by Amy Raby
Florian laughed. “You were right the first time when you said you needed to know the particulars. This idea of your cousin’s was practically treason. He wants us to call off the war with Mosar.”
Rhianne turned to Lucien, who grimaced without meeting her eyes.
“I don’t call that brilliance. I call it cowardice,” said Florian, turning to Lucien. “And I will not hear it from you again. Is that clear?”
Lucien nodded.
“Speaking of family, it’s time to expand it,” said Florian. “Rhianne, you shall marry.”
A shiver crept up her spine. Marry? Most of the men were away at war. She hadn’t met anyone she desired to marry. And then there were practical considerations. Marrying would almost certainly take her away from the Imperial Palace, and then who would deliver the tetrals? Certainly not Lucien, the way he’d been talking. “Well, I . . . I haven’t met anyone yet.”
Emperor Florian waved his hand. “I have a husband in mind for you: Augustan Ceres, commander of our forces at Mosar. When he finishes the military operation, I plan to offer him the governorship of the island, and you shall be his bride.”
“I’m to be a war prize?” She glanced sidelong at Lucien, whose eyes were downcast. He’d already known.
“Not a war prize. A governor’s wife!” said Florian. “You’ve always wanted to travel to foreign lands. Now you shall, to Mosar.”
“I’ve never met Augustan.”
“Easily remedied,” said Florian. “I shall summon him back to Kjall long enough for a brief engagement before he returns to the front.”
“And if I don’t like him?”
“You will,” said Florian.
Rhianne supposed if she didn’t, he’d smack her like he had Lucien until she changed her mind.
“Now, if you’ll run along, I have a few more things to discuss with your cousin,” said Florian.
Rhianne walked numbly toward the door.
“One moment,” called Lucien, swinging rapidly toward her on his crutch and wooden leg. When he reached her, he whispered, “We’ll talk later,” and slipped something into the inside pocket of her syrtos. She could tell by the clinking sound that it was the fifteen tetrals.