Page 218 of The Cradle of Ice

“In truth, I was not surprised by this offer. I have often had visions of the imperial throne with a woman sitting atop it. But she was much older, wiser, and greatly revered by her children and the imperium at large. It was only upon Emperor Makar’s supplication to his daughter that I realized who that revered woman was.” He motioned to Aalia. “There she stands.”

Murmurs spread across the table.

Mareesh spoke up sharply, with a slightly mocking tone. “So you say, Augury. But it remains your word and my sister’s. Perhaps you both have much to gain by such assertions. Like the imperium itself.”

Wing Draer muttered a half-hearted agreement.

Tykhan touched his lips, feigning deep consideration of these words. “As I said before, Emperor Makar does have moments of lucidity. He seems especially roused by the circlet itself. Perhaps due to some property of the meteoric iron or simply how adamant he is about who should wear it. We’ve kept it from his sight, as it does agitate him and afterward sets him back for a spell. But if you wish, you may see how he reacts. Somewhere deep inside, he likely does recognize everyone here. I saw the tear on the emperor’s cheek when Chaaen Hrash approached in such a heartfelt manner.”

Jubayr gave a small nod.

“So with all of his dearest councillors and advisers present, perhaps we can elicit some lucidity and guidance from Emperor Makar. If Prince Jubayr could bring the circlet forward, then—”

Mareesh reached over and snatched it from the tray. “I’ll do it.”

He stood and stalked around the table, carrying the circlet as if it were a child’s toy. He approached his father. Only when he was a few steps away did his confidence falter. Kanthe had no doubt Makar ruled his sons with a hard hand. Mareesh slowed, his shoulders bowing slightly. He held forth the circlet with more reverence now, recognizing the prominence of the one who once wore it.

“Father,” he asked softly, “what would you have us do?”

Tykhan urged the emperor forward, gently brushing the back of the man’s head as he let him go. Makar stumbled, arms out. He took the circlet from his son’s hands and tilted it right and left, the sapphires glinting in the light. He then held it out, as if offering it to Mareesh. His son reached to accept it, but Makar stumbled past him, shouldering the prince aside. He crossed to Aalia, toppled to his knees, and held the circlet up toward her.

One word was forced through his lips. “P … P … Please…”

Kanthe suspected this plea had nothing to do with the circlet, and everything to do with the emperor begging to be released from his bridling. Aalia took it, her face stricken with a sadness that was not feigned. Tears welled. Rami could stand it no more and turned away.

Tykhan and the abbess collected Makar, who swooned and nearly fell. He could barely keep his legs now.

Tykhan looked apologetically toward the table. “As I warned, these moments of clarity are rare but also debilitating.” He turned to the abbess. “Would you take him back to his room to rest? I’ll check on him when we’re done.”

She nodded.

“And could you ask Novitiate Liss to bring in Sister Amis?” Tykhan added.

“Of course.”

As the abbess guided Makar out, Kanthe looked at Aalia and Rami, who appeared to be just as mystified as Kanthe about this next visitor.

Chaaen Hrash watched Makar depart the room. “How long will the emperor be afflicted?”

Tykhan sighed. “Years certainly, maybe longer, maybe forever.”

Sail Garryn spoke up into the silence that followed. “Considering this verdict, we must consider the good of the imperium. Word of the emperor’s affliction will surely spread. Both within our borders and without. The people will look to us for guidance. We must not look indecisive.”

Shield Angelon nodded. “I agree. During this time of strife, we must quickly shore up the people’s morale.” His next words were spoken begrudgingly. “To that end, no one is held in higher esteem than the emperor’s daughter. People will rally around her.”

Kanthe had expected such a judgement would wound Prince Jubayr, the eldest son, but the man simply ran a palm over the table’s surface, as if inspecting it for flaws. Next to him, Prince Mareesh had recovered enough to stare with narrowed eyes as the circlet was returned to the table.

Off to the side, footsteps approached the room. A young woman entered with an elderly sister on her arm. They were both dressed in gray, but the younger woman was darkly complected, clearly Klashean. The older one was nearly as gray as her robe, both her braided hair and her skin.

Everyone glanced around, waiting for an explanation.

Tykhan nodded to the pair, then turned to the table. “I told you of my vision of the imperium’s glorious future, with a beloved empress on the throne, but I held off mentioning who sat beside her, father to her children. He was older, too, but he was wearing a crown.”

Murmurs whispered in confusion.

Kanthe was not mystified at all.

“He was wearing a Hálendiian crown,” Tykhan explained, turning to Kanthe. “You all knew of Emperor Makar’s desire to have Prince Kanthe marry his daughter on the winter’s solstice.”