Ashes of Man (Sun Eater, #5)

by Christopher Ruocchio

I looked up. The Emperor was looking down at me, his eyes very wide. I tried to read his face, but I saw too many emotions, each standing in the place of the other, each vying to come forth. I knew what I had done, and knew also what I had to do—what was expected of me. The eyes of the court were on me, of the Martians and of Jadd. The eyes of the Emperor were on me, also. I was already on my knees. I had only to bow and submit myself to the will and rule of the Emperor, to reassure His Radiance and all that the natural order of the world would be upheld. I was already kneeling . . . But I would not bow. I shook my head instead. “She would be alive,” I said, heedless of all consequence. “If you had but listened to me.” The Emperor’s mask faltered, and William peered out. Was that awe in those emerald eyes? Was that triumph . . . or fear? The Halfmortal could no longer be mocked as rumor, no longer dismissed as legend. The Emperor had known before that moment, but he had seen me then with his own two eyes.