78 Emilia

She would not buckle or bend.

The five families had gathered to pay homage to the new emperor or empress. Emilia ordered that they be taken to the terrace room, the antechamber before the grand balcony upon which the new emperor was to be presented.

The families were, unsurprisingly, stunned when the four victors entered in their outfits of imperial black. Unfortunately, the golden crown was still unaccounted for, but there would be time to craft new ones. The black satin and velvet made the point quite nicely, anyway.

Lord Sabel and his daughter both looked aghast; Lord Volscia simply sat down; Lord Tiber grunted in surprise; Lord and Lady Pentri appeared very quiet; and her own parents…

“I don’t understand.” Her father furrowed his brow. Alex, meanwhile, seemed delighted. Apparently, he’d forgiven her for those trade ports she’d gifted the Pentri.

If her brother was still on her side, she could do this.

The priestess, who had to be aware of how carefully the four victors and their imperial guard watched her, smiled as if trying to swallow curdled milk.

“The Great Dragon has made a rare selection,” Camilla said. “After all, wasn’t the emperor Antoninus the least amongst the five great lords and ladies? Didn’t the Dragon select him to rule according to his meekness?”

“Does this have something to do with why our dragons can talk to us now?” Dido of the Sabel demanded. She didn’t look too pleased. Emilia recalled Lucian’s tales of campaign bloodshed. Perhaps Dido’s dragon had had some choice words about that.

Camilla cleared her throat, but Emilia felt the priestess had spoken enough.

“Yes. The dragons lived as our slaves for many years,” she said. “I simply freed them.”

“You?” Emilia’s mother sounded blunt with disbelief. Then her eyes widened as she imagined what Emilia—and only Emilia—could have done. “Oh.”

“This is very simple.” Emilia edged Camilla aside. “The Dragon’s grown tired of how useless you’ve all been.” In her heart, Emilia cringed to say that the four of them had been the Dragon’s choice—it was a lie. But lies had been used to wreck the world for so long. Perhaps the world could only be healed by another falsehood. “It was time for a radical change. The lowest member of each family was selected. Together, we will work so that this world does not run further into the ground.”

“What do you all know about statecraft?” Lord Pentri snapped.

“Not much.” Emilia smiled. “At least, not the sort of statecraft of which you would approve.”

“Is my House to be left out of this brave new world?” Lord Volscia inquired. He didn’t look at her.

“Your elder daughter killed your younger. Julia would have stood here otherwise—I’m sure of it,” Emilia said.

At that, the lord merely stood and walked out. No one watched him go.

“This is how it will be,” Emilia continued. Her eyes tracked from one face to the next, memorizing the expressions she found there. If they looked pleased, or at least indifferent, she noticed; if hostility simmered under the surface, or their lips twitched, she remembered that, too. “It was suggested that we kill the dragons, and the eldest, of every House to prevent insurrection.”

There were gasps. She could practically hear Camilla grimacing. It had, of course, been the priestess’s cheerful suggestion.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Dido growled.

“We said no,” Lucian replied. “The Cut has always been barbaric. From this day forward, it’s done with.”

Murmurs now. Confusion. Some think we’re weak for not Cutting, Emilia realized. She was going to have to be very, very careful with everyone in this room.

“However, all of your dragons are safely perched in the aerie right now, and the imperial guard has thrown its support entirely behind us,” she said. Of course, Emilia knew that the guard were partial to one person especially. Suppose someday Lucian decided to make a play for greater power, with Rufus and the rest backing him?

She let that thought slide. For now.

“If we gave the order, everyone here would be killed.” Emilia remained stoic, even when the room cried out in horror. “Consider how merciful we are.”

“We’re supposed to bow to a servant?” Lord Pentri glared at Vespir. The girl’s gaze bored into his.

“An empress who was a servant,” Emilia replied evenly. “Yes. If you want to live.”

The old bastard grumbled but turned away. From the corner of the room, Antonia stepped into view, wearing a gown of green silk, with seed pearls woven into her black hair. Emilia noticed that Vespir stood a little taller.

Antonia regarded them all with wondering eyes.

“How exactly will you govern this vast empire of yours? When a dragon is born with two or more heads, it dies in confusion,” Lady Pentri snapped.

“Actually, there have been two-headed Hydra who lived very long lives,” Vespir said. Yes. If anyone would know those particulars, she would.

“And we have other powers.” Emilia turned out her palms, felt the chaos pump in her blood. She focused upon the chandelier overhead. The pendants of crystal morphed into delicate rosebuds, the flames to flapping monarch butterflies. All the Houses leapt to their feet in horror.

“Chaos?” Lord Tiber looked as if he had fallen into a nightmare. “Who did it? Kill them!” he bellowed.

“Chaos is free once more, and under my control,” Emilia growled. This time, the reverberations through her body were not so bad. When blood dripped from her nose, she wiped it away before anyone else could see. “It’s going to take its rightful place alongside order once again. Isn’t that so, Your Grace?”

Camilla could barely bring herself to whisper yes, but it was a yes all the same. Now the families understood. Emilia had the power of chaos, the backing of the church, and the support of the imperial guard. Those who did not bow would die.

Emilia had studied these people her entire life. She knew that, Lord Sabel excluded, every one of them cared for their comforts more than trouble. If she could not bend their will to hers…death might be the only option.

She hoped it would not be.

“The choice is yours,” Lucian said, surveying the room by her side.

The priestess kept silent.

Finally, the heads of the four Houses drew into a small circle. Their discussion was brief, and when Lord Aurun faced them again, Emilia could read the decision in his eyes before he spoke.

“All hail the emperors and empresses of Etrusia,” he grumbled.

She made certain to look him directly in his eye as she gestured with a flick of her wrist. On your knees.

His lip curled, but her father obeyed.

Emilia’s mother followed his example, as did the Pentri and the Tiber and the Sabel. Lysander openly wept with fear and possible confusion. Antonia was the only one who didn’t bow right away. Instead, she crossed to stand directly before Vespir.

“Excellency,” she said, lowering her lashes as she swept into a deep curtsy. But Vespir cupped the girl’s chin.

“I don’t ever want you to kneel,” she whispered. Antonia stood, tears trembling in her eyes. Vespir whispered Antonia’s name and kissed her. Antonia slipped into the other girl’s arms with a sigh.

“All hail us!” Ajax crowed. “Time to let the empire see its new face.” As the boy walked over to his so-called family, he flicked Lysander’s ear. The older boy’s face grew beet red, but he did nothing. “Hey. Thank me for that, Lysander.”

“Thank you, Excellency,” he snarled.

“I like the sound of that.” Ajax flicked the other ear. “Do it again.”

The four waited as Camilla took to the terrace, where a large copper cylinder meant to amplify her voice waited upon a stand. Emilia heard the priestess’s voice ring out, loud enough to reach half a mile away:

“All hail the Dragon’s wisdom. All hail truth’s conquest over falsehood. Today, a great four-headed dragon has been born. All hail the Sarkoni: Emilia Sarkona, formerly of the Aurun; Lucian Sarkonus, formerly of the Sabel; Vespir Sarkona, formerly of the Pentri; and Ajax Sarkonus, formerly of the Tiber. All hail your new emperors. All hail the Sarkoni. All hail!”

Camilla bowed and gestured for them to take their place. Emilia walked to the terrace’s edge, Lucian on her right, Vespir and Ajax to her left. The four peered over the balustrade at the veritable sea of people gazing back up at them. Even if corners of the city remained on fire, they had still come to see their emperors and perhaps to understand what on earth had happened.

The faces in the crowd were still. Emilia noted a ripple of turning heads, people asking one another what in the depths was going on.

“Uh-oh,” Ajax grunted.

But then, hands extended up for them. The murmur of the crowd broke into a roar, and Emilia heard them shouting for the emperors. The Sarkoni. Hail to them.

She raised her hand and waved, and the crowd waved back. To be on display to this many pairs of eyes was exhausting, but she smiled.

“Do you think this will work?” Lucian murmured in her ear, while the families watched them warily from behind and the crowds rejoiced before them.

“Too late to turn back now,” she replied. She flushed as his hand traced the small of her back.

“Then I’m lucky we’re in this together,” he said.

She had no ready response.


Night had fallen by the time the families trundled off to their apartments throughout the capital. Inside the imperial home the other emperors reveled, along with Antonia. Emilia needed a moment to herself, however. She traced her path through the labyrinthine gardens, listening to the crickets and drinking in the perfumed air. When she arrived at Truth’s doorway, she inspected the pair of stone doorjambs. The pitch-black void had returned; perhaps she might take another stroll inside.

No. Too much truth could be a dangerous thing.

She touched a sleeping rosebud and turned it to pure gold. Beautiful.

Emilia coughed, winced as blood splattered upon the burnished flower. It felt like a boot had kicked her in the stomach. More practice. That’s all she needed.

The hairs on her neck rose as a twig snapped on the path behind her. “I don’t love being followed, you know,” she said.

“You never did,” Lucian replied, picking an errant petal from his shoulder. “You yelled at me whenever I tracked you along the cliffs.”

“Because you tried to push me in.”

“Once, and only as a joke. I’d go in after you if you ever fell.” He smiled.

Yes. He would.

“Are you all right?” Lucian asked.

“The chaos? It’s in my control, at least. I’ve been thinking…The Drag—the voice told me that when they locked chaos away, it was like an earthenware jar with a few small cracks. I was one of those cracks. All of chaos was trying to get out through me. No wonder I had accidents. But now the power is evenly distributed. It’s better.”

Better, but in some ways more dangerous.

“Do you think the priests might have had a point about me?” she asked. Lucian frowned. “I exploded three human beings with no more than a thought. Perhaps no one should ever possess such power. Maybe it is wrong. Maybe the dragons losing their tongues was the right price to pay.” She nibbled at her lip.

“Why are you talking about this now?” Lucian sounded baffled. “You’re the dragons’ savior, Emilia. You’re a hero.”

A hero. Boys like Lucian believed in such things. Emilia had read far too much to trust anything was so simple…but she didn’t want to think about it tonight. She was tired of always thinking. And with Lucian beside her, the stars above and the garden fragrant around them, she felt so many things. Things she’d believed had been locked away, imprisoned inside her body.

“Can I ask you something?” Emilia murmured. His silence answered her. “Now that you’re willing to fight again…have you made peace with what you did?”

“No.” It was a soft answer. “I don’t deserve peace. All I can do is work so that no one else ever makes my mistakes.”

“Ah.” Emilia frowned. “I’m sorry that I was weak with Hyperia. If I hadn’t been, you would have kept your vows.”

“No. I would have fought anyway. I had something to protect,” he said.

“Oh.” Her heart picked up pace. If only she’d been around people these last five years. If only she knew how to toss her hair or playfully grab his arm. If only they did not have an empire to govern and a balancing act to maintain between four people. If only…“We should go.”

“Wait.” He touched her hand as she began to walk away. “You said that you killed the first boy you ever kissed.”

“What about it?” Emilia flinched.

He made her face him and brought her hand to his lips. The sensation of his kiss was too brief, but deliciously warm. Her body pulsed with chaotic sensation.

“Wh-why did you do that?” she breathed.

“A reminder that things can change,” he said.

And that was that, for tonight. For now.

They wended the path back to the palace, the future fragile in their hands.