Tasia bristled. “Do not speak of the dead that way. Or of Adela, for that matter. As if she is nothing.”
The Emperor slammed his fist against the desk, rattling the lanterns, vase of roses, and ink bottles upon it. Tasia flinched without meaning to.
“And do not speak to your father, the Emperor, that way!” he bellowed. “You want to know who is nothing, Natasia? You. You are nothing without that royal crest you wear so easily upon your ring. You are nothing without the name of the House of Dorsa to bolster you. Without that name, you are nothing more than another spoiled and arrogant highborn girl. And despite being born with so much, you seem content to throw it away — an entire Empire — for the sake of another night with some Ambassador’s son!”
Tasia knew her father well enough to know when to hold her tongue. She was also similar enough to her father that she failed to hold her tongue most of the time. But now, miraculously, she managed to stay quiet.
Her father turned from the desk, paced again, running his hands through his hair.
“You are the strongest of my children. You always have been. Nikhost was weak, insecure. He never would’ve been able to command the respect of even the ambassadors, let alone the lords.”
Hearing her brother’s name sent a stab of pain through Tasia’s heart, as if the assassin had succeeded and his black blade was still lodged between her ribs. First her mother. Now her brother. Her father seemed determined to resurrect ghosts tonight.
“Nik wasn’t ‘weak,’” she said. “He was thirteen.”
“He was weak, Tasia, and you know it. Your mother saw to that.”
“Stop speaking ill of those who are not here to defend themselves,” Tasia snapped. “Maybe Nik wouldn’t have been so insecure if his father didn’t always look at him as if he was a disappointment. If I’m strong, it’s only because you ignored me. You’ve always had more important things to take up your time than your daughters.”
The Emperor stopped pacing, pinned Tasia against the divan with his black eyes.
Angry, she held his gaze with defiance. Several seconds passed before Tasia realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled, and her eyes broke away from her father’s at the same time.
“You think you know so much,” the Emperor said. “But your actions reveal that you are hardly more than a child. A foolish child, at that, who nearly got herself killed tonight. For nothing.” He practically spat the final word, then lowered himself in the chair behind his desk with a heavy sigh. “If two city guardsmen know that the Princess was found leaving the Ambassador Quarter before dawn, it won’t be long before word spreads and people begin to talk. I cannot wait any longer, Tasia. It’s time you accept a husband.”
He might as well have doused her in ice water. She sucked in a breath as her chest tightened. “No. I’m not ready. There’s no one who — ”
“Natasia. You’re nineteen. It’s been over a year and a half since you came of age. And you’ve rejected every proposal I’ve offered so far.”
“Which is my right,” she said.
“Which is your privilege,” he corrected. “But while you remain unmarried, the Empire remains vulnerable. I need an heir to mold while I am still in my prime.”
She said nothing.
“You’re old enough to remember the Western Rebellion,” her father went on. “Or the end of it, at least. We barely held the Four Realms together. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that every taproot of those weeds have been pulled. The Empire cannot survive another rebellion in my lifetime, not while we fight a war in the East and wait for one to erupt in the south.”
Tasia said nothing for a moment. She said she didn’t care for politics, but that wasn’t to say she didn’t understand them. And although she might not want to marry some pliable Lord’s son with ambitions for the Emperor’s crown, she didn’t want the Empire fall into chaos and disarray due to her own foolish selfishness, either.
“I’m sorry, father,” she said, sincere for the first time. “I didn’t mean to… take my duty for granted.”
He sighed. “At the moment, I’m simply glad you came home to me alive. I prefer planning royal weddings to royal funerals. You think I care nothing for my daughters, that I ignore you both. That is not true,” he said. The words were as close to an expression of affection as Tasia could hope for. “Well. I may not have a wedding or a funeral to plan quite yet, but as long as Cole’s men bring your assassin back alive, it seems I do still have an interrogation to plan.”
And as if he was some kind of spirit, summonable by the whisper of his name, the Commander of the palace guard reentered the room and closed the door softly behind him.
The Emperor met Cole’s eye, an unspoken question on his face.
Cole nodded. “It is underway, Majesty. The assassin will be in the dungeons before the sun rises.”
“And the city guardsmen?” the Emperor asked.
Cole gave a sly grin. “They will enjoy a healthy addition to their salaries, provided the girl who was attacked remains simply a…” He glanced at Tasia. “Baker’s girl.”
The Emperor nodded. “Good. We shall see how long they can hold their tongues.”
“They’ll keep quiet,” Cole said. “I made it very clear what would happen if they did not. I’m afraid I made quite the impression on young Mack.”
The Emperor stroked his beard. “Very well. Speaking of guards, Cole. There is the other matter I wanted to address.” He sat up straighter, regarded Tasia with his bottomless black eyes for a long few seconds. “Since someone seems to know my daughter’s movements better than I do, and is bold enough to send an assassin, she requires a bodyguard of her own.”
Tasia opened her mouth to protest, but Cole spoke before she could.
“That is easy enough to arrange, your Majesty,” he said. “I can think of several good men in the palace guard who would be suitable — men I trained myself.”
The Emperor nodded. “Good. We can discuss them. Whomever we choose is to stay at her side every hour of the clock.”
Tasia cleared her throat. “Father, Cole — I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but… Someone with me at every hour of the clock? Even in my personal apartments?”
“Every hour means every hour,” her father said.
Thank Mother Moon. They’d given her a loophole to this house arrest without realizing it. “But while I remain unmarried,” Tasia said innocently, “it is unlawful for a man to be in the apartments of a princess without her father’s supervision or the supervision of a trusted male chaperone.”
“It is unlawful for a man to be in your apartments with you alone,” Cole corrected. “Your handmaid — what is her name again? — she would be there, as well.”
“Lady Mylla, of House Harthing,” Tasia supplied. “But that’s where you misunderstand. Mylla isn’t with me continuously. She leaves on errands, or to fetch my meals, or goes into the city for parcels. And three times per year, she leaves the palace for a week to visit her family in the West.”
Tasia was careful not to let the triumph show on her face. As frightening as the assassination attempt had been, she refused to allow her father to foist a babysitter upon her.