The Emperor's Edge

The Emperor's Edge Ch. 3 Pt. 1

As soon as he entered his suite, Sespian Savarsin, emperor of the most powerful nation in the world, slapped himself on the forehead.

“Babbling idiot.” He paced the rug in the antechamber. “She thinks I’m a babbling idiot.”

A soft thud came from the bedroom, and an elegant tan-colored cat with a deep brown mask and paws padded into the anteroom. He hopped onto a desk abutting the window.

Too agitated to give the cat his usual pats, Sespian continued pacing. “The most serene, competent, beautiful girl—no, woman—I’ve met shows up in my hall, and I babble.” He pushed his hand through his hair hard enough to dislodge several strands. “And then I let Hollowcrest chase me off like a five-year-old child told to go to bed without supper. Although maybe I should thank him. He probably saved me from further embarrassing myself.” Sespian faced the cat. “It was bad, Trog. Very bad.”

Trog sat on the desk and swished his tail back and forth. A cobweb hung from his ear. Not surprising. His name was short for troglodyte, a label received due to a penchant for exploring dusty old ducts and passages in the Barracks. The swishing tail sent a sketch fluttering to the rug. Trog had no respect for artistic endeavors, but at least he listened.

“You should have seen her,” Sespian said. “She was so unflappable but not arrogant, not at all. An enforcer. Not some stodgy matron devoted to holding up the values of the warrior caste and not some manipulative businesswoman intent on selling you something. Someone who looks out for people. What a wonderful friend and ally she would make. Maybe more.” He smiled wistfully. “I made her uncomfortable though. Because I’m the emperor. Stupid social rules. I wonder what it would have been like if I were just some man off the street. What would she have said? Do you think I’m her type?”

Trog yawned and flopped down on his side, tail twitching.

Sespian raised an eyebrow. “It’s as if you’re trying to tell me that my piddling romantic ramblings, while of vast interest to me, are inconsequential to anyone else.” He sat in the chair in front of the desk and ran his fingers through Trog’s thick fur. “You’re probably right.”

Trog purred and stretched his legs out. He always liked being told he was right.

As Sespian stroked the cat, he gazed out the window, where falling snow blanketed the grounds. Amaranthe had been a delightful distraction, but with the event fading, his headache returned. Sespian sighed and tried to ignore it.

“I shouldn’t let him push me around anymore.”

Trog rotated an ear.

“Hollowcrest. When Father died, I had so many ideas. But after three years with Hollowcrest as regent... I guess I got used to following his orders.” Sespian grimaced. “And so did everyone else. I need to change that. I’m in charge now, and I need to be someone who can lead an empire—and maybe be someone Amaranthe would like, eh?”

A knock sounded.

“Come in,” Sespian called.

The familiar scent of apple herb tea accompanied the servant, Jeddah, into the suite. Steam rose from a porcelain cup on a silver platter. The man set the tray down on an ottoman.

“Thank you, Jeddah,” Sespian said.

The man bowed and walked out.

When Sespian stood, his headache intensified. He winced. The pain came every day now, a constant and loathed companion.

At least the tea seemed to help. It had been his mother’s favorite. More than a decade had passed since she died, but he still missed her. Father, the great warrior emperor, had been an obstacle to overcome—or avoid—but Mother had loved him and never failed to support him. Every night, when he drank the tea, he felt close to her, as if he were honoring her memory.

Sespian picked up the cup. He inhaled deeply, the pleasant blend of herbs tickling his nose. Not so sweet as spiced cider, it warmed and soothed as it flowed down his throat.

He soon finished the cup.