like killing their fellow soldiers. I felt the situation was touchy enough that I ought to handle it personally. You know what Plinius says— Have you read Plinius?”
She shook her head.
“‘The only strategist is the man on the ground.’ Meaning you must see the situation up close to make good decisions.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“First, recapture the city. Then dispense justice.”
Vitala bit her lip. That meant he was going to stake people. She’d seen staking victims in Riorca. The Kjallans left the impaled bodies up on the stakes for weeks to rot in the sun and serve as a grisly reminder of their power and cruelty.
“Perhaps we should speak of something else,” said Lucien.
Vitala nodded.
“Tell me about your Caturanga career. People you’ve learned from, tournaments you’ve competed in. I want to know how you got to be so gods-cursed good at the game.”
She launched into her cover story, a fabricated tale of a Caturanga-loving father who’d had no sons and taught the game to his eldest daughter, who’d shown so much promise she’d been passed along from one august tutor to another.
“I envy you,” said Lucien. “All that time to study! I’ve never been able to learn the game as well as I’d like.”
Vitala smiled wryly. “The Emperor of Kjall envies a nobody like me?”
“Don’t call yourself a nobody. There are quite a few aristocrats who’ve had every opportunity available to them, yet they didn’t do a gods-cursed thing with their lives. Whereas you had no advantages at all and wound up a Caturanga champion.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides,” he said. “I envy you just for having a father who loves Caturanga. My father, the emperor, thought it a colossal waste of time.”
“It’s not given to us to choose our parents.”
“Nor is it given to parents to choose their sons and daughters, which for me is rather fortunate.” He paused. “Vitala, is there something you want from me?”
She turned to him, perplexed. “Only the honor of playing Caturanga with you.”
“But is there a favor I can do for you? I’d like to help you, Vitala. Depending on what it is you need.” His fingers reached up and pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. Her flesh tingled where he touched her.
Now she understood. He believed her interest in him was pragmatic. She wanted something from him, and he wanted to know what that something was before he committed. For Nasica, it had been the dam. For Vitala, it was . . . well. The true price he would not want to pay.
Was Lucien laying a trap for her? If she named something, he might become offended and send her packing. Or it could be the other way around. If she seemed to want nothing, he might become suspicious and wonder what trickery was involved, what price she might try to exact from him later.
“Sire,” she said. “I don’t want anything from you except . . . except your company. You’ve done so much for me already.”
“What have I done for you?”
“You gave me the Caturanga set.”
His eyes lit. “Right! I’d forgotten about that. I’m glad it pleases you.”
She closed her eyes in relief. Gratitude, apparently, was a safe middle ground, neither arousing his suspicion nor risking his disapproval.
“Vitala.” His eyes were soft and desirous. “You’re very beautiful.” He leaned toward her.
Pox.
He
was
looking for a tryst in the carriage. With the bodyguard sitting right across from them!
But a kiss would be all right—wouldn’t it? She parted her lips slightly.
He took them directly, needing no further encouragement. His mouth was warm and soft, assertive without being rough. So many Kjallans were sloppy kissers, especially younger men. Lucien was only twenty-two, but because he was the emperor, he’d probably been with a hundred women or more. His experience showed.
His hand slipped behind her neck, seeking skin, and she found herself worming deeper into his grasp. Gods, he was delicious.
She shook her head.
“‘The only strategist is the man on the ground.’ Meaning you must see the situation up close to make good decisions.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“First, recapture the city. Then dispense justice.”
Vitala bit her lip. That meant he was going to stake people. She’d seen staking victims in Riorca. The Kjallans left the impaled bodies up on the stakes for weeks to rot in the sun and serve as a grisly reminder of their power and cruelty.
“Perhaps we should speak of something else,” said Lucien.
Vitala nodded.
“Tell me about your Caturanga career. People you’ve learned from, tournaments you’ve competed in. I want to know how you got to be so gods-cursed good at the game.”
She launched into her cover story, a fabricated tale of a Caturanga-loving father who’d had no sons and taught the game to his eldest daughter, who’d shown so much promise she’d been passed along from one august tutor to another.
“I envy you,” said Lucien. “All that time to study! I’ve never been able to learn the game as well as I’d like.”
Vitala smiled wryly. “The Emperor of Kjall envies a nobody like me?”
“Don’t call yourself a nobody. There are quite a few aristocrats who’ve had every opportunity available to them, yet they didn’t do a gods-cursed thing with their lives. Whereas you had no advantages at all and wound up a Caturanga champion.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides,” he said. “I envy you just for having a father who loves Caturanga. My father, the emperor, thought it a colossal waste of time.”
“It’s not given to us to choose our parents.”
“Nor is it given to parents to choose their sons and daughters, which for me is rather fortunate.” He paused. “Vitala, is there something you want from me?”
She turned to him, perplexed. “Only the honor of playing Caturanga with you.”
“But is there a favor I can do for you? I’d like to help you, Vitala. Depending on what it is you need.” His fingers reached up and pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. Her flesh tingled where he touched her.
Now she understood. He believed her interest in him was pragmatic. She wanted something from him, and he wanted to know what that something was before he committed. For Nasica, it had been the dam. For Vitala, it was . . . well. The true price he would not want to pay.
Was Lucien laying a trap for her? If she named something, he might become offended and send her packing. Or it could be the other way around. If she seemed to want nothing, he might become suspicious and wonder what trickery was involved, what price she might try to exact from him later.
“Sire,” she said. “I don’t want anything from you except . . . except your company. You’ve done so much for me already.”
“What have I done for you?”
“You gave me the Caturanga set.”
His eyes lit. “Right! I’d forgotten about that. I’m glad it pleases you.”
She closed her eyes in relief. Gratitude, apparently, was a safe middle ground, neither arousing his suspicion nor risking his disapproval.
“Vitala.” His eyes were soft and desirous. “You’re very beautiful.” He leaned toward her.
Pox.
He
was
looking for a tryst in the carriage. With the bodyguard sitting right across from them!
But a kiss would be all right—wouldn’t it? She parted her lips slightly.
He took them directly, needing no further encouragement. His mouth was warm and soft, assertive without being rough. So many Kjallans were sloppy kissers, especially younger men. Lucien was only twenty-two, but because he was the emperor, he’d probably been with a hundred women or more. His experience showed.
His hand slipped behind her neck, seeking skin, and she found herself worming deeper into his grasp. Gods, he was delicious.
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