Chapter 12

O f all her bad luck. Rafeal stood before her.

" You. " She looked him up and down, trying to be contemptuous and ignore the silly flutter in her stomach.

He appeared to find her response deeply amusing. "Nice to see you…again too."

Vala drew herself up, seething under his drunken gaze. Of course he had been drinking. An empty goblet dangled from his hand and his breath smote her, thick with wine. His coiffed hair shone like bronze threads and the purple velvet of his lounge suit fitted his muscled body to perfection. And yet his chiseled face lay ruined by that arrogant, twisted smirk.

The prince assessed her garments with a glint in his black eyes. "They say the emperor rewards those who do him service, but to rise from kitchen maid to courtier in one day is a trajectory that would impress even the most ambitious of us."

She snatched up her skirts to sweep past him. Emperor Luiximor himself was on her side, a fact she would use to her advantage. She no longer had to shiver with fear before anyone ever again. Especially not this drunken, idiotic waste of a handsome prince. It was useful to have a god for a protector , she thought, even if Luiximor did terrify her.

He remained blocking her path.

Her eyes narrowed. "Move. I'm not afraid of you."

He stifled a lazy yawn, his brows arching mildly. "The woman who speaks to dragons? No. I would never assume a bone of yours has ever felt fear."

She glared at him. His voice was so thick with mockery. Such an utterly hateful man.

His mouth twisted into another revolting smirk. "I will say, you clean up well. Such times we live in when muddy creatures can morph into glittering butterflies. HAH, there it is again. I know that look! You really do get so mad."

"Leave me alone. I work for Luiximor now." She really hoped the information would impart some shock to that stupid, haughty face.

He was the prince of the empire's main competitor, forced to marry to form an alliance with his country's chief competitor. He had grown up rich and pampered. He had no other way of life save to be useful through marriage. She doubted his father would cease extending his reign through Dynn living to let his dissolute son become king. She may have been dealt a poor hand by fate but at least she knew how to claw her way out of a mess.

"You're… working for Luiximor?" His voice was oddly soft.

She gave him a serene smile. "Yeah, Luiximor and I have loads of plans, so get out of my way and let me pass."

"Well," he drawled, sounding impeccably lazy and bored as only a prince could be. "Please accept my apologies for interrupting your ascension to the imperial chamber. In my poor, humble defense, I can only hope to remind you that not all good things glitter." With a sweeping bow and furious eyes, he stepped past her and stalked away down the hall.

She watched him leave with growing surprise. Not all good things glitter. What a peculiar statement. He had spat out those words as if in heavy disapproval. Of course, he thought she served the emperor in his bed. He was a lout. Luiximor needed her brains, not her body. How dare he even assume her business, she angrily thought. Even so, she was desperate to leave the hall in case he decided to return.

Back in her room, she flung herself upon the bed with a sigh. A budding question swelled deep within her mind, sharp and silvery upon the edges, reminiscent of the medicinal magic that had cured her aching body last night. Did Luiximor intend for them to become lovers? She shivered, overwhelmed by the idea of being intimate with him. Not that he was unattractive, but because he was so abjectly terrifying. Something else occurred to her, a thought appearing to take shape, but only to fall through her sifting consciousness. Within moments, she fell asleep.

But her dreams that night were frightening and seeped in pain. Amid the nightmares, she saw him , the Masked Man. His hood fell deep into shadow and blue eyes sparked within the black depths. Again and again, he died in front of her, burned alive in silver flames.

Angry, staccato tap-tap-taps woke her. Sleet smacked the windows. A ferocious, winter storm raged outside, concealing all view of the city. Judging from the gray light diffused downward from where the sun climbed beyond the clouds, the morning was late.

The servant pittered into the room, a cup of coffee outheld. Vala gulped down the black liquid before her tongue could protest the heat. The servant only gestured to the bathing area but today, she smiled. Vala was heartened by the sight.

"I'm from the Lower Levels," Vala said, figuring it best to show her separation from the grandeur. "What is your name?"

"Greeta," she said after a pause.

"I'm glad to meet you, Greeta. Where are you from?"

But no further questions prompted the woman to reply or look at her again.

After the bath, the servant worked upon her in silence and Vala reflected upon yesterday. Now that the Masked Man had revealed himself to be the emperor, she wondered if he would continue his Dynn Knight subterfuge. Had it all been for her or did he have additional reasons for the disguise? She supposed his concealment was highly useful in the Dynn. As a Knight, he could analyze and prune his own runes and never be fooled by badly created rune equations or rogue traders. She wondered just how the trades of her runes were set up to save Luiximor's runes during the eclipse. She badly wanted to see the equations for the trades, if only out of strictly professional interest, but she'd never get a chance for that type of top-secret information. She shook with anger, hands tight upon the bathtub sides as she hoisted herself up and followed the servant to the dressing area. They were using her runes, after all… her future. She had no say at all in the matter.

The servant finished and she assessed her image in the mirror. Sleek, liquid gold cloth swept along her arms and over her breasts and hips as though poured upon her body. Her fiery hair lay entwined with strings of rubies and a choker slashed blood-red across her exposed neck. The servant slipped on heels of amber satin, heavy with gold thread and summoned her guards.

Once more she was escorted through the halls of the palace, up silvery banisters and under massive chandeliers, past marble statues and grand windows. Here in the palace, surrounded by protection runes and facing the world's greatest rune holder, Luiximor, it felt like a curse more than ever to not be able to enter the Dynn.

She had been showing off, that first and only time. She had wanted to impress her parents with the hand movements she had copied from a hooded man who had opened a huge, black hole in the middle of the town. His face had been hidden in the shadows of the cloak but she still remembered his mighty frame. He had turned back to her as if wishing to say something. But he only hesitated before stepping into the Dynn and vanishing. During her trial, the government had accused her of killing her parents but really, the fire had not committed the murder.

Her thoughtlessness was the true culprit. She had acted without understanding the consequences and killed her parents. Janie was also dead because of her rash decision to return to the apartment. She could not blame fate or misfortune for the worst moments of her life.

Heep was right. No amount of remorse or tears could ever bring them back. She could only perform whatever penitence was allowed in her future. She wondered what exactly this could be, imprisoned as she was. The only other person she cared about who was still alive was Corina and gods only knew where she was. But then, she had an audience with the emperor. Perhaps she could use her influence to rescue Corina. Put her in a mansion in the Upper Levels with enough equi for a dozen lifetimes. She grinned despite the heaviness in her heart. Corina would like that a lot.

The guards halted before a grand entryway and stood to attention.

Luiximor rose from a table. He wore a black suit and as always his silver hair fell upon his broad chest. A platinum collar embedded with diamonds sparked gray light upon his firm jaw and eyes…blue eyes that glowed with joy upon seeing her.

She broke away from his hypnotic gaze and looked around the room with some awe. Marble walls punctured by windows that shook under the raging sleet storm, a vaulted ceiling pierced by a teardrop chandelier, and a stone floor covered with embroidered rugs. In the center of the room, an ebony and gold table rose, surrounded by elegant armchairs. It was revolting that such luxury existed when their own apartment had crawled with bugs and rats before Corina's cats provided them some relief.

"Generally, people bow or curtsy upon entering the presence of their emperor," Luiximor gave the faintest trace of a smile.

"Oh, my apologies," she stammered and bent her knees into an obeisance.

Luiximor waved her to rise and approach. A servant pulled out a chair and she sat. Plates of cold meats and cheese lay before her. Chocolate muffins crusted in sugar, pancakes that wept umber syrup, and a platter of sausages, eggs, and piping hot potatoes simmered to her right. Crystal bowls of cherries, peaches, and plums scattered amid cut roses and violets. The treacle aroma of coffee and tea from steaming brass carafes made her nose twitch. She had never seen so much food in all her life. All of this , she thought, for just one meal . Rage smoldered within her as she smiled at the emperor.

"My darling," Luiximor's eyes took in her face and body, lingering enough in various places to make her cheeks flush. "You are so beautiful."

He had such a possessive gaze. She couldn't determine if the feeling distressed or pleased her. "Your palace is…overwhelming."

He flashed a smile. "I remodeled everything after my father died. Now, my home shines like a star, providing light to the world in the gathering dark."

He studied his hands reflectively. Then she saw it. A fiery glow appeared between his palms. A small flame, waspish, quivering in coiled fury like a snake. A sun viper. The thought suddenly hit her, unbidden. He closed his hands and the fire vanished.

How many cities had he burned down over the centuries? How many people turned to ash? The immortal behind the Masked Man's disguise was colder and more calculating than she had previously estimated. Who knew that a black leather face covering could alter someone's personality so much? As the Masked Man, Luiximor had seemed so different, clever and thoughtful. This ostentatious cunning and arrogance was a remarkable difference. She supposed the freedom of anonymity had something to do with it. A mask of freedom…or a web of lies.

"Are you talking about the Noventury?"

He rose and walked around the table, stopping behind her chair. "Yes, that fateful time approaches. This Friday, as a matter of fact."

She felt his cold gaze upon her breasts; heard his quick intake of breath.

"How strange that within a single, black hour, my reign of nine hundred and ninety-nine years may be laid to waste. A market crash, the likes of which the world has never seen. My forest of runes, withered and dead in the Dynn. Mortality is a dreadful thing to ponder."

"The Dynn is unpredictable and dangerous, like the Dark God who created it." She felt her courage return upon the change to a familiar topic. She suddenly wondered what in the world happened to the immortal creator of the Dynn. None of the stories ever mentioned that part, only that the Dynn was made ownerless and ripe for human colonization, which is exactly what occurred over the many centuries since the Dark God left.

"But you can't enter the Dynn. How can you be so sure of your opinions when you have never walked in that world?" His hands clamped upon her chair back.

She nodded, confused as to why his voice sounded anxious. "I've read all about it. And my equations work just fine when others enact them for rune trades."

She half expected his hands to fall upon her shoulders and his lips to descend on her face, but he only continued his stalk around the table. Yet she saw understanding soften those sky-colored eyes. Those eyes that anchored the reality of the god emperor to those moments she had known with the Masked Man.

"I am sorry for your sake," he quietly said. "The Dynn is a beautiful world, serene as the lands of the moon."

She reached for a bagel as a distraction. Luiximor likely knew more about the surfaces of celestial bodies than anyone else. She wondered what he did between being reborn in mortal forms. Did his spirit stay on earth or travel the heavens, thinking about things beyond human comprehension? The thought confounded her. She had spent the greater part of two years around people who could enter the Dynn as easily as stepping through a doorway. A god who journeyed among the stars was another matter entirely.

"Speak. Tell me what is on your mind."

"I suppose being a Dynn Knight sometimes even outweighs the perks of being an emperor." She took a massive bite of the bagel.

"Dynn Knight? What do you mean?" Luiximor stopped pacing and stared at her.

She frowned. "Your Dynn Knight disguise?"

"Ah, I see," he replied slowly.

His gaze met hers, veiled with anger, and his fingers rapped upon a chairback for a second but he only walked on. She gulped her food, realization hitting her. She was a fool. Servants came and went in the breakfast room and guards were stationed everywhere. There was no telling who could overhear what. She had to sharpen her wits. She clenched gold fabric in her fists. This puzzle of political cleverness was so different to the problems of her rune equations. The solution felt harder to discern and the stakes far higher.

Luiximor smiled over her head at someone. She turned to see the empire's most recognizable royal enter the room.

Princess Helen was a perfection of beauty in a gown of emerald silk. Her skin was translucent and subtly painted to reduce the appearance of veins and her hair piled in gleaming waves through which green stones glinted.

"Brother, please introduce me to your guest." Even her voice was trilling and elegant.

Luiximor gestured to Vala. "This is Vala Flowers, my beloved bride to be and the future empress."

Vala choked on her mouthful. Bride to be? Since when had the emperor asked for her hand in marriage? Certainly, he had aggressively hauled her up to his palace to be his great short and save his future, but… marriage? Gods alive. Was this part of the trade strategy he planned for her runes? Apprehension struck her.

Helen elegantly sank into a chair. "My dear, eventual sister," she clasped jeweled hands together, "I am so glad to meet you. My brother has talked about you for…oh…many, many years…ever since I was born, really."

Luiximor must have felt her unease, for he waved away the servant offering her more coffee. "Helen, perhaps you can show Vala around the palace. After all, she will live here as my wife upon your departure."

Wife? Again, there it was. Her future marriage that she was wholly unaware of moments ago. So much for putting her at ease. She did not want to be his great short OR his wife. But how could she oppose an immortal emperor who wielded the fire of the sun? People simply bowed to that possessive, dominating gaze, and agreed to anything to save their life.

She really needed to talk to Luiximor at the soonest possible moment and alone. She needed leverage for such a conversation. If only she knew more about the trading strategy he had planned for her runes. Perhaps, she could advise him and render her freedom in exchange. Surely, he cared more about surviving the Noventury than obtaining an unwilling bride. Another thought struck her. Perhaps he did not think of her as unwilling. If he figured she was someone from a prior life, possessed of memories he shared with her, he must believe she would be ecstatic to finally stand by his side once more.

Her head hurt at the twists of logic. She really needed to get drunk, morning be damned.

But Helen was talking, her voice trembling as though imparting some grand secret. "Of course. You see, Vala, I am to wed Prince Rafeal of Theves this Saturday. Soon I will depart on his sunship to dwell in his court in Lagos."

Vala remembered her experience with Rafael and pitied Helen. Imagine having to deal with the prince and his mocking smirk for centuries of marriage. She could never .