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the Empire, she had also betrayed it when she conceived a child with Galan–even if that great farce had ended well for the Emperor. Shamed by the bitter thought and her awkward, blurted, unconcealed lie, she struggled to understand the impulse that had led her to speak.
    She could not look at him. The air surrounding his body changed. Its effect on her changed. The addictive sparks he transmitted to her ceased altogether. She no longer felt anything from him and Raeche grieved for the loss of it.
    “I do not love you, Raeche, but I would not betray you.”
    Her eyes grew wetter. Tears fell and Raeche did not want him to see them. No one loved her. She knew this. No one ever had. Yet his words cracked her open. She broke. Standing to leave, she felt a warm hand on her bare calf beneath her simple green dress.
    The rush of heat over her skin and pain in her heart was a shock to her system. Raeche wanted to fall before him but did not.
    “Why do you do these things?”
    “What things?” Her voice faltered.
    “Why do you provoke me?”
    Raeche could say nothing. Her cheeks were hot. Servants looked on, and even Rucha had turned in her seat to watch when Eynow scratched her arm and pointed.
    “There was no reason, no reason at all for you to say that.”
    Raeche feared she was beyond reason. For cycles, she had been provoking him–saying things she should not, interrupting him as he conducted the business of the Empire, and declining his invitations only to show up on a whim, curious how he acquitted himself without her.
    Raeche pulled away from her husband’s grasp and discovered a stronger sense of loss than she had ever felt for Galan. She ran, without shoes, back into the palace.
    By the time Dark came, Raeche had starved her vulnerability and bolstered her confidence with counterfeit indignation. She stomped into the Emperor’s apartments as he readied himself for bed and complained about Taritana’s overreaching Spirit. When that did not work, she bemoaned Eynow’s weak character and demanded that he be rejected as Rucha’s betrothed. Without response, she hurled an accusation that Eynow spoiled Rucha and had made it so that his daughter would never accept her husband as her equal.
    Lanus merely let out a soft chuckle.
    She stalked toward him, forcing him to look at her in her sheer black gown that clung to her, emphasizing her naked flesh beneath. When his expression channeled the Spirit of Patience, she reached for those hot sparks, which had become pure addiction to her, but found nothing save tepid air.
    Her husband infuriated her.
    The following day, she replaced his favorite sword, favorite arrows and favored armor with instruments of poor quality, disguised with Spirit. But she cried when he left for the South with his small war party. She did not want him to die. She used what Spirit she commanded to send him what he needed. The effort sucked her deep into blackness, and she had to be treated by the best Spirit Wielders. As they sent her into a healing sleep, Raeche apologized to the Spirit for her failures. For her irrational behavior. She begged the Spirit to keep her from dreams.
     

 

 
    Chapter 8
     
    Raeche was blessed with empty sleep until one morning when her body grew warm and tingled with excitement. The Emperor had returned. She rolled her spine, moaning. Then she reached up and wrapped her legs around her husband. Their tongues touched and she slid her body against his. Her womb clenched painfully as she awaited him. When she woke, she remembered that it had been three rings since she had been touched by a man. Tears fell because the only man she knew was her husband and she had become infatuated with him. Who would not? He was handsome, strong, cold but hot, brave and so smart. He was loved by his daughter so intensely and the very few times he laughed, he made her laugh, too. Women sighed when he strode through the halls or rode out into the courtyard on his mount, even when he looked