But none of it will be real. None of them will want me. My throne, yes. Prestige. A conquest. But not me.

Hector, I have to ask. Do you want to be an emperor? Because I could make you one. You could be my equal in rank, with just as much authority. Tristán still owes me votes on the Quorum. We could ram an edict through—”

“No need,” he says, reaching up to brush my bottom lip with his thumb. “I’m a good leader, but you’re a great ruler. I am strong enough—man enough—to be subject to you.

Well, we'll have no more of such foolishness," I say harshly, to cover the wavering in my voice. "We're getting married, and that's that.

His gaze drops to my lips. "I shouldn't do this--"
"You really should." And I close the distance between us.

His name was Humberto, and now you're just being petty.

My supposed destiny can drown itself in the deepest part of the sea. Along with everyone else's plans for me.