"Your Majesty, I know this empire is far too small for someone of your… particular tastes," Roderick began, trying—and failing—not to sound like he was choking on his own nerves.
He was sweating so much he might as well have just stepped out of a bath, and he couldn't stop squeezing his hand. Saying the wrong thing could get him killed. And saying nothing could get him killed faster.
Had there been even a sliver of true friendship between them, the kind some rulers shared with their most trusted aides—like his father had with the previous emperor—he could have spoken freely.
He could have scolded Kaan. He could have raged about being abandoned without a word, outmaneuvered at every turn. He could have called this madness what it was.
Conquering the world—an ambition so vast, even for him.
