The Emperor's Spire was a palace in a league of its own, with each floor dedicated to its own purpose.

The lower steps were a gathering place for tradesfolk and wealthier merchants. From there, the marble steps led to the legal courts, which had originally been a gallery of war accomplishments until Lyana's rule.

Above there were government offices and passageways and pedways to adjacent structures, most of which either housed the workers of the spire, or the services and infrastructure that nobody wanted to look at.

There were the kitchens near the peak, where the smells of the food would carry themselves upwards and away from the rest of the spire. That was in part, I think, influenced by vanity. It was difficult for some to avoid the temptation if they could smell it all the time. There were a few suites located above it, attracting nobility who wanted the view. Or the smell. But they were a more select few.

Beneath the kitchens lay the royal court. Those rooms, adjacent to the throne room, were where I slept and spent most of my time. My home was a single room underneath the stoves of the kitchens. It was the third location in the spire. My first was as a child, when my services were first sold to Lyana, and I was stationed in the training grounds near the base. After she took a more specific interest in me, I found myself moved to a larger room with too many cupboards, dressers, and seating.

It took time, but when I felt more comfortable speaking to the empress, I asked her to move me to a hideaway storage space I had found, somewhere out of the way.

"Let me pick somewhere better for you than this," she said, staring around the dim corner with a look of aghast. "You'll freeze in the winter and boil in the summer. That window over there doesn't deserve the name, it's too thin and disturbingly tall. And you'll be cramped beyond belief."

I shook my head. "I don't need much."

She gave me a look halfway between pride and disappointment, as though she couldn't decide which one she wanted to feel. "Xera."

"Thank you, Empress."

And it was. Freezing in the winter. Boiling in the summer. Exactly what she predicted. And it was perfect. I rarely spent much time in there to begin with, and it was well-suited to my wants. I didn't want to show off my income or buy fifteen armour sets. I bought weapons, but in modest amounts. If I broke one, as was common with Kindred, I replaced it. I kept a small armoury of what I trained with. A spear, sword, axe, daggers, staff, flail, and logically, a training hammer. It was all to make sure I could use anything I could essentially use anything at my disposal as a weapon, from a broom to a rope, or even a plate.

How long had it been, I wondered, since I had to do that?

Well, how long had it been since I'd fought at all? That ambush had warmed my joints for the first time in a very, very long time. It didn't sit well with me anymore. My muscles fell back into dealing out death far too comfortably.

But by the stars, did it feel right. The splatter of blood, the satisfying crunch of armour and ribs. Bodies launched back as I struck them like a game of whack-a-mole.

It was like I was back with Lyana again. Not travelling for politics, but for war. She was never very fond of war, but when it happened, it happened.

And it happened. Again and again. That was Senvia for you. Every year, a new separation state. Every year, a new province conquered. Often the same ones, cycling. What was left that bordered the empire? Elann? The impenetrable gates under a mountain. Refiriem? The endless grass sea that consumed entire armies, never to be heard from again. The westfjords, too far away to be profitable, and on the other side of Alvenor too. Cinia, the tiny country hidden in the mountains? Senvia in all its might wouldn't have stood a chance.

I hate war. I always have. Even as I sat there in that wagon, my bones relishing the memory of blood, my mind revolted against it.

This is not what I am, I told myself.

This is not what I want to be.

This was never what I was meant to be.

Still, Lyana took me with her in the conquests. She didn't need a guard, not really. She was just a human, and I was never able to lay a finger on her unless she wanted it. A scythe in a field full of briars. I could look up to her as a god, if I believed in deities.

So why did she take me with her?

Was it her fault that my bones craved blood? Or her fault that I hated my longing for it?

It didn't really matter. I'd never resent her for it. It was my joy just to be there with her, to watch her rule, to witness her prove herself again and again to people who demanded it.

She wasn't the first woman to sit on the throne, but that didn't change their thoughts on the matter. She wasn't even Kindred, they kept muttering, as if that make a difference to someone in government.

As if that made a difference to her in battle.

Flawless, I remembered. Absolutely fl—

"Xera," said Eskir, jolting me back to reality.

I shook myself back to awareness. The wagon bumped against a pothole in the roadway. 

"You've been talking to yourself."

My face turned beet red. "If you tell anyone, I'll break your kneecaps."

He perked an eyebrow, chuckled, and pulled a thick straw hat over his head. "My lips are sealed," he laughed. "After all, I apparently know how to keep a secret."