He hissed out a frustrated breath. “Don’t you dare say that when you know it isn’t true. Damocles isn’t fit to rule over an empty field.”

“Fine.” Discordia ripped off the cloak and shoved it into his hands. “You, then. You be the next Archon.”

Xander studied the cloak. His fingers played along the fur collar. She’d have to put it back soon, before she risked damaging it.

“I am not fit to rule any more than Damocles is,” Xander said. “I’m better at hiding than fighting. I’m not a leader. Even my prefect knew that.”

“And what makes you so certain that I am?”

He sighed. “Every time you’ve doubted yourself it’s because you felt obligated to rule the way Father has. Change the damn Empire, Discordia. Make it yours. Make it better.”

“I don’t know how.”

Xander shook out the cloak and placed it once more on her shoulders, hooking the collar into place. “Do you want our people to fear you or love you?”

“Fear me.” She gave her father’s response. The words she had learned since she was in the cradle and the recordings of his voice whispered into her ear of power and conquest. Let them fear you.

Xander’s brief smile was so sad. “Are you so sure?”

Don’t feel. Don’t feel. The chant caught fire in her mind, but it was mere background buzzing, a litany that meant nothing in comparison to the confident, no-nonsense way he buttoned the front of the cloak. As if he considered it to be hers already.

“If you were,” he continued, “you would have sliced that blade across my throat the first time we spoke.” A quick, larger smile. “You wouldn’t have taken my firewolf, much less kept it.”

Discordia didn’t know who she was. With her father, she felt compelled to be someone he would be proud of. It was a child’s fantasy with him, the need to boast of her skills, to prove something to him. Just so she saw that small glint of satisfaction in his eye that came when she had mastered another test, shown herself to be in control. Unbreakable.

But it was a lie. When she was with Xander, Discordia allowed herself to think beyond a cloak, a crown, an empire. She couldn’t forget the face of every person she had ever personally killed. Her brothers, rebels, Evoli, prisoners, soldiers, civilians in the wrong place, the wrong time. People who loved and feared her. Before she allowed herself to know Xander, killing was as routine as sleeping.

Now? It felt wrong to sacrifice so many. To worship a god, the devil who was never sated. But she knew no other path.