Page 215 of The Cradle of Ice

A single nonne—the sister assigned to the emperor—knelt beside the crimson basin. She waved a small silver thurible, in the shape of a tiny boat, smoking with a curative incense.

Kanthe knew her efforts would prove futile. The source of the emperor’s malaise stood behind Makar. Tykhan kept vigil, tweaking his bridling as needed to keep the emperor subdued and under his crude control. Tykhan nodded to them as they entered.

Pratik stood next to him, looking grim.

Rami crossed and dropped to his knees. He wet his hand and gently cleaned the drapes of saliva from his father’s lips.

Tykhan whispered solemnly to the nonne, “Sister Lassan, if you could give Rami some privacy. I will let you know if we need your assistance.”

She rose with her thurible, bowed to the prince, and quietly left the temple, closing the heavy doors behind her.

Once alone, Rami scowled at Tykhan. “How much longer must we maintain this ruse? You said yourself that it took five decades to achieve this bridling. You can’t possibly know with any certainty what damage it is causing or what possible ramifications might follow from such abuse.”

Frell scowled—but not at Rami’s accusation. “The walls are thick marble, and this pool drains deep before joining the stream outside, but we should keep our voices low.”

Tykhan, his eyes wounded, addressed Rami. “Your father is not the first that I’ve bridled. I promise, despite how it appears, I’ve been as gentle as possible. Still, I cannot fully discount your words. Bridling always carries some risk. I’m sorry.”

Rami closed his eyes, clearly struggling to accept the necessity of this act.

Tykhan moved on from this tender subject. “We have a hard path ahead of us. It is not only the emperor who risks suffering. For any hope to mitigate the war to come—to keep the Crown from tearing itself apart—we must return to the path that my calculations originally pointed to that offered the best possible outcome.”

“Which is what?” Kanthe asked. “We’re trying to get Aalia seated on the imperial throne. What more can we do?”

“That wasn’t my full plan,” Tykhan snapped, clearly still irked that his carefully orchestrated manipulations had gone awry due to a certain Prince in the Cupboard.

“Then what was?” Frell pressed him.

Tykhan looked at Kanthe. “As I tried to arrange before, Empress Aalia and Prince Kanthe must be married.”

Kanthe shook his head. “But why? Why is that so important?”

“The kingdom and empire must be united, or all may come to ruin. All forecasts dictate this is the only path forward.”

“Then imbibe more of those Malgardian fumes,” Kanthe said. “I can’t see how that’s important or why my marriage to Aalia would make any difference.”

“It will.” Tykhan’s eyes glowed through the lenses that had turned his eyes to a rich indigo. “You are critical to all of it.”

The third bell of the morning rang out, heard only as distant muffled chiming through the thick marble.

Frell frowned. “Talk of such unions can wait. We must get Emperor Makar ready for the visit by the imperial council. We fail with them, and none of this matters.”

Tykhan nodded. “Fear not, with time, all will become clear.”

Kanthe frowned at those words, spoken with the vague execrable mystery of all oracles. Still, one thing remained clear.

It’s too late to turn back now.

83

AALIA WAITED FOR the morning’s third bell to finish ringing across X’or. The small gold bell in the steeple topping the emperor’s palacio made her teeth ache. When it finally ended, she sighed with relief.

“We’re running out of time,” she said, rolling to her side under a tangle of sheets. “I must be ready to receive the council in another bell.”

Tazar pushed up to an elbow, his hair rumpled, his lips slightly bruised. He reached to her breast and gently rolled a thumb around her nipple, urging it harder. “I can accomplish a lot in less than a bell.”

She pushed him away, stronger than she intended to, but anxiety kept her tense. He had snuck into her bedchamber last night, cloaked under a byor-ga robe. Not that any subterfuge was truly necessary. Aalia’s servants knew of his presence, as did most of the guards by now. No one could fault the Illuminated Rose for needing companionship, especially now. Often enough in the past, she had shared her bed with both men and women. While she had to preserve her maidenhood, which was examined regularly, she was left with abundant latitude for other explorations and enjoyments.

“I need to bathe and prepare,” Aalia said. “The council will fault even a hair out of place in an effort to deny my claim.”