am aging once more and will eventually have to imbibe again to remain young.”

“How incredible.”

“Life changing,” he quipped with a wink. “You’ll soon discover many wonderful things once you’ve settled in. I hear you have a curiosity about how things work.”

His spies had done their homework. “I tinker a bit,” was her modest reply. “Although, not much since the passing of my family.”