You don't look at your mother, for you can feel her questioning gaze upon you. If you're honest with yourself, you don't know why you've given mercy to the tamer when empire laws would suggest otherwise. You know it has something to do with the connection you had with her in the past, but you can't shake the feeling that her time for serving you has only just begun. There's a part of you that hopes, by giving her life when death was surely staring her in the face, she will devote utter loyalty to you.
Yet, your mother questions, "And why is that?"
"Did I not just explain?" you say, though there's a snap in your voice that wasn't meant to be there. You finally meet your mother's eyes, but she doesn't recoil or look affected by your minor outburst. The ever-inscrutable face of the empress stares back at you, and you recall how you hardly know her as your mother so much as a trainer or distant role model. There is no emotional investment. You can't wait to be rid of her. "I'm taking the throne soon," you continue, voice stern. "You have let me make this decision, and I have said my reason. It is a perfectly valid reason, at that. Don't you think she probably worried enough when your goons were keeping her from delivering vital information to you?"
At the mention of the guards, your mother's face falls into something yet still indecipherable, but close to irritation. Disgust. She looks away from you and waves a hand. "Very well," she says, looking back down at the tamer. "You will be guided to a room and await your honor. Remind yourself that you are in the home of the royal family and are still technically under our servitude for the rest of your life, no matter what asinine orders my daughter has given this hour. Regardless of the agreed price you are to be paid, you are not to take it to your advantage as to flee from the land. Rest assured that if you wind up missing, you will be tracked and hunted like an animal, caught, and killed in any way my adversaries see fit."
The empress puts a finger to her lips and you watch her closely. After a moment, she gestures to one of many figures clad in plate armor and dual sheathed swords. "Her quarters," she says, "will be on the top floor. Third room to the right. Lock and guard."
Nodding, the figure approaches the tamer and takes her by the arm. It appears like it would be painful, but you suppose the Knights know better than to harm someone of such importance as to be spared by the empress or heiress. You watch as the figure guides Delphinia out of the room.
"Don't get emotionally attached again," your mother says. The only thing you can do is stare at her in shock.
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