Shadow War - Deborah Chester [51]
Her gaze shifted away.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
She obeyed him, still upset although she wasn’t sure why. It took effort to meet his eyes, but she saw no anger or disappointment there. She bit her lip to stop it from trembling and tried to listen.
“You are spirited and courageous,” he said. “Better than that, you are pure of heart and true of conviction. I have been neither for centuries. You would go to the wall for what you believe in. Imperia needs that.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Let me give you sons,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “I have a son. I do not need more. They have always disappointed me.”
“Then—”
“Hear me,” he said, putting his finger across his lips. “I believe in nothing anymore. I have lived too long. Seen too much. Been disillusioned too many times. But you have brought hope back into my heart. You, and you alone. I have tested you, and found you worthy. I have had discussions with your father. I have even talked to the Penestrican witches about you.”
She frowned at that, but before she could speak, he continued, “I am going to crown you sovereign empress, Ela.”
She looked at him, stunned.
He smiled. “Do you understand what that means?”
Her wits were scattered, yet this was no time to be undone. She struggled to find her voice. “I—you want me—I am to—”
“You will rule with me, as me, for me.”
She swallowed, choking a little, and had nothing to say. The magnitude of it overwhelmed her.
“I am getting old,” he said, then grimaced wryly at his own understatement. “Let me rephrase that. I am coming to the end of my time. I have cheated death a long, long while. But that is over. The augurs have cast no prophecy after me. There has been no one named who will follow me.”
She knew that. It made her feel slightly faint.
“Some say the world will end,” she said softly, and by sheer strength of will managed not to glance at the black cloud that had lain across the northern horizon for several days now. “Some say we are facing the end of time.”
“Some say that,” he agreed. “Fools. I do not believe such superstitions. I am emperor, but I remain a man. To the gods, I am not important enough for them to end the world they play with. But neither will I go peaceably; neither will I go without putting my stamp on who is to follow me.”
She was feeling stronger now. Her thoughts were more coherent. “Will it be the prince?”
“Probably. If he is man enough to seize control without destroying the empire in the process.” The emperor shrugged. “I do not worry about Tirhin. If it should be someone else, then that is for the gods to decide. But I want my final days to be easy. I am tired, Ela. I am bored at last with my power, and that tells me my time is near.”
“No—”
“Hush! Don’t start any foolishness now, not when I’ve decided to depend on you. Be strong. You are to rule in my final days, leaving me free to be as idle as I wish. Fauvina ruled at my side in the early part of my reign. She had a mind much like yours, tough and quick, resourceful and clever. She aided me much when we were forging the empire. You will aid me now in preserving it.”
For a moment he looked into the distance, very much lost in his thoughts.
Elandra dropped her ruined handkerchief on the ground and drew in several deep breaths. To rule ... to sit at council and make decisions ... excitement burst inside her, then she swiftly quelled it, afraid to believe it could be true. It was a monumental responsibility. No one had prepared her for this. Even the Penestricians, with their visions, had not foreseen such a turning. They had taught her to please, had taught her to be patient, had advised her to bear children quickly in order to secure her influence. She had realized months ago that the Penestricians—for all their wisdom— had no real understanding of what went on in the palace or how the mind of the emperor worked. How could they, when they had been banished from Imperia for centuries?
But to rule as empress ... what would her father say? Would he be proud, or would he be horrified? After all, who would accept