There was no time to mourn—or perhaps there had been, but Rina had not been ready, instead she filled herself with the need to act and prepare while those in her circle kept up a facade that all was well. When it came, she jumped at the excuse to run away, desperate to escape from the weight of leadership and all the truths it revealed.

More rebellion had ignited in her hometown. Small flares that were quickly stomped out. Media contacted the capital seeking a word from Mai about what to do with the rebels and was told a delegation would be sent.

Without any word from Mai, the rebels in Amadore would soon be executed. So would Pietro, who had found a way to contact and recruit them from his cell—the gods knew how. Some sympathist within the ranks of guards—or perhaps even amongst the magisters themselves, Rina supposed.

The ship rocked beneath her now, and, still uneasy with the sea, Rina grabbed the damp banister, squinting her eyes to make out the strip of green land.

If Media learned of Mai's death before she arrived, Pietro was unlikely to last the night, and the Denese might rebel one last time. Should this happen, any hope of bringing them to her side would fizzle out. She needed to get there before this happened.

It was a delaying game. Word would leak, from servants who didn't see Mai or suspicious members of the magisterium. It would seep out into the spy and trade networks, making its way across oceans and deserts and plains. Eurora's god-like emperor had disappeared, and all he left was an Arkis-spawned Denese empress and their unborn child.

Mai had kept the identities of his offspring shrouded. Did people know that few of them could wield the Carnelian Way, or that those born with it held not nearly enough power to take his place? Some must. Long-lived, he never acknowledged his children openly. Instead, he rose above the act of bearing an heir. No true god needed one. But he had not been a god, and he'd sensed his time was coming—that he might need to sacrifice himself to bring the people of Denea and Eurora together.

Rina closed her eyes, feeling the burn of tears. The punch to her solar plexus. Mai's records and journals had been difficult to digest.

She had the power of consumption, and their child fed on this, growing far faster than any normal child. Yet this would mean little until it grew and its powers manifest.

The timeline of Mai's plans spanned decades. She had months, perhaps a year. The only certainty, it was a matter of time until Eurora found itself invaded. No country divided could stand such a thing.

Cold sloshed through Rina as she recalled the reports she'd read. Naval fleets continued to amass through the island nations of the Cerulean Sea, and the land armies of the Cloud Lands and Gilt Cities grew with each year. These were highest on Eurora's radar—but not the only concerns. Other nations would watch, learn, and come unless a united Eurora made a statement that would rattle the world.

The air was cool and crisp on her skin. Not the snap of winter as there had been when she left Amadore, but the northern reaches never experienced the heat of Nebia. She tasted salt. The sea spray dampened her hair, turning the curls heavy and matted.

Mai had left everything for her. Arkis and Elia's journals. His journals, diagrams, and vast caches of crystal disks where he spoke of his past and his plans for the future. He left enough resources for a handful of trusted magisters and Denese to see to running the city and putting the beginnings of his plans in motion. At the same time, Rina hurried to Amadore, making full use of the crystal reserves to speed her journey. She now understood Ro had used the Denese élan vital to power the ship. Though it hadn't been viable for the Magisterium to drain the Denese continuously and maintain their secret, so they'd relied on the wind. This time, Rina had the crystals and group of willing Denese and magisters.

Footfalls alerted Rina to Olav's arrival. "Just around the bend, Empress. We'll be there within the hour."

Rina nodded, recognising the landmarks. "Just Ri when it's us, Ol."

His breath hitched as he fought to argue. A sigh. Then, "As you wish, Ri." He came to stand beside her, gloved hands wrapped about the rails, looking down at her with his black eyes. She looked up at him. The black ringlets of his hair danced in the wind, so much like Mai's, as was the shape of his jaw. The alabaster of his skin. The same uncertainty in his face as she saw in Mai when they were alone, and he could just be a man.

She swallowed, the movement painful. Olav's fingers inched toward hers, and she stretched out her pinky finger, so they touched.

☆☽○☾☆

A contingent of guards and magisters waited for them at the port as they arrived. Media stood at the head, red hair alive in the wind, those black eyes narrowed, and her lips twisted—not a cruel snarl, but an acknowledgment that something significant had changed. Something beyond a Denese empress standing before one of the highest-ranking magisters in the land. She bowed a deep bow to Rina. "Empress." The rest of the arrival party following suit, the lower acolytes and rear guards falling to their knees.

They took the winding cliff road up to the keep, wading between a sea of late spring grass.

This time Rina didn't slip and slide but sat in a palanquin ahead of Media's, the tromp of Olav's boots a reassuring rhythm before her. When she strode up the stairs to Media's tower, her contingent of guards and protectors behind her, she didn't tremble. Nor did she pause before that great oak door lit by the mage lights, or note any shudder of the sentries. She marched into the solar and to Media's desk, flicking her wrist the moment Media and Olav entered behind her. The door slammed shut.

Rina stopped at Media's chair. It slid out, and she sat, adjusting her back to accommodate the ever-increasing bulge of her stomach. Not long now. She looked at Olav, then to the side table of decanters. He walked to it and poured the same iridescent drink with the swirls of pink, blue, and green as he had the time before. He set the glass before Rina, not looking at Media.

Media raised her brows then sat across from Rina, clasping her hands in her lap. The same ageless face. The silver diadem with the carnelian crystal like a third eye, far grander than most high magisters.

Rina made a point of inspecting the items before her. Quill, ink, parchment, ink blotter, paperweight, and a black obsidian dragon with crystal eyes. She quirked her head and lifted one eyebrow questioningly. Media's expression remained blank. The dragon was cool and smooth in Rina's hands, yet the energy vibrated within it.

"My aunt has one just like this," she said.

Media said nothing.

"I understand they're used to communicate from one location to another. This sort"—she indicated the dragon—"can cover shorter distances, such as within a city. While other devices, such as what you have in your private chambers, may send the information much farther. Those are much more obtrusive, though, and not something that could say, be placed in a living room as ornamentation. Not like this."

"I am sure you have a point, Empress," said Media, cooly.

Rina took a sip of her drink. Just as sweet as she remembered. Too sweet. But she was tired and the child taking more and more from her each day, so she relished it.

Media eyed the drink.

"Oh, would you like a drink?" asked Rina. "Perhaps something stronger, though."

Boots thumped on wood as Olav strode across the room.

"It always struck me as odd that my aunt owned such a precious ornament," Rina continued. "No one else we knew owned anything as fine. Before his injuries, my uncle carved beautiful things, but he gave them away, and they were just wood or stone. Nothing like this. So I wondered, why would my aunt own such a thing?"

Olav placed a small glass before Media. For a moment, Media lifted a hand, as if to brush his arm, but stopped herself.

"Was it possible that someone gave it to her as a gift? Had she, as I had, a forbidden admirer before she married my uncle? Perhaps even a magister?"

The slightest quirk tilted Media's lip.

"I didn't think so," said Rina. "I'd heard how infatuated Uma was with my uncle when they were partnered—so much she didn't care how he despised her. And it struck me too, why would the Magisterium partner them when this was the case? Wouldn't children be unlikely?"

"I can't say. I was in Nebia at the time," Media said, then lifted her glass and sipped.

The sky darkened outside, and the room began to chill. Rina waved her hand, and the wood in the fireplace flared.

"That's right. A promising young magister with a young son in the nursery who would surely be gifted with the Carnelian Way."

Media smiled a stiff smile. "That was a long time ago."

"Strange, that you came here, with all your gifts and youth and beauty. Most magister's in your position would have stayed and clawed their ways up the ranks."

Media twirled the stem of her glass between thumb and forefinger, the faintest flush to her cheek.

"What did you do?" asked Rina.

"Nothing."

"I'm your empress now. Tell me."

"So it's true," said Media in answer. "Mai is dead."

Ice curled in Rina's guts. If Media' suspected, who else did? She steeled herself. She couldn't show weakness, not now and especially not to this woman.

"Yes," Rina said, fighting to keep her face expressionless and the liquid fire in her eyes from spilling over. "I trust you will keep it to yourself. Now, as your empress, answer my questions."

One of Media's hands gripped the armrest of her chair while the other continued to twirl the glass. "It was a misunderstanding."

Rina barked a laugh. "Poisoning a rival is a misunderstanding?"

"She wasn't a true rival. My son was younger than her daughter, and I was stronger than her. There was no reason to suggest their daughter was more gifted than our son."

"You have the gift of sensing, don't you," said Rina. "You knew Olav wouldn't be able to wield the Carnelian Way, while Anya—"

"Exactly," Media said, cutting Rina off. Rina frowned, not following.

"Olav is gifted. He can command an army like no other. You haven't seen him in battle. He can—"

"You know full well that I am aware of Olav's potential, but it isn't enough to be heir to an emperor mage, not by far."

Media's face drained. Beside her, Rina noted the way Olav stiffened. So, he hadn't known Mai was his father—perhaps that had been for the best. To grow up the child of a high-magister, without the Carnelian Way was enough of a shame, but the son of a god-like emperor.

"You don't know that. It was possible—it still is. Like you said, I am gifted in sensing. The Carnelian Way comes late for some, but Anya's mother was from—"

"Her grandmother was born to merchants." Rina finished for her. She closed her eyes and breathed. That the Magisterium looked down on the merchants and commoners bewildered her almost as much as how they looked down on the Denese. They were both their people. Without them, with their low birth rates, they would fade away.

"Very few of Mai's children had the Carnelian Way," said Media. "Did he tell you that before he seduced you?" she added, a sneer on her lips. "Those that did, their gifts—at least the full extend of them—became apparent later. It was always possible for my son's power—"

Rina slammed her drink on the desk."You murdered Anya's mother when you realised Anya would have more ability than any of his previous children. Not enough to rule, but you didn't want her to bear another child in case the next one did. He cared for you, and you took away his ability to have his son raised near him. The gods know why he cared, but he did. To the very last."

"No, he didn't!" Media spat. "He just wanted an heir worthy of the throne. I gave him everything—I still did after he sent me here, but it wasn't enough."

A sad smile swept across Rina's face. She felt pity for this woman who had been sent away from Nebia before Anya's family could demand more severe punishment, and who let bitterness freeze her sense.

"He loved you once, Media. Deeply. I read his journals after he passed. That love changed, but it never left, and you owe your life to that. In a way, you achieved what you wanted." Media frowned, lips tight, but didn't interrupt Rina. "You see, Media, you made Mai realise the Magisterium sought power above all, even while it dwindled through its thinning bloodlines. That he couldn't look to his magisters to find an heir, and he was tired of it all. Guilt-ridden for what he did to my people, homesick for Denea, and fearful of the threat of foreign invasion. You made him look to us. To me."

Media's lip curled.

"You realised that, didn't you?" Rina said.

Media picked up her drink and finished it in one gulp.

"Is that why you sent your son to trail me when Mai told you he wanted me among his chosen? Is that why you encouraged him to get to know me intimately? Did you plan for us to fall in love, so when I was eventually forced to go to Nebia, I would refuse Mai and choose Olav instead?"

"I did what my emperor asked," Media said, words like the crack of the whip.

"You wove the net for him while you frayed the rope," said Rina. "You wanted revenge."

Media sucked her teeth.

"I won't have liars in my court, Media. Like it or not, the child I bear is sister to your son. That, potentially, places you in the circle of influence among the coming changes."

"How do you know the child will be worthy?"

Rina let a slow smile unfurl across her face. "She will shake the world, high magister. We will be the clay dried from the drought, and she will break us apart, immerse us, mould us, and fire us into something that cannot be broken again. If you saw the spark Mai and I ignited, you would not doubt what I say. Each day, he fed our child on his power—on the élan vital you and he stole from my people. I feel it. Come—you have the gift of sensing. Feel it."

Media's head tilted to the side. A vein ticked at her temple. Slowly, she stood, the chair scraping on the floorboards, and walked around the table. She loomed above Rina and hovered her hand over her stomach. Rina nodded, and Media lowered her hand, closing her eyes. A second after her hand came in contact with the fabric over Rina's flesh, she stiffened, her eyes tightening, breath sucking in. Seconds later, she yanked her hand away, breathing heavily, black eyes wide.

"How?"

"I'm Arkis and Elia's heir," said Rina.

Media hissed. "He's been searching for you for—"

"No, he never searched. He watched me all along."

"He never told me."

"Of course he didn't—he told no one, let alone someone who broke his trust."

Media's brow creased as she looked down at Rina. Yet there was hesitation in her posture and words as she said, "So why should I trust you? I heard of what happened with the mubash. How do I know you didn't poison him?"

"I think you already felt why. I think you know why. I will tell you, though, and then I'll show you."

Rina stood reluctantly. Despite the infusions of Carnelian Way from the crystals, her body still felt tired from everything she fed to the child. Her instincts told her to rest, though she had little need for sleep. They also told her she needed to show Ro who was in charge. She might have the briar crown locked up until it was time to announce Mai's death, but she also needed to act as if she wore it. Mai would never have let a magister stand over him.

"Come," Rina said to Media and walked to the diamond-paned windows to the city below. A fine spring rain had begun, dotting the glass. The setting sun made the red-roof tiles blaze and sent a flush across the limestone of the manses beneath the keep. The streets wound ever downwards, like snaking rivers, through the districts until they met the outer wall and the crops below. A dark line marked a strip of forest. Further fields lay beyond it. Yet more beyond that.

"I assume you are aware of the threats that continue to grow abroad," Rina said.

Media stepped beside her and placed her fingers on the glass, nails tapping, her skin thin but flawless. So she took the infusions, too.

"Yes. I am," Media replied. "I never meant to attack Mai. Despite what happened between us, he was my emperor and the father of my child and this nation. Without him..." Her words trailed off.

"You're not a fool like Ro and her followers."

Media rounded on Rina. "They were traitors," she hissed "and got what they deserved."

Olav's boots echoed on the floorboards, nearing at Media's tone. Rina smiled at her ever-faithful shadow, protecting her from his mother, even though Rina had the power to turn this city to ash if she wished.

"You are all too aware of the origins of the Magisterium's power—else you wouldn't have sent Olav after me." Media sniffed at the words. Acknowledgment—good. "And that other nations suspect how this power wanes. Mai decided to strengthen the bloodlines of the magisterium by joining magisters and loyal, powerful Denese."

Rina caught the way Media winced as she said powerful. A part of her revelled at this. All those years begging for forgiveness for something they didn't do, seeking absolution when it was the Magisterium who both feared and were dependent on their élan vital.

"He had a bigger plan, too. A plan to keep Eurora safe and make amends to the Denese. He wanted to revive the Devastation."

Media's breath caught on a gasp. "That's not possible."

"Ah, but it is. Not the ideal time, but it can be done."

"How?"

"There is a stockpile of crystals in Nebia, and we would need volunteers to sacrifice their energy—Denese and Magisters alike."

Media sneered. "It doesn't work like that. You need a network to infuse the power."

"Did you think he only sent those prisoners to mine the crystals in Hypat? They've been building a network under the city and the once-fertile crescent. It's not complete, but there's enough."

"What about powering the cities?" Media asked. "If we were to announce this, the people would rebel, and by the time we quelled them, spies would have raised the alarm in the Cerulean Seas and The Cloud Lands. They would be here before we could return, no doubt followed by the Gilt Cities."

"You're right," said Rina. "This would need to be done in secret—and as for the power. We have a plan. There is a reserve of crystals, food, and other supplies in each major city, and Mai has developed a new form of power to light our nation. There will be a shortage, to begin with, but if we can be sparing with the supplies, we can hide this weakness. If we can convince the Denese to help us, they can be trusted. They've been through enough—they won't want physical shackles."

Media nodded. The Cloud Lands were renowned for the chains they used on their slaves, and despite the rich deposits of gold in the Gilt Cities, human flesh was the most-prized commodity. A slave with the Carnelian Way, in whatever form, would be priceless.

"When we are done, we will invite their delegations to Hypat to see me crowned. They'll be awed and too full of dread to invade."

"You're mad," said Media. "Mai was mad, too."

"Perhaps, but do you have a better plan?"

Media stared across the city, fingers gripping the window ledge. A roll of thunder came from across the hills to the east, and the rain picked up.

"No," she said. "I don't."

"Then, are you with me?"

"Hmpf," Mehdia snorted. "What are family for, if not to help enact deranged schemes?"

★☾●☽★

A/N: Thank you again for reading. Rina is home again and in charge. I hope you like this. What do you think of the plan? Just one chapter left. If you like what you read, please consider voting💚