But the empire had cared about Onleda, and meant to see her prosper upon Gadir for centuries to come. Thanet had no such future. And so Gordian Goldleaf, charming on the outside, rotten on the inside, had come to oversee its conquering instead. She hated the man, but he trusted her, even lusted after her. She saw the way his eyes lingered. She noticed how he had stopped mentioning his wife whenever they were together. Sinshei had fed those desires in return, always little by little, a smile here, a laugh there, a lingering touch of the hand that could mean nothing and could mean everything.

If Sinshei was to wrest control of Thanet from Imperator Magus, she would need a regent in her pocket. At long last, the docks had brought her method of securing that loyalty.

“A new wave of boats arrived from Gadir this morning,” she said.

Gordian straightened, and he inhaled sharply.

“The Seeds,” he asked. “Are they finally here?”

Her sweet smile grew.

“They are. I have already begun the preparations. You need only commit yourself to the cause, and I can give you the strength and swiftness of our beloved God-Incarnate’s most cherished and faithful paragons.”

A shadow fell across the regent’s face, but there was no denying the excitement in his words, nor the lustful gleam in his eye.

“Are you sure this is wise?” he asked. “I haven’t undergone any of the paragon training. What if I do not survive the change?”

Sinshei dared not react beyond a confident smile. Of course Gordian would reveal his doubts now, months after the plan was set in motion. The wealthy man was used to power being given to him, and never at any cost to himself. Yet the strength, speed, and extended life of a paragon was an overwhelming temptation he could not resist, regardless of the inherent risks. Sinshei slid closer to him, and she burdened him with yet one more temptation to weaken his already soft will.

“I will be there with you each and every step of the way,” she purred. “Your life will be in my hands, ever safe and secure.”

Gordian swallowed down a heavy knot in his throat. His gaze had grown distant. He was imagining things. Power. Strength. Or perhaps, even her?

“Does Magus know?” he asked.

Sinshei shook her head. Conducting the paragon ritual anywhere other than at the capital of Eldrid, and on someone not approved by the ruling masters of the Bloodstone, was highly unorthodox, if not outright blasphemous. Yet they were so far from Gadir, and she had her blood connection to the God-Incarnate. Rules could be bent. Eyes could look the other way. Besides, if things on Thanet went as planned, it didn’t matter what Magus thought. He’d be dead.