“How is the city?” Lucian asked Rufus as servants began to clear away the debris. “What kind of damage was done?”

“Most of the central fountain square was annihilated.” Rufus shook his head. “The city was designed for riders, but no one ever thought there’d be a dragon attack here. There were no plans in place. Several buildings burned.”

Lucian had sent Tyche to help manage the flames, as Emilia had Chara. Though she had to be careful, Tyche could carry containers and drop water onto a fire. So strange to have sent Tyche on a mission and not have to ride upon her to carry it out.

“Lucian. My love,” she had whispered when they properly faced each other in the aftermath. She had prodded her snout against his chest, an action as familiar as anything he had known throughout their life together, but her silken voice had teased his mind. He had pressed his forehead against hers and let their thoughts intermingle. Thoughts of flying and thoughts of blood.

The images of those burned corpses in the north quivered with pain.

“I’m sorry, Tyche. Never again,” he’d whispered.

She’d cooed, rested her jaw upon his shoulder, and forgiven him.

“There are other problems for you to deal with,” Rufus said, reclaiming Lucian’s attention. “The five families are waiting to greet their new emperor or empress. They are, needless to say, very confused.” He cleared his throat. “Lady Aurun in particular has been…difficult.”

Poor Emilia.

“Also, there’s the priestess.” Rufus raised an eyebrow. “What would you like us to do with her?”

“It’s not what I’d like, Rufus. I’m not your emperor. In fact, we need Camilla to tell us exactly who needs to receive the imperial crown.”

“If you say so.” Rufus cleared his throat.

“What?”

“I didn’t just declare the imperial guard against Lady Hyperia. I declared us for you. The imperial guard is the emperor’s to command.”

“I’m not the emperor.”

“Not yet.” Rufus grinned. “But all you need to do is place that crown on your head, Excellency.”

“Don’t call me that.” Lucian didn’t mean to snap. “What if Emilia were truly chosen? Or Vespir? I don’t have a right if I wasn’t picked.”

“Lady Hyperia didn’t have a right, either. Her move failed because we wouldn’t back it. But we would back you, Lucian.”

“Rufus. I want you to follow the true emperor.”

“So do I.” His friend’s brilliant, dark eyes crackled. “And I know who he is.”

When another guard summoned the four of them to go down to Camilla’s jail cell, Lucian walked with a tight pain in his shoulders.

There were only a few iron-barred cages left in the imperial dungeon. Much of the jail floor was covered in water from the rapidly melting ice. Emilia blushed as she lifted her skirts to walk through the puddle.

They stood together, the four of them, and faced the priestess. Camilla hunched over on the cot, her steel-gray hair tangled. The soldiers had locked her arms behind her, and Rufus placed a hand upon his blade.

“If you attempt anything, my people have orders to run you through. Be careful, priestess,” said Rufus.

“I suppose the days of ‘Your Grace’ are behind me,” Camilla muttered.” She lifted her head. To Lucian’s surprise, her eyes were raw from crying. “Petros. What did you do with his body?” She sniffed. “You gave it to his dragon, yes? He must be eaten!”

“That can wait,” Lucian said. “Frankly, I can’t believe Hyperia left even one of you alive.” It sounded cold, but after what this woman had put them through, he did not feel inclined to mercy. He never would have made a successful Sacred Brother.

“Petros and I may have miscalculated with the five of you—” Camilla began.

“You lied,” Lucian growled.

“We…” Camilla sighed. “Yes,” she whispered. “Because you discovered our secrets. None of you—not even Hyperia—were a good choice for the dragon throne. It would be only a matter of time until total pandemonium. Do you want civil war? Insurrection in the streets?”

“You say that we’d be the empire’s downfall, but I don’t think things are running well even now,” Emilia replied.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Camilla spat, hatred splintering her eyes. “Chaotic!”

“Don’t be a fool.” Emilia was more centered than Lucian had ever seen her. Her steely gaze wrestled with Camilla’s own. “You know what I did down here,” the girl said. “Chaos is unbound once again. I should thank you. If you hadn’t backed me into such a corner, I might never have been desperate enough to try. Did you know the dragons were our prisoners? Our slaves?”

Camilla shuddered. “Don’t use that word.”

“It’s the truth. Isn’t that what order prizes above all else? Or do you think that truth is only necessary when it gets you what you want?” Emilia gripped the bars. Everyone noticed that they began to quiver, and everyone held their breath. “A voice in my head told me what to do. It called itself the Great Dragon. Isn’t that who you claim to speak for?”

“That’s heresy,” Camilla said, choking. “He…He does not speak to anyone!”

“Then how do you claim to know what He wants? How does He let you know which competitor He picks for the throne?” Lucian asked.

The priestess gnawed at her lower lip.

“I…I can’t tell you. It’s a sacred mystery, taught only to those chosen as high priest or priestess. It’s worth more than my life to tell.”

Lucian snorted. “Convenient.”

“How can you be certain it was Him?” Camilla asked Emilia. “You’re being led astray by evil, girl, and you don’t even know it!”

“If evil freed Chara and all the rest, then maybe evil is just what we need.” Emilia did not shy away. She was fire and fury. Lucian became warm just looking at her.

And if he felt a bit nervous that some voice had told Emilia how to free chaos, he kept it to himself. Surely she knew what she was doing.

“Tell us who was chosen as emperor,” Lucian said, hyperaware of Rufus’s eyes on his back. Even if someone else was chosen, Rufus might have been serious about accepting no one but Lucian. After all, he’d defied Hyperia; he might do it again. If that happened, Lucian would fight to stop it. But…

But on the throne, he could do so much. He knew now that he was no holy man cut out for good, quiet works. He must work to dismantle this horror show of an empire. He must have that power. What if…

“What if,” Emilia said, “we didn’t learn who won?”

“What?” Camilla blinked in horror.

“What?” Vespir said.

“What if I won?” Ajax frowned.

“What do you mean?” Lucian asked, and Emilia gazed up at him with those determined eyes.

“Whoever wins,” she said, “will be a bad ruler.”

“But I could be the best bad ruler we’ve got,” Ajax muttered.

“We’re all blind in certain areas. I know nothing of the world; Vespir knows nothing of politics; you, Lucian, know nothing of magic. But together?”

No. What she was thinking was too impossible…wasn’t it?

“The four of us. That way, whoever was chosen does rule, but not alone. I have my knowledge and my magic. Lucian, you know the military and the politics of expansion. Vespir knows the people, and dragons, better than any of us.” Emilia smiled at Lucian, at Vespir. “And Ajax…”

No one spoke.

“I’m crafty?” the boy offered.

“Yes, that. Anyway, power wouldn’t rest in only one person’s hand. The four of us would be able to reshape the world as we want it to be. The poet Valerius once said that gods dreamed of empires, but devils built them. We’ve been ruled by devils for so long. Let’s be gods together.”

Reshape the world. Rule nobly. Lucian had yearned for it. And to have the others with him—to have Emilia at his side, guiding him as he guided her—quickened his pulse.

He heard Rufus grumble, and Lucian understood why. Nothing like this had been tried, ever. This would be an empire still, but an empire with multiple leaders, leaders with multiple talents and weaknesses. Dangerous, yes, but perhaps the only true way forward.

“You’re mad,” Camilla whispered. “That’s a child’s dream of how things work! You can’t do this! The five families will never approve.”

“We don’t care if they approve,” Lucian snapped. The lords and ladies of the Etrusian Empire had built a system perfectly suited to them. There would be no true justice without a thorough dismantlement. “Use your authority to present us as the Dragon’s selection.” He had never felt so calm in his life. “Or”—Lucian narrowed his eyes—“we can reveal what you did before having you executed.”

“You can’t possibly ascend without my blessing.” Camilla sounded wary, though.

“It would be more difficult, but it could be done. And either way, you’d be too dead to know how it all turned out.” The threat flowed easily from his lips and sickened him.

Vespir winced. At least one of them felt the gravity of threats.

“Hey, one-fourth of a crown is better than none at all. Well, Camilla?” Ajax leaned against the bars. “Are we the Sarkoni now? Do we all have to wear black? How long does it take to get a few more thrones made?”

“Choose,” Emilia said.

The priestess hesitated.

The next great turn of their lives rested on this woman’s decision.

“I believe…we must all bow before our emperors.” She got wearily to her knees. “All hail Emilia Sarkona and Lucian Sarkonus and Vespir Sarkona and Ajax Sarkonus.”

“All hail.” Lucian nodded at Rufus, giving the order. He would still sit the throne. Apparently, that was enough for the captain.

“All hail,” Rufus called. The guards dropped to their knees as one.

Vespir blushed madly as she watched the room genuflect. Ajax grinned.

Lucian felt Emilia settle close by his side, and his blood flowed like fire in his veins.

And if something inside him whispered You don’t know what you’re doing, he shoved it away.

Because Emilia was right, as usual. It was time for them all to be gods. And dragons.