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Sleep proved impossible for Avera. The attack and the realization Zhos could so easily spread its influence meant she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find slumber. In the throne room, an agitated Titus belted out orders such as saddling all the horses, including one for her.

Prielli helped Avera to bathe the blood from her flesh, bind her wounds, and dress in a riding habit. Her maid would be joining the caravan that would set out at first light.

As dawn brightened the sky, Avera found herself standing in the courtyard as soldiers began moving out, a thunder of hooves as they provided a vanguard for the emperor who would follow.

Titus sat atop a massive stallion. He and his steed both wore golden-hued armor which glinted as the sun’s rays struck it.

For Avera, a gray stallion awaited. A nice enough horse whose main drawback was that it wasn’t Luna.

However, given the choice, Avera preferred riding to being stuck in a carriage.

In a rarity, she required a stepping stool to get into the saddle.

The armor Titus insisted she wear—a chain mail vest and helm—made her heavy and unwieldy.

She would have argued, but she understood the need for it.

Titus wasn’t taking chances on another assassin or possessed person trying to take her out while she rode in the open.

The viziers accompanied them, the trio ensconced in a carriage with its curtains drawn.

She’d yet to meet them, although she’d seen from afar the mysterious women in white robes that included feature-covering headpieces.

They floated to and fro, seemingly serving no purpose other than unnerving the staff who worked around them.

When it came time to leave, to Avera’s surprise, the entire city turned out to watch, waving from windows, lining the streets, cheering and wishing the emperor and his soon-to-be consort a fertile future.

There seemed to be a general consensus that this was a marriage procession, but she didn’t confront Titus about the misassumption until they’d exited the city and begun their trek to Mount Ygnis.

She brought her horse up alongside Titus’ and asked, “Who told your citizens we were going to get married on this journey?”

“Me.”

Her lips pinched as he didn’t even try and deny where the belief originated. “Why would you do that when you know I haven’t agreed to anything?”

“Because Mount Ygnis is where emperors marry, a tradition going back to the time of dragons. Given you’re accompanying me, and I wasn’t about to reveal our true plan, it seemed best to tell the people what they expected to hear. That you and I will be wed.”

“You shouldn’t lie,” Avera chided.

“Who says it’s a lie? We have several days of travelling for me to convince you,” he riposted. “Prepare to be charmed.”

Her lips couldn’t help but curve. “You are persistent.”

“Because I want you as my consort.”

“But why? I fail to see the advantage for you.” Avera was the one who most needed this alliance, however, she hesitated, partially because she didn’t completely trust Titus, but also because she couldn’t help wondering if Griff lived.

“No advantage to having a beautiful and intelligent consort?”

She snorted. “There are many women who would fit that criteria who don’t come with as much drama.”

“I’m not afraid of drama. Don’t forget, our union would cement an alliance between our two countries with countless benefits. We could eliminate tariffs between our nations. Share knowledge.”

“Assuming Benoit is ousted.”

Titus waved a hand. “He will be. I won’t have an imposter sitting on my consort’s throne.”

“Even if I did agree, there is the issue of heirs. You claimed to not need one, given your plan to live eternally. However, I will have a normal lifespan, meaning I’ll need someone to rule after me.

And, if I can be morbid, preferably two or three heirs so that there is a spare in case of an accident. ”

“If you want children to inherit Daerva, then it will be my pleasure to provide.”

Avera didn’t know a delicate way to say the next part. “Given your past experience with fertility, I am concerned.”

Rather than take offense he laughed. “Such a polite way of saying I’m impotent A valid concern. However, my viziers seem to think that my issues in that regard have been resolved with my rejuvenated youth. According to them, I should be able to get you with child.”

A clinical way of saying they would be intimate. Together.

Her cheeks heated. “That is good to know, but raises another issue. Where do we live? I cannot rule Daerva from Merisu, just like you need to be present in your own country to ensure you don’t lose control.”

“We shall travel back and forth as often as needed. Don’t forget, the dragons will aid in that respect, flying us across much faster than sailing by boat.”

“They can fly that far?” She couldn’t help sounding skeptical.

“I can’t see why not.”

He didn’t, but she did. Such a great distance offered nowhere to rest. Unless dragons had unlimited stamina, she didn’t see how it could be done.

“Would they even allow it? They aren’t horses trained with saddles.”

“While the book didn’t depict it, the blooded did ride them back in the day.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

His lips curved. “I’d have said exhilarating. Imagine the faces of your people and the imposter if we were to arrive atop dragons.”

She did see it, had dreamt it actually. Only it wasn’t Titus who rode with her.

“You’ve given me much to think about,” she murmured.

“While you ponder the merits of becoming my consort”—an arrogant way of asserting claim when in truth her people would see him as the consort—“let us discuss what will happen once we reach Mount Ygnis.”

“You’re going to toss the eggs in.” One of which resided in her saddlebags, one with Titus, and the other pair with the viziers. Just in case, as Titus said when they split them. Should something happen on the road, he didn’t wish all four to be lost in a fell swoop.

“Given what happened to Verlora, I shall be slightly more cautious. For one, it will be just you and I and the viziers inside the volcano. We shall deposit the eggs in the magma, and then flee to the shrine before the volcano reacts.”

“Isn’t this shrine at the base of the mountain? That hardly seems far enough to protect us once the volcano explodes.”

“But as far as we’re likely to make it before the lava begins flowing.

The shrine is encased in metal and impervious to the heat of the magma.

It has been there for at least a thousand years and withstood both minor and large eruptions.

The viziers assure me it is a safe place to wait for the dragons. ”

“What of earthquakes? Griff—er, the pirate who kidnapped me—claimed the ground shook hard enough to create chasms.”

“We’ve never had any tremors in Merisu.”

“You’ve never hatched dragons either,” she pointed out.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine or Kachezi would have seen something.”

Should she criticize the amount of faith he put in his viziers’ supposed foretelling? She’d yet to decide if she truly believed. Could be they’d guessed lucky. Her skepticism was aided by the fact Avera rather hated the thought of her actions being predetermined.

“When will I meet them?” she asked instead.

“Soon. Most likely when we stop and camp for the night. I know they’ve been eager to meet you, too, but alas, they’ve been rather busy preparing for this day.”

“Preparing what? We toss in the eggs, and poof: dragons.”

“The guardians have long awaited this day. They want everything about this moment to be perfect.”

“And how do you know you can trust them? What if their guidance is bad?”

“Call it instinct. The guardians gave me a second chance. Have answered every question. Helped my country move past catastrophes. All they’ve done is good. So yes, I trust them. Should they approve of you, I imagine you will be given the same elixir as me. You could be young forever.”

Extend her life? She could understand the appeal of not fearing dying of old age, however… “Did you ever wonder how they did it?”

“Magic.”

“What kind of magic, though? One would think if it were simple, it would be widespread, but you’re the first I’ve heard ever managing to reverse aging.”

“I said it was possible, not that it was easy. I’m not sure of the exact method they use to create the serum, however, I do know it is taxing.” A soldier shouted from up ahead and Titus lifted a hand. “If you’ll excuse me.” He trotted off to get a report and Avera watched him.

He’d answered and didn’t. Said the right thing, and yet at times it felt as if he hid more than he told.

Should she marry him? If the dragons could get rid of Zhos—and scare Benoit from the throne—why would she?

Rather than share her time between countries, she’d prefer ruling full-time at home and maybe returning to Verlora to verify if Griff truly had died.

However, would refusing cause Titus to react poorly?

Daerva couldn’t handle a full-scale war, not with the army he could muster and a fleet that could sail to her country’s shore.

On the plus side, he was handsome, intelligent, and well-loved by his people. If she’d never met Griff, she wouldn’t have noticed the lack of spark between them and probably accepted.

They rode all day, the pace steady but by no means harsh.

They set up camp outside a town alongside a beautiful lake, a veritable oasis after the dusty travel.

Avera gladly kneeled on its shores to splash her face and sluice the grime from her exposed flesh.

Titus had offered to rent her a room in the town, but she chose to camp outside with the rest of them, her provided tent more luxurious than expected with an actual mattress and a chamber pot so she didn’t have to do her business outside.

Prielli shared the space with her, content with her bedroll on the carpeted floor.