Chapter 31
The bath had been a cleansing affair in all ways. Nina felt sturdier after it, more confident as she selected a pretty blue
gown from the chest in her room and slipped it over her head. The golden stitching along the edges sparkled in the firelight.
It cinched at the waist and fell to the floor with a flourish. It was the most luxurious thing she had ever worn. Sacha would
have loved it.
It was her sister’s face she kept in mind as she dressed and plaited her hair. The room was smaller than she had anticipated,
but it seemed as though the whole kancha was composed of many small rooms down many long hallways that were meant to confuse.
And there were small bits of gold everywhere she looked. In the handle of the brush she had used to tame her hair. Carved
into the wooden beams of her bed. On the table next to it in the shape of a narrow circle. She absentmindedly rubbed the golden
circlet around her wrist. The one on the table was similar, and clearly meant for her to wear, but she had felt the chill
of the achilla at the center before she had even touched it and decided against it.
And then she waited, and while she did, she allowed her thoughts to wander.
The tapestry came to mind, the colors bright and burned into her mind. The way the golden threads connected them all, and
how Yuri’s hands had been devoured by them. The blood that ran beneath her feet was her fault, according to Kasik’s version
of the story. She and the other Ikara had created chaos and devastation and then were hunted down like animals for it.
But she remembered Mika’s version, which had told a different story. One where the Ikara were retribution and salvation.
Kasik was right—perhaps her attay was monstrous—but it was the gods and the men in power who had forced her hand, who had pushed her toward inevitable destruction.
A mutation in the fabric of who she was and could have been.
Had she been left alone, she would have been, at that very moment, in the fields with Sacha and Lali, harvesting their portion
of the chani owed to the emperor. But they had come, and they had collected, and Nina no longer felt responsible for the consequences
of their actions.
Nor her own. Whatever choices she made were forced by the hands of their greed and misguided faith. Even Kasik’s, even if
his touch had been gentle and warm and naively wanted. Nina was aching for comfort, for sympathy. To stop feeling so overwhelmingly
alone, but the only things she allowed herself to feel were grudging acceptance and bleak understanding.
Nina was but one person in the face of their power and cunning, Ikara or not. Her plan to kill the emperor was foolhardy and
brash and enormous, and she would most likely die before succeeding. She only hoped that once she was dead, the gods and their
pawns would finally forget her, and leave her family alone.
When a knock came at the door, Nina was ready. She had steeled herself against seeing Kasik again with the reminder that even
if he had apologized, it didn’t mean she had forgiven him. There was so much he had hidden from her. Whether it was intentional
was none of her business. He was a distraction from her grand plan—the only thing that mattered now.
Killing Emperor Maicu would not happen that night.
It was their first time meeting, and it was meant to occur at an intimate dinner with his most trusted friends.
She assumed Kunay Atik would be there, and Kasik.
She would be forced to sit at the same table as the men who pulled the strings of her fate.
When she finally opened the door, Kasik lowered his hand and raised his gaze to trail over her. She remembered the way his
dark eyes had been alight as he watched her dance underneath the stars in the Tuta Kulla, how his throat had bobbed noticeably
when she stepped closer. How she had felt unencumbered and foolishly brave with his eyes upon her.
He took her in the same way now. As if she had been conjured from his wildest and most desperate dreams.
Nina tore her eyes away and went to step past him, but he stopped her with a gentle hand around her wrist. “Your feet,” he
said, his voice both near and distant, the pulse in his neck fluttering quickly.
Cheeks blazing, she glanced down to see her bare toes peeking out from the hem of her dress. She had forgotten her slippers.
The feel of Kasik’s fingers cradling her wrist lingered even after she slipped on her shoes and followed him out the door,
through hallways that had begun to look familiar.
Until, suddenly, they weren’t.
The light was different in this part of the kancha. It struck the walls in a way that made them look as if they were on fire,
but when she grazed her fingers across the length of one, she found it cool to the touch.
“Gold,” Kasik said from in front of her.
Nina looked at him, and then the wall. “Gold?” she repeated.
“Brushed gold,” he clarified, as if anticipating her next question.
She turned back to the wall. It wasn’t shiny like the empress’s jewelry or the stitching on her hem, rather a dull, deep yellow
that seemed to soak in the light and burn from within. She couldn’t help but press a hand to it, marveling at the sheer beauty
and the time it must have taken to craft this.
It was such a different world here compared to her home near the sea, where their existence was simple and everything was crafted in a way that served a specific purpose.
There was beauty in the simplicity, and she respected it, but she couldn’t help consider how she might not have ever gotten to see the golden buildings of Amaru if she hadn’t been brought there.
Even if it was against her will.
Not for the first time, she thought about just how far out of her depth she was, in all ways. How much easier it might be
to accept her fate, marry the emperor, and live her life in luxury. This didn’t have to be a fight that she fought. Murdering
the emperor wasn’t the only solution. In fact, it was possible it was the worst option, and the farther away she was from Shayim and her people, the more absurd it seemed.
Nina was not a savior, but she was afraid to find out who she would become without her anger, without her resolve, without
her hopes and plans for her own future.
The long hallway came to a sudden end at a set of tall double doors, a large torch on either side washing the stone walls
in a burnt-orange glow. Behind her, the spaces between the torches crawled with whispering darkness, yet she was tempted to
slink toward it and away from what lay beyond and made her heart skitter with apprehension.
“It’s just dinner,” Kasik whispered. She wasn’t sure who he was encouraging, but she inhaled deeply and straightened her shoulders
all the same.
They stood side by side, much like they had when observing that tapestry. On the other side of those doors was a different
kind of story unfolding, one that she was determined to narrate.
“I’m ready,” she whispered back. Kasik’s hand rested upon the latch for two heartbeats and then he pushed the doors open with
a flourish.
The soft murmur of conversation filling the room just seconds earlier disappeared, and all attention turned toward Nina.
In the center of the small room sat a wooden table, where people dressed in varying shades of red turned to her. The torchlight
cast them in shifting shadows so that all she could see were glowing eyes set within unfamiliar faces. Even through the eerie
dimness, she could recognize one figure.
Kunay Atik sat at the corner of the table farthest from the door. He smiled at her, and though there was a table full of people
between them, it felt as though he were right next to her, breathing down her neck. Peering into her soul.
“Come closer,” someone said, and she tore her eyes away from Atik to look at the man next to him, who beckoned her forward
with fingers long and lean and glittering with gold.
In her head, Nina had created this image of a man who was larger than life, someone who could crush her beneath his thumb,
but Emperor Maicu was young, perhaps no older than Kasik, and soft in a way that spoke of a lack of hard labor. His long black
hair shone in the firelight, and his golden eyes tracked her every move, down to the slightest shift of her shoulders with
each breath.
It was clear that he was a man used to getting what he wanted, which at that moment was her. All she could do under the scrutiny
was comply with his demands, walking swiftly toward the head of the table with every pair of eyes in the room watching her.
Nina knew they were expecting to see her cower or cry or flee with her tail between her legs. But she would not show fear
in this den of predators. Let them believe her an animal well trained and honored to be in their presence.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kasik walking opposite her, their steps in sync, their footfalls heavy with obligation. He stopped at the empty seat next to his tayta. A clear sign of their position, of the strength of their relationship to each other and to the emperor.
The emperor is my friend.
Perhaps he hadn’t lied to her all along, and she had only been lying to herself.
The emperor turned in his seat to anticipate Nina’s approach. He was handsome—there was no denying that. He wore a sleeveless,
bloodred tunic that exposed arms corded with muscle, his hair, dark as night, cascading around his shoulders and down his
back. Sitting on his head was a gold circlet wrapped with colorful feathers, a large black stone set in the middle. The achilla
was similar to the one that hung around Kasik’s neck, but glossier, the surface polished to an impressive shine.
Nina traced each detail until she was standing before him and could no longer ignore his eyes. They were bright, alive. Warm
honey that coalesced and beckoned. The way he sat, leaned back in his chair as if she was putting on a show, muddled her thoughts
and made it so she barely remembered to bow. The fingers of his left hand tapped the table, not with impatience, but to a
beat she could not hear.
Up close, she saw that his hands were soft. No calluses, no scars. When they touched her, they wouldn’t scrape her skin, not
as Kasik’s had. And Emperor Maicu’s eyes didn’t leave a path of wanting in their wake, only alarm.
This was the most powerful man in the empire. The man who had taken up the legacy of his tayta’s dream of a united Tawantinsuyu.
The man who had stolen children from their families and murdered his brother in cold blood, and there he was, smiling at her
as if she was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.
Creases formed at the corners of those dancing eyes.
A light dusting of facial hair covered his jaw, and Nina, realizing that she had begun to inspect his features again, dropped her face toward the ground.
Whatever bravado she had fed herself before entering the room fled under his amused scrutiny.
Emperor Maicu chuckled, a quiet, private laugh meant only for her. “I hope everything has been to your liking,” he said as
he stood, putting himself directly in front of her. He was tall, his chest at eye level, and Nina swallowed as he took one
small step closer. She was all too aware of their audience, of the pregnant silence surrounding them, of the way his movements
were slow and deliberate as if to soothe her nerves. He pinched her chin between two fingers and guided her eyes to his.
Nina peered at him through lowered lashes. “Thank you for this gift,” she said. Let him think her overflowing with gratitude.
Let him think her weak and overwhelmed with fear. His eyes dipped to her mouth as she spoke. “What an honor to be chosen.”
The pressure of his thumb dug into her chin. Nina was right; the hands that cradled her future were soft and supple, and she
knew he was more dangerous than the most hardened of walla because of it. She would not allow herself to forget.