The Emperor's Daughter

by H M Angues

  It wasn’t my nightmare. It was Kainan’s.

  I can’t deny the bond, not anymore. This is the third nightmare of his I've experienced in just four days. All the warmth leaves my body and I grasp for the blankets and wrap them tightly around myself. Kainan Dane is my Twin Flame, my sacred partner, someone I share an unbreakable bond with.

  I don’t know how to feel. Nausea swims in my stomach, mostly from fear. After everything that Kainan has done, I don’t know how to react to this. I want to deny it. But the bond of Twin Flames—named for the ancient Eterran legend told by the natives of the Old Era—runs deeper than human emotions.

  I can use it, I realize, to find out how guilty he truly is.

  I can feel the eyes of gods I don’t necessarily believe in glaring at me from the heavens above. No, I can’t use a sacred bond so selfishly.

  I push Kainan out of my head and turn my focus to the fist gently knocking on my bedroom door.

  “Come in,” I call in a sleepy, raspy voice.

  “Are you all right, Calla?” Blade asks, peeking his head inside. After the row I had with him and the arrest of Ramsey, I asked that he join me in the palace. He must have fallen asleep in the foyer.

  “Yes,” I whisper, though I know he hears the lie. He doesn’t say a word as he wraps his arms around me and guides me down into the feather pillows. I nestle into his shoulder, relishing in the warmth of his body as I slither my arms around his torso and drift back into sleep.

  When my peaceful unconsciousness is interrupted by nightmares of Talon, I know Kainan sees—and feels—them, too.

  ∞∞∞

  Stonefire is chaotic. Families of military officials and politicians dart about the palace. Today, the Concilium votes to officially appoint me as emperor. I’m not worried; every Renald that has gone up for vote has ascended the throne. However, I can’t ignore the bundle of nerves in my gut. No woman has ever ruled Namari. And, if all goes well, tomorrow will be the coronation.

  A lightning bolt of pain soars through me at the thought. My heart feels constricted in my chest. Tomorrow, I may very well be wearing my father’s crown before he’s even in his grave. Recent events have done well to distract me, but today his death weighs heavy on my already aching heart.

  As I walk purposefully to the Hall of the Concilium, trailed by Blade, Valek and a band of Royal Guardsmen, I make my decision. I will ask the Concilium to push back the coronation; at least until my father’s funeral has passed a week from now.

  Roran’s seats remain empty, leaving only six pairs of monarchs in the Hall, just like the last time I was here. Those elected by their people sit in more elaborate chairs, while their spouses are placed beside them in simpler, but comfortable, furnishings. The king and queen consorts have no power in the Concilium, but they do have some influence over the decisions of their spouses.

  I take my seat at the head of the grand table, the sunset-colored dome arching overhead. Blade and Valek flank my chair on either side.

  King Tiber of Morda stands and his queen consort, Leiya, mimics his movement. As the king of the largest present Province in terms of population—next to Roran, but they have no representative today—he has the most influence of the monarchs in the Concilium.

  “As King of Morda, I call for a vote of this Concilium on the ascension of High General, Grand Duchess and Imperial Regent, Calla Renald, daughter of the late Emperor Augustus Renald the Fourth,” he states, his powerful voice reverberating through the Hall.

  Queen Eliana of Laroiviel speaks up. “I vote in favor of her ascension.”

  Queens Anesi and Adrienne of Haercayn and Darci copy Eliana’s statement of support. The kings are a little more hesitant, save for King Tiber. That gives me four out of six votes, but a unanimous vote is required, especially with Roran, the largest Province, absent from the Hall.

  Cesairan, King of Tiladen, is the first of the remaining two kings to voice his thoughts. “My apologies, Your Highness, but I’m a little apprehensive about having you take the crown just yet. You’re the youngest in history, not to mention the only female to ever be eligible for the throne. I don’t mean to discriminate, as I'm aware of your resounding popularity among the people, but regional governors in Morda show concern due to your ripe age.”

  “I understand your hesitation, King Cesairan, and admire your courage to speak up with an unpopular opinion. You have a much closer relationship with the people of your Province than I, and therefore can speak for them better than I can. However, I believe the Tila are modern people and will accept my reign with little to no question. I am a Renald, after all. And, if there’s anything we can do to further ease the discomfort of you and your people, just ask.”

  Cesairan nods graciously. Quiet enough so that only I can hear, he whispers, “You will be a great emperor, Calla. Someone had to make this a little interesting. Easy votes are no fun.” Then, louder for the rest of the Concilium, “As King of Tiladen, I vote in favor of Calla’s ascension.”

  King Ezra of Gaitha says the same, and the vote is unanimous. Tiber stands again to speak.

  “As King of Morda and representative of my people to this Concilium, I declare the woman before us as Emperor Calla Renald of Namari.”

  Six voices echo the word, “Aye,” when Tiber sits. Finally, I rise from my seat as the official emperor of Namari.

  “I thank you for your votes. Now I have a favor to ask you all. My father’s funeral is next week. Out of respect for him, I would like to push the coronation back a few weeks, until after the funeral services are complete.”

  The monarchs nod to each other and their advisers. “There are no objections here, Emperor. We admire your decision and will push the official coronation ceremony to the end of next week, three days after the funeral services have commenced.”

  I nod and dismiss the politicians of the Concilium. King Tiber hangs back, his wife leaving with his advisers.

  “A moment, Emperor Calla,” he requests. I step aside, leaning against the wall in my glimmering orange and red tunic and leggings made to match the fiery color of the dome.

  “The other representatives and I want to know what you plan to do with Kainan Dane.” The king toys with his graying beard. Up close, decades of stress line his dark skin from his many years serving the empire, the Mordan people, and my family.

  I feel a pang in my gut. I haven’t thought about Kainan since the dream last night. Something in the back of my mind tugs me toward him, to what he’s feeling. I’m overwhelmed by the pressing loneliness of his cell and the pain of overthinking while he sits in the silent darkness. I crawl out of his head back to where I stand now.

  “I’m not certain. He’s innocent where we thought him guilty. I don’t think he should be our biggest concern at this time.”

  “And what of Ramsey?”

  My mind strays to the dark-skinned and deadly beauty I locked away just two days ago. “She will be tried for treason and regicide while we hunt down and bring to justice the rest of the rebels.”

  Tiber nods in acceptance before departing from the Hall. A sigh of relief escapes from my lungs.

  Today is my first official day as emperor and I couldn’t tarnish it by informing my most powerful Concilium representative of a very frightening fact that I was informed of this morning while readying for the vote: Ramsey Renald escaped from Ragnar Prison, a feat that has never been achieved before in Namari’s thousand years of history. I may have been expecting such a thing, but I had at least hoped for more time than this.

  Chapter 14

  Kainan

  I stare at my scarred and calloused hands, unable to shift my gaze. There’s nothing else to look at in the cell, anyway. The small sliver of sunlight that peers in from the rocky ceiling is all that’s left lighting the stone and concrete prison since the power in my cell shut off.

  I think they’re slowly forgetting that I’m here. The meals have become less frequent, and the guard that usually delivered them must have been reassigned.
Now it’s a small, Darcinian-looking woman who only brings food once a day instead of twice.

  I kick the metal tray to the cell door and lean my back against the cool stone, hugging my arms around myself to preserve warmth. It’s the middle of summer, but the sub-surface prison is freezing. Exhaustion floods me; Calla’s nightmares kept me up all night, just like I know mine woke her a few times already. I never saw Talon’s death. Now I know the details of it, including the pain she felt watching him die. Listening to my voice as I had claimed responsibility for ripping out a piece of her soul. That’s how it felt, watching his death through her eyes: Like my very essence was being torn in half, leaving a cold emptiness in its place.

  I don’t stir when I hear the metal doors open and someone step into my sealed cell. I don’t need to open my eyes to know it’s her. I can feel the warmth radiating from her curvy body like a furnace, filling the cold, damp space with comforting heat. And her scent—I could pick it out in a cloud of perfumes and odors. It smells like all of nature mixed together—ocean water, a summer breeze, fresh soil, and a roaring bonfire.

  Calla Renald brushes my shoulder as she sits next to me against the wall. Several minutes of soothingly warm silence pass before she finally speaks.

  “You should tell him,” she whispers, her voice melodic when it’s not laced with frustration like it had been the first time we spoke. “He thinks you let your father hurt him. He doesn’t know you were protecting him.”

  “It won’t make a difference. He wants to hate me—it’s better that I just let him get it out of his system. He’ll get over it.”

  Silence settles in again. I finally open my eyes when I feel her move closer.

  “You’re freezing,” she says when she notices my puzzled look. “I thought you could use a little warmth.”

  I don’t object, sinking into her shoulder as her fire warms me to my very bones. I exhale heavily.

  “You’re losing weight, too.”

  “Prison food isn’t exactly the most nutritious, Your Majesty. Maybe you could pull some strings, seeing as you’re my Flame and all, and get me some better food,” I tease with a small nudge against her arm, flashing her a smile.

  She doesn’t smile back. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  Two weeks ago, I was still being forced to share a bed with a vengeful and demanding woman named Ramsey. I was emotionless and cold, shielding myself from feelings as a form of mental protection. Now, I sit next to the emperor with an aching heart. The bond of Twin Flames is a tricky thing to deal with when your mate rejects you.

  It’s not a guarantee of falling in love—it’s just the gods’, or God’s, way of showing us who our perfect match is, who they intended us for when they made us.

  I wish I could ignore it as easily as she does.

  I begin to drift off, gut-wrenching and fear-inducing images of Ramsey dragging me to bed and forcing me to be with her plaguing my half-asleep self. Calla flinches against my shoulder, yanking me out of the horrors.

  “Sorry about that,” I mumble. I guess we’ll both have to learn to control the flow of dreams and emotions between our minds.

  I feel her fingers wrap around my forearm as she leans into me more. “Sleep,” she whispers. I can feel her presence probing through my subconscious.

  I dream of forests and crackling campfires, of the ocean waves and warm breezes rustling through grass.

  ∞∞∞

  She’s gone when I wake up. Moonlight has replaced the sun through the crack in the ceiling, but the fluorescent lights are back on. I hear her approach from down the prison hall. When she reaches the cell door, there’s a tray of steaming food in her hands.

  “Thank you,” I say as she hands me the food. I begin scarfing it down. “Not just for the food. For... whatever you did to my dreams, too.”

  “I don’t even know how I did it, it just happened because I wanted it to.” She sits down across from me.

  “Why did you come here?” I ask between bites.

  “Ramsey escaped Ragnar Prison.”

  I almost choke on my food. She pauses for just a moment before elaborating. “I found out yesterday morning, right before the Concilium’s vote to make me emperor. I know you felt how scared I was. I needed to tell someone. It was more important that you sleep first, though. I could tell you were exhausted.”

  “You couldn’t tell Blade or my brother?”

  “They don’t even know she’s alive. Only the Concilium, my adviser and the Overseer know about her.”

  I hesitate before saying, “I didn’t want to do any of it. She threatened Ryse, you know. Said she’d kill him any time I didn’t do what she asked.”

  “Why you?” she implores. Her amber eyes search my face. She knows I won’t—can’t—lie to her. She’d feel it if I did, and vice versa.

  “Because I was good in bed and a treat to look at. She said I looked nice beside her—and that my history would make me a useful, believable pawn. She found me in Helkyn when I was living in the Arena District.”

  “That’s how you knew about the bond. You lived with Primori while you were there,” she says, mostly to herself.

  I nod. “Don’t believe anything you’ve seen me do or heard me say. None of it was me. I don’t hate your kind and I don’t hate your dynasty, either. All the negativity and hatred is Ramsey talking through me.”

  She hesitates, wanting to speak out about something that I can tell is truly bothering her. “Calla?” I urge.

  “Should I tell them?”

  My words freeze in my throat, forming a lump. I want to say yes, because then, just maybe, it means my brother would forgive me. I want to do a lot of things when it comes to Calla, most of it fueled by the bond we are forced to share, but I can’t and won’t act on any of it. Most of all, I want her to just give in to this bond, so I can stop trying to work around the tightness constricting around my heart. I know she feels it, too, but she’s much more talented at ignoring pain. We’ve only just met, anyhow, and I have no expectations.

  I don’t answer. She takes my silence as an opportunity to change the subject.

  “You know, my parents were Twin Flames. My mother, Daiena, was the daughter of the king of Darci. My father was still the grand duke at the time. They met while the Concilium was in session and the bond clicked into place immediately. They got married two months later. She got sick a few years before I was born, but my father couldn’t handle it. That’s how he ended up sleeping with Lady Mira and getting her pregnant with Talon. He had needed relief from the stress of ruling and bearing the pain of his Flame slowly dying.

  “My mother encouraged it. She knew he was hurting, she could feel his pain, and Mira lifted some of that off his shoulders. Four years after Talon was born, they realized they needed a legitimate heir. She gave birth to me knowing it could have very well killed her. It didn’t. She lived for seven years after that. My father and Mira... She left the palace, but Talon stayed, and my father kept a variety of other mistresses. When my mother died, Mira moved back. I don’t think he ever really recovered from losing my mom, even with Mira around, but I know it would have been worse without her.”

  “Well,” I say, not understanding why we feel so inclined to share so much with each other, “as long as we’re getting all deep and personal over here, my mother died, too. A few years after my father was executed. I wasn’t there for it, and I don’t miss either of them. My mother did little to protect us, needing to keep up my father’s political image. What small comforts she gave were meaningless to me.”

  “Don’t be too hard on her, Kainan. Abusive households are a tricky thing,” she says softly. She lets out a heavy sigh and a few minutes tick by. “I’m going to tell them,” she finally says. “They talk about wanting you dead, so I want them to know it wasn't really you. And as for us... Well, I don't think it's going to lead to anything, if I have anything to say about it.”

  Of all the beatings and abuse I’ve taken throughout my life, of all
the people I’ve loved and let down, and despite already knowing she felt that way, nothing has hurt more than hearing her say those words aloud.

  I find a way to bury the pain to shield her from suffering it, too.

  Jeez, I think to myself. I’ve become a simpering fool. I've known her for less than a week, and have had two total conversations with her I need to slow it down a bit. And, to make up for my pathetically lonely feelings, I say, “You can deny it all you want, but most women find me irresistible. Big guys always get the prize in the end.”

  She snorts out a laugh. “Your little brother is taller than you.”

  I laugh with her. “You’re not one to make fun of others’ height. What are you, five-three?”

  She narrows her amber eyes. “Five-four, mind you.”

  “Isn’t the average height for women in Namari like five-ten?” I tease.

  “And the average height for men is six-four, which you are not,” she bites back with a smirk.

  “Well played, but I wasn’t even initially talking about height, little firebird.”

  It suits her. The flame in her eyes, the blaze that roars with ferocity inside her. She’s like the phoenixes of mythology. A bird of fire.

  She shakes her head. “You’re disgusting, Kainan.” As Calla gets up from the stone floor to leave, she tosses a set of keys at me. “You’re free to go. You can stay at my place in Drakonis, for now, since I won’t be using it.”

  I smile as she walks away. I get up to follow, unable to keep my gaze from falling to her rear-end as her hips sway in front of me while she walks.

  “Pig,” she spits when she catches my lingering gaze, swatting a hand at me.

  “I heard that pig meat tasted delicious. I take that as a compliment.” I wink and flash her a smile, only to be met by a fist in the shoulder. Already, I can feel the bond doing its work.