I shook my head. It wasn’t the same. The servants with finger marks burned into their flesh, or Ruven’s guardsman staring in frozen horror as his master pushed a knife through his arm—the Empire didn’t do those things.

“I won’t deny the Serene Empire seeks to gather the reins of Eruvia into its own hands,” I said. “But if you can’t see the difference, you’ve never looked into the faces of your own people.”

Ruven tilted his head. “And why would I? They are common, unworthy. They are tools to be used. We who carry true power within us exist to be their masters.” He extended a hand. “Come to Vaskandar, my lady. You will see.”

I stared at his hand. I’d feel safer grabbing the hot end of a lit torch. Then I looked up at his face.

“Perhaps someday I will visit your country,” I said. “But I hope you will understand my reluctance to do so at the invitation of a man who employed a notorious child smuggler.”

Ruven blinked. Calculations passed through his violet-ringed eyes, and he dropped his hand. “Why, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Orthys.” I couldn’t have been mistaken about the handprint-shaped scar on his man. “He worked for you, did he not?”

“Ah, Orthys.” Ruven flipped a dismissive hand. “He wasn’t mine. We had a few trade transactions, perhaps. But you see, this is one more way we are the same! As the Empire seeks to gather up the mage-marked, so do I.”

A few trade transactions. A long history of trading him children for dream poppies, more like it. I couldn’t keep the repugnance entirely from my voice. “I fear, Prince Ruven, I must disagree. We are nothing alike.”

“Ah.” He sighed. For a moment, genuine hurt might have flickered in his eyes; then it was gone. His hand dropped back to his side. “You wound me, Lady Amalia. I had hoped we could become friends, or perhaps more than friends. But by the look on your face, you think me an enemy.”

“Circumstances may place us in conflict,” I said carefully, “if you make yourself an enemy to the Empire.”

Ruven’s face brightened. “Ah, but friendship and enmity are not mutually exclusive! In Vaskandar, often the Witch Lords have close, deep, lasting friendships with their bitterest enemies. If that is what you wish, my lady, I will aspire to this fine example.”

“Ah …” My hairline prickled with sweat. What in the Hells could I say to that?