“You think I’m interested in needlework, baubles, and berry lip stains?” She waited for his response, but his mouth only moved without any utterance of sound.

From behind her, she heard a snicker.

She turned sharply, her gaze fixing upon the guard—her guard—who had a grin fixed upon his face.

“Do you find that amusing?” she asked.

“Yes, your grace,” the guard replied.

“And why is that?”

He glanced at his compatriots to either side of him, neither of whom met his gaze. “Well, because that’s what women enjoy—ways to look prettier for their men.”

He said it without a moment’s pause, as if it were obvious and not in the least bit offensive.

“My, my,” Kyan breathed into her ear. “That is rather insolent, don’t you think?”

She did indeed.

“Tell me. Do you think I should buy some lip stain to please my husband when he finally returns to me?” she asked.

“I think so,” he responded.

“That is my goal as empress, of course—to please my husband and any other man who happens to glance my way.”

“Yes, your grace,” he replied.

It was the last thing he would ever say. Amara thrust the dagger she kept with her into the guard’s gut, staring into his eyes as they went wide with surprise and pain.

“Disrespect me, any of you,” she said, casting her gaze to the other guards who regarded her with surprise, “and die.”

The guard who’d spoken unwisely fell to the ground. She nodded at Carlos to remove the body, and he did so without hesitation.

“Well done, little empress,” Kyan whispered. “You show me your worth more and more with each day that passes.”

Amara turned a smile toward Mauro, whose expression now held cold fear. “I look forward to the market. It sounds lovely.”

• • •

Later that day, accompanied by Mauro and the royal guards, Amara and Nerissa explored the market, which consisted of twenty carefully selected stalls that, as promised, mostly carried frivolous products—specifically beauty and fashion items.

Amara ignored the embroidered scarves and dresses, the lip stain, the creams meant to remove blemishes, and the sticks of coal to ring one’s eyes and tried instead to focus on the vendors themselves—Paelsians, young and old, with weary but hopeful expressions as she approached them.

No fear, no dread—just hope.

How odd to find this in a conquered kingdom, she thought. Then again, the Kraeshian occupation of Mytica had been mostly peaceful so far, especially in Paelsia. Still, Carlos had made her aware of rebel groups who conspired against her, both in Limeros and Auranos.

That caused her no troubles. Rebels were an unavoidable pest, but one that could usually be swatted away easily.

Amara watched as Nerissa moved closer to a stall to inspect a silk scarf the vendor had thrust out toward the young woman.

“I’m pleased to see that you’re settling in nicely,” Kyan whispered warmly in her ear. Her shoulders stiffened at the sound of his voice.

“I’m trying my best,” she replied quietly.

“I fear I must leave you now for a time as I seek the magic we need to perform the ritual.”

The thought alarmed her. They’d only just arrived! “Now? You’re leaving now?”

“Yes. Soon I will be restored to my full glory, and you will be powerful beyond your belief. But we need the magic to seal this.”

“Lucia’s magic. And her blood.”

“Her blood, yes. But not the sorceress herself. I will find an alternate source of magic. However, we will need sacrifices—blood to seal the magic.”

“I understand,” she whispered. “When will you return?”

Amara waited, but he didn’t respond to her.

She then felt a rustle at her skirts and looked down. A little girl, no more than four or five years old, with jet-black hair and freckles on her tanned cheeks, approached Amara tentatively, holding out a flower to her.

Amara took the flower. “Thank you.”

“It’s you, isn’t it?” the girl asked breathlessly.

“And who do you think I am?”

“The one who’s come here to save us all.”

Amara shared a droll look with Nerissa, who’d returned to her side now wearing the colorful scarf, then smiled down at the child again. “Is that what you think?”

“That’s what my mama tells me, so it must be true. You will kill the evil witch who’s been hurting our friends.”

A woman approached, clearly embarrassed, and took the little girl’s hand. “Forgive us, empress. My daughter doesn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s no bother,” Amara said. “Your daughter is very brave.”

The woman chuckled. “More like stubborn and foolish.”

Amara shook her head. “No. It is never too early for girls to learn to speak their minds. It’s a habit that will make them braver and stronger as they grow up. Tell me, do you believe as she believes? That I have arrived to save you all?”

The woman’s expression darkened, and her brows drew together with worry and doubt. She looked Amara in the eyes. “My people have suffered for more than a century. We were under the command of a man who tried to fool us into believing he was a sorcerer, who taxed us all so heavily that, even with the great profits from the vineyards, we have been unable to feed ourselves. This land we call home is wasting away beneath our feet, even as we speak. When King Gaius vanquished Basilius and King Corvin, many of us thought that he would help us. But no help has come. Nothing has changed; it has only worsened.”