Although her marriage to Vespasian had been arranged by thePon Q’tar, Persephone had been smitten at first sight. To her initial dismay, the same had not been true of her intended; but with time, he had come to return her love. The only shadow over their marriage was her failure to produce an heir. Repeated physical examinations of the empress by thePon Q’tar clerics had produced no answers. Even their cleverly concocted fertility potions and specially designed enchantments had not helped her to conceive.

Persephone knew that she had been chosen only because of the unusually high quality of her blood. ThePon Q’tar had searched long and hard for a young girl of such highly endowed blood. Persephone had been forcibly taken from her parents at the age of three and, like Vespasian, had been raised and trained by thePon Q’tar clerics. Her instruction in the arts of magic, politics, and war had rivaled Vespasian’s in every way-but her specialty was palace intrigue, and some confidants dared to whisper that no one outshone her in that area, not even her husband.

She smiled as she regarded Vespasian beside her. He looked splendid in his dress uniform. Dark blue leather armor adorned with elaborate silver filigree covered a shiny black tunic. He wore dark blue filigreed leather greaves and gauntlets and black sandals. His purple and gold cape was attached to his armor at each shoulder, and a golden dress sword in a filigreed scabbard hung at one hip. In celebration of the games, the traditional crown of laurel leaves fashioned from solid gold sat atop his blond curls.

As she regarded him, Vespasian turned to look at his wife. His dark blue eyes met her light blue ones, and he reached to stroke a strand of her long blond hair. She was wearing a gown of vibrant red silk. Golden snakes wound around her upper arms, and matching earrings hung from her lobes. She looked radiant. Leaning closer, Vespasian gave her a conspiratorial smile.