To The Princess Bound by Sara King

feet.  “But mine is still better.”
    “Your posterior is touching my pillow ,” Victory said, aghast.
    “Good thing you let me relieve myself, then, eh?”
    Victory was so furious with his audacity to ignore her commands that all she could do was blurt, “You lived in a village .  How could your bed possibly be better than mine?”
    He slid his head sideways along the headboard to look at her.  “I’m not a midget.”
    She blushed furiously.  “I’m five-one.”
    He gave her a flat look.  “I’m not.”
    Indeed, he was approximately the same size as an aurochs.  “Uh,” she said, embarrassed, “Maybe I can have Kiara arrange something larger.”
    He raised an eyebrow at her, his blue eyes surprised.  “You mean you’re gonna let me sleep in your bed with you?”
    Victory flushed burgundy.  “On the floor, ” she growled.  “Something on the floor. ”
    He sighed and turned to look at the room opposite his toes, seemingly picking through the lavish furnishings and statuary, evaluating them.  “You have a pretty room,” he said.  “I like all the mermaids.”
    Still on the floor, Victory blushed.  Reluctantly, her eyes flickered to the thousands of statues she had collected before her departure to the Academy.  Porcelain, gems, and polished stone glittered back at her from hundreds of different lighted nooks, shelves, and backlit glass displays.  “I was still a child when I left,” she said softly.  “I haven’t had time to redecorate.”
    The Emp gave her a look that said he understood much more than Victory wanted him to.  Victory looked away in shame.  Eventually, he said, “So even Royal Princesses of the Imperium have to eat, don’t they?  Are they going to feed us?”
    Victory realized then that he didn’t speak Imperial.  Grimacing, she said, “Apparently, my father decided that, if I wanted to eat, I would have to leave my room to do it.  He ordered my maids to stop bringing me food the moment they welded you to my waist.”
    Dragomir frowned and jerked his head around from where he had been eying a gold-thread-and-mohair mermaid tapestry.  “Is your father insane?”
    Yes, Victory thought, at the same time she said, “Of course not.  He’s just…”  She hesitated.
    “…a callous brute,” Dragomir finished for her.
    Victory stared at him, stunned that he could be brazen enough to speak harsh words about her father in his own palace.  “Did you just insult the Adjudicator?”
    “From everything I can tell,” Dragomir said, nodding at the chain, “I just stated a fact.”
    Swallowing, she glanced at the door, then said, “When did you realize you were an Emp?”
    Dragomir shrugged.  “Didn’t really realize it.  Mercy’s not like the Imperium.  There were a lot of us before you showed up.”  He gave her a quick sideways look.  “Being an Emp was like having red hair, instead of black or brown.  Like being good at sports, or arithmetic.  Instead of reading books, I was good at reading people.  I could look inside, see what made them tick, and help fix things that had gone wrong.”
    Victory felt her curiosity rising again.  He had information she had wanted her entire life, and it was all so tantalizingly close…  “Do you really see…energy?” she whispered.
    “All around me,” he said.             
    “And mine?” she insisted again.  “You see that, too?”
    “Of course,” he replied, looking a little exhausted.  “I’ve been dealing with it all day.”
    Victory’s curiosity was piqued.  She eyed him and moved a little closer.  Again, she asked, “What do you see?”
    “When?” he asked.  “When I’m just looking at you, or when I’m centered and pushing my consciousness outward?”
    “Uh,” Victory said, “Both?”
    Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and his body relaxed.  He glanced up at the air around her head, then his gaze went to her forehead and moved slowly down her body, stopping