Then she took the coin.
"I'll make it properly," she said.
"I assumed you would."
She narrowed her eyes. "Don't deliver it poorly; you have to make it yourself."
Goliath said nothing.
"I can show you."
Goliath's brows lifted slightly.
Amara immediately regretted speaking to an emperor like she was scolding a gardener.
But Goliath only looked at the crown in her hands, then at the flowers climbing the columns.
"Can you?"
Amara nodded.
Goliath held out one hand, palm upward, not touching the crown, waiting for her to reach first.
So Amara stepped closer and placed a loose stem across his palm.
"First," she said, still suspicious but no longer afraid, "you have to be gentle with flowers."
Goliath looked down at the flower in his hand.
Then at her.
"Already difficult."
Amara sighed with the grave disappointment of a child faced with adult incompetence.
Goliath's mouth curved again.
