Chapter 6

• Myriella returned to her chambers.
• She was barely breathing, still shaken by the humiliation she had endured.
• “Jenny…”
• She beckoned her maid closer.
• Myriella placed a purse of coins into her hand.
• “Go to the market. Tell them you are there to purchase fabrics for my gowns.”
• Her voice was calm now.
• “And let it be known that the Emperor has released me from my position as his betrothed.”
• Jenny's eyes widened.
• “But, Your Highness—”
• “Make sure people hear it.”
• Myriella's gaze shifted toward the heraldic shield hanging on the wall.
• The raven of House Tar'us spread its black wings across a field of deep crimson, its claws gripping the ancient crown beneath it.
• The symbol had watched over her family for generations.
• The raven. The crown. The red field.
• Blood and power.
• The people of Ravenhelm had always associated the raven with the ancient legends surrounding Talos the Conqueror and Morrigan, the goddess of death and the patroness of the Empire. Whether the old stories were true hardly mattered anymore.
• The Empire believed them.
• And belief was power.
• Soon, suitors would come swarming around her like vultures around fresh prey.
• Every ambitious lord would want the attention of the woman next in line to the throne—especially now, with the Emperor's headaches becoming more frequent.
• She would give them hope.
• And she would use their influence.
• The purse felt heavy and cold in Jenny's hand.
• The girl merely nodded, her eyes wide but understanding. She tucked the purse into the folds of her apron and slipped from the room like a silent shadow.
• Myriella was alone once more.
• But the silence in her chambers felt different now.
• Not oppressive.
• Full of possibility.
• She crossed to the heraldic shield and ran her fingers over the cold, polished metal, tracing the edges of the raven's wings.
• For most of her life, she had thought of that symbol as something almost inevitable. She had been born into the Imperial House. She had been raised to serve it, strengthen it, and one day rule beside Corvo.
• The raven had always represented her duty.
• Perhaps she had been wrong.
• Perhaps it had always represented something else.
• A reminder that her bloodline belonged to her.
• Not to Corvo.
• Not to the Council.
• Not even to the Empire.
• To her.
• Soon.
• Very soon.
• That symbol might mean more than blood and ancestry.
• She heard footsteps stop outside her door. Voices murmured in hushed tones.
• The rumors had already begun to spread, crawling through the palace like a web.
• Released.
• No longer the Emperor's betrothed.
• Those words would draw them like honey drew flies.
• Young lords hungry for power.
• Old counts searching for advantageous matches for their sons.
• Men who would look at her and see a stepping stone.
• And she would let them.
• Let them come, she thought, the corners of her mouth curling into a thin, humorless smile.
• Let them bring gifts.
• Let them make speeches.
• Let them make promises.
• Every visit would be another thread she could pull.
• Every promise of influence, another weakness she could turn against someone else.
• And behind it all would linger the same two shadows:
• the Emperor, clutching his head as pain tore through his mind,
• and the woman who now occupied his chambers.
• Myriella turned away from the shield.
• The air still carried the familiar scents of wax and old books, but something new had joined them now.
• Something sharp.
• Metallic.
• The scent of a game about to begin.
• Myriella slowly exhaled.
• The first move had been made.
• Now she only had to wait and see who would answer.
• She sat before her mirror and began brushing her long black hair.
• She had never been naive.
• She knew what the greatest advantage of a woman of her birth truly was.
• She had simply spent her entire life believing that hers had already been played.
• Corvo thought she had been meekly accepting her fate when she asked him to dissolve their betrothal.
• He was wrong.
• She had just reclaimed her greatest card.
• Myriella bit her lip until she tasted blood and looked at her pale reflection in the mirror.
• Ankreta could walk around half-dressed and drape herself over Corvo in full view of the court.
• That was the power of a common-born woman.
• She could disregard every rule because she had never been bound by them.
• Myriella's power was something else entirely.
• It was in her blood.
• In her name.
• In the doors that opened at the sound of it.
• In the people who owed favors to her family.
• In the old alliances that had survived emperors, wars, and changing councils.
• And she knew the nobility understood that just as well as she did.
• The raven on the shield seemed to watch her from across the room.
• Black wings against crimson.
• For the first time, Myriella did not see a symbol of the life she had been promised.
• She saw a weapon.
• She would not beg for what had been taken from her.
• She would not wait for Corvo to change his mind.
• If the court wanted a game, she would give them one.
• And she intended to win.