***

“There are over a hundred rioters just in Imperial Square,” Nimbus reported. “And more arriving every minute. Ethelred has pulled the guards back and closed the palace gates.”

“I heard some guards were killed. Is that true?” Amilia asked from her desk.

“Only one, I think. But several others were badly beaten. The rioters are calling for the empress.”

“I’ve heard them. They’ve been chanting for the last hour.”

“Since the tournament, they don’t trust Ethelred or Saldur. The crowd wants an explanation and they’ll accept it only from the empress.”

“Saldur will be coming here, won’t he? He’ll want me to have Modina say something. He’ll order me to have the empress make a statement about Breckton and Hadrian plotting to take the throne.”

Nimbus sighed and nodded. “I would suspect so.”

“I won’t do it,” Amilia said defiantly. She rose and slapped her desk. “Sir Breckton isn’t a traitor and neither is Sir Hadrian. I won’t be a party to their execution!”

“If you don’t, it’s likely you will share their fate,” Nimbus warned. “After tomorrow, Ethelred will be the emperor. He will officially rule and there will be precious little need for Modina’s nursemaid.”

“I love him, Nimbus.” This was the first time she had said the words—the first time she admitted it, even to herself. “I can’t help them kill him. I don’t care what they do to me.”

Nimbus gave her a sad smile and sat down in the chair near her desk. This was the first time that Amilia could remember him sitting in her presence without first asking permission. “I suppose they will have even less need for a tutor. Hadrian obviously did something wrong and I will likely be blamed.”

Someone walked by outside the office and both shot nervous glances at the closed door.

“It’s like the whole world is ending.” Tears ran down Amilia’s cheeks. “This morning I was so happy. I think I woke up happier than I’d ever been.”

They paused anxiously as they heard several more people running past the door.

“Do you think I should check on Modina?” Amilia asked.

“It might be wise.” Nimbus nodded. “The empress always sits by that window. She’s bound to hear the protests. She’ll be wondering what’s going on.”

“I should talk to her. After the way she acted at the feast, who knows what she’s thinking.” Amilia stood.

Just as the two moved toward the door, it burst open and Saldur stormed in. The regent was red-faced, his jaw clenched. He slammed the door shut behind him.

“Here!” Saldur shoved a parchment in Amilia’s face. A few lines of uneven text were scrawled across it. “Make Modina learn this and have her reciting it on the balcony in one hour—exactly as written!”

Wheeling to leave, he opened the door.

“No,” Amilia said softly.

Saldur froze. Slowly, he closed the door and turned around. He glared at her. “What did you say?”

“I won’t ask Modina to lie about Sir Breckton. That’s what this is, isn’t?” She looked at the parchment and read aloud, “My loyal subjects…” She skipped down. “…found evidence…Sir Breckton and Sir Hadrian…guilty of treason against the Empire…committed the vilest crime both to man and god and must pay for their evil.” Amilia looked up. “I won’t ask her to read this.”

“How dare you.” Saldur rose to his full height and glowered down at her.

“How dare you?” she retorted defiantly. “Sir Breckton is a great man. He is loyal, considerate, kind, honora—”

Saldur struck Amilia hard across the face, sending her to the floor. Nimbus started to move to her, but stopped short. Saldur ignored him.

“You were a scullery girl! Or have you forgotten? I made you! Have you enjoyed pretending to be a lady? Did you like wearing fine dresses and riding off to the hunt, where knights fawned all over you? I’m sure you did, but don’t let your feelings for Breckton go to your head. This is no game and you should know better. I understand you’re upset. I understand you like the man. But none of this matters. I am building an empire here! The fate of future generations is in our hands. You can’t toss that aside because you have a crush on someone you think looks dashing in a suit of armor. You want a knight? I’ll arrange for you to have any knight in the kingdom. I promise. I can even arrange a marriage with a crown prince, if that is what you wish. How’s that? Is that grand enough for you, Amilia? Would you like to be a queen? Done. What matters right now is that we keep the Empire from crumbling. I’ve given you power because I admire your cunning. But this is not negotiable. Not this time.

“There might only be a few hundred rioters out there now,” Saldur said, pointing to her window, “but word will spread and in a day or two we could be facing a civil war! Do you want that? Do you want to force me to send the army out to slaughter hundreds of citizens? Do you want to see the city set on fire? I will not have it. Do you hear me?”

Saldur grew angrier and more animated as his tirade continued. “I like you, Amilia. You’ve served me well. You’re smarter than any ten nobles, and I honestly plan to see you rewarded handsomely for your service. I’m serious about making you a queen. I will need loyal, intelligent monarchs governing the imperial provinces. You’ve proved I can count on you and that you can think for yourself. I value such qualities. I admire your spirit, but not THIS time. You will obey me, Amilia, or by Maribor’s name, I’ll have you executed with the rest!”

Amilia shook. Her lower lip trembled even as she clenched her jaw. Still clutching the paper, she balled her hands into tight fists and breathed deeply as she tried to control herself. “Then you’d better order another stake for the bonfire,” she said, tearing the parchment in two.

He glared at her for a moment longer, and then threw open the door and two seret entered. “Take her!”