"I must admit, Lady Seera," the Emperor sighed, looking down at her with mock sympathy. "I read the morning papers, but I assumed the merchants were exaggerating. I did not realize you were so... deeply and helplessly entangled."
He leaned back against the golden dragons of his throne, waving his hand in a grand gesture of mercy.
"Very well. I am not a cruel tyrant who would sever such a passionate, devoted bond," the Emperor declared smoothly. "If your heart is so thoroughly captured by this man that you would dare reject an imperial match, then I shall not force the issue. Your rejection is forgiven."
A collective sigh of relief washed over the military faction. Grandpa Marcuset's shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch.
But Heena didn't relax. The Emperor's voice was entirely too accommodating.
"However," the Emperor continued, the amusement completely vanishing from his dark eyes, leaving behind a cold, calculating void.
Heena's heart sank.
