"He is chaining you to two women you did not choose," Dayamati said. "I am offering you one who chose you. Not because of politics. Not because of alliances. Because I watched you stand on that dais tonight and look my husband in the eye and not bend, and I have spent twenty years waiting to see someone do that."
Her hand came up. Her fingers touched his jaw — light, deliberate, her thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. Her hand was warm. Steady now. The trembling was gone, burned away by something hotter.
"I am the Second Empress of this Empire," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have power. I have resources. I have the Southern Court, Dravius's loyalty, and the ear of every minister Mandaqini has ever wronged. You need allies, Kaezhlar. You need someone inside the palace who will fight for you. Not because her brother arranged it, not because her mother commands it — but because she wants to."
Her eyes held his. Dark. Unblinking. Bare.
