Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Aurelia
T he hall of entertainments in the Delphinian royal palace isn’t quite as large as the one back in Vivencia, but it contains a much more intriguing assortment of activities.
The typical cards tables are relegated to one corner, where one of the Cotean nobles is demonstrating a game involving a deck that can swap suits between cards. Members of the Darium court clamor to toss blunt darts at an odd board that bounces them back to the thrower.
Another table is set up with a game that looks like a miniature version of croquet. Nearby, with raised eyebrows, Raul is prodding a mobile statue that swings its plaster sword as if in combat. And Lorenzo appears transfixed by the stage where our court musicians have joined the Cotean royal family’s.
The small platform has been enchanted to set off glimmers of illusionary imagery to match the melodies played on it. When I glance over, a sparkling rabbit bounds through the air around the musicians before leaping higher to transform into a soaring bird.
Even the enhanced artwork on the ceiling overhead has tricks I haven’t seen anywhere else. One painted woman waves directly at me when I look at her; a scampering boy is romping from scene to scene rather than sticking to his own.
I follow his course as I drift through the room, as if I’m mostly interested in tracking his movements and not bringing myself closer to the king and queen poised near the wall.
I come to a stop next to them as if by chance and offer a careful but warm smile. “I’m impressed by the variety of entertainments you’ve managed to assemble.”
King Stanislas dips his head in acknowledgment, but the compliment doesn’t earn me more than the thinnest of smiles in return. “We add to our collection as we come across new amusements and techniques. Our neighbors across the channel have fewer qualms about sharing their means of play.”
Compared to their means of combat. My smile turns a bit wry. “I suppose that’s understandable. I hope you’re both feeling perfectly well this morning?”
Just last night, I had to watch him and his wife as well as Bastien and his brother turn sallow and shake with the initial effects of an asp bite. The antidote I brewed appeared to bring them back to rights within a matter of minutes, but I’ve never dealt with snake venom before. There could have been lingering effects I wasn’t prepared for.
The king’s expression tenses slightly. Before he has to answer, Queen Odile offers me a soft smile of her own. “Quite as we should be, thank you. Your gift is truly impressive, Your Imperial Highness.”
I grope for the right words to say to convey how much I hated what my husband did to them… without actually saying that out loud. “I hope that if you should have need of it again, it will be in more pleasant circumstances.”
King Stanislas’s attention fixes on me again with additional intensity. I can feel an echo of Bastien’s penetrating gaze in his matching dark green eyes. “We’ve seen many ways gifts can be adapted to produce effects other than those originally intended. Have you ever tried to put yours to uses beyond the medicinal?”
I can’t confess the many ways I’ve stretched Elox’s blessing beyond using it to cure, but even the toxins I’ve brewed have technically been medicinal. I pause, trying to think of how I might concoct something other than a potion or salve. “I have to admit it hadn’t occurred to me to try.”
The king hums thoughtfully—and I think with a hint of disapproval. He’d respect me more if I’d stretched my talents farther of my own accord.
I don’t want him writing me off over one failure of imagination. “It is important to me to offer my skills in every way I can. If there’s anything in particular you were hoping I might be able to ‘heal’ metaphorically, I’d love to try.”
King Stanislas gives a slight shake of his head. “We certainly wouldn’t expect you to strain your gift on our behalf, Your Imperial Highness.”
Before I can say that it wouldn’t be a strain at all, one of the palace staff approaches the king and queen with a harried expression. It feels more imposing to stay there listening in on their hushed conversation than to give them space, however little I’ve succeeded in my own goals.
We’ll be here in Delphine for at least a couple of weeks. I’ll have more chances—and I’ll have Bastien speaking on my behalf with his family.
As I drift toward another unfamiliar games table where metal pins jut from the polished top at seemingly random intervals, one of the Cotean courtiers ambles over to join me. He studies the game as if admiring it before shooting a sideways glance toward me. “Your Imperial Highness appreciates all the finer things in life, I’m sure.”
What kind of answer is he looking for? I settle for a careful, “I appreciate a great many things about your country.”
“And we have so many things to appreciate.” His voice drops a bit lower. “I oversee some of the finest fabric production in the kingdom. If our empress feels she needs more than the current trade agreements cover, I would be more than happy to make additional arrangements.”
Ah. This is exactly the sort of overture Bastien mentioned to me yesterday. The courtier is attempting to curry favor separate from his rulers’ decrees.
And he decided to approach me rather than Marclinus. A tingle of satisfaction passes through me despite the adjoining twinge of discomfort.
Someone here recognizes that I have power. And they want me to put it to use undermining the royals I’m hoping to turn into allies.
I waver between the conflicting urges to shut down his treacherous ambitions and to cultivate his faith in me. I suppose it’ll be easier to accomplish the former once I have more of the latter.
I beam at him graciously. “Your generosity is noted. I’ll remember who I should speak to should I have a need.”
The nobleman walks off with a preening air that leaves me feeling vaguely nauseous.
A moment later, Bianca glides over at my other side. “Already making new friends, I see,” she murmurs.
I can’t contain a dry laugh. “I’m not sure that’s the right word for it.”
“At least His Imperial Majesty is sharing the imperial fawning a little.” She glances toward the other end of the room.
My husband has a few different courtiers hovering around him, one squeezing into the cluster to interject some comment before another elbows closer again. The bunch of them look like a pack of hungry dogs jostling for the food their keeper will dole out as it pleases him.
Raul has sidled closer to the group, his head slightly cocked as the various noblemen split off into separate discussions and then rejoin the larger mass. When he notices me watching, he indicates a woman at the emperor’s left with a subtle gesture of warning. Talked badly about you.
That Cotean noblewoman has been disparaging me when she thinks I won’t find out, has she? I’ll happily find the right moment to deal with that sort of treachery.
I tug my gaze back to Bianca. “After yesterday, I’m fine with a little less attention on me. Loyalties are confirmed—now we should simply be enjoying ourselves.”
“Indeed.” The vicerine gives a satisfied sounding sigh. “His Imperial Majesty does seem quite pleased with your performance yesterday. His temper may be short this morning, but I’ve overheard nothing but kindly remarks when it comes to you.”
He’s out of temper? I’ve had little chance to speak to my husband since waking, as we presided over the breakfast table from opposite ends in the Cotean style, but I assumed I’d be dealing with Marc today after Linus’s presence yesterday. Nothing about his behavior—friendly and quick-witted with his court, but with a controlled sort of energy—has suggested otherwise. The attention he’s currently giving the courtiers around him looks keen rather than manic.
“Has he seemed irritated?” I ask.
Bianca offers a subtle shrug. “He was curter than usual with a couple of the barons just after breakfast. I can’t say they didn’t deserve it, but he isn’t always so provoked. And he was rather sharp when ordering around the servants in my hearing. So I suppose we must all be on our best behavior with him today.”
She rests her hand on my forearm for a moment, and I understand. I asked her to give me warning of Marclinus’s moods. She’s showing she can come through.
I nod in acknowledgment. “That’s helpful to know. I wouldn’t want to add to any stress he’s under.”
I turn more toward Bianca, giving her a closer look. “How have you been faring with all our travels? Are you still glad to have come along?”
“It’s certainly been more exciting than puttering around at home. And it’s quite fulfilling to be of service to you.” Her gaze slides over the room, and her face brightens. “Do you think we should give one of these unusual games a go? They look quite intriguing. My father used to fiddle with bits and pieces trying to create new diversions for us and our guests, but I can’t say any of his attempts turned out so well. He’d have loved this place.”
I’m about to take her up on her suggestion when Viceroy Ennius swoops in. He tucks his hand around his wife’s elbow with a grip that mars her smooth skin and sets my teeth on edge.
“Come along, darling,” he says in a hard voice that shows no affection I can hear. “I’m sure Her Imperial Highness has better things to do than listen to your chatter, and I need a partner at the cards table.”
I open my mouth to tell him I have a more pressing need of Bianca’s company, but she cuts me off with a hasty motion of her hand. “Of course, my dear. Thank you for indulging me, Your Imperial Highness.”
As I watch him escort her off, I will my hands not to clench. Was he bothered that she might be earning my favor as well as the emperor’s, or did he simply feel it’d been too long since he pushed her around?
The memory of the day I found her wounded from his harsh attentions comes back to me with searing revulsion.
When I have real power, no woman in this empire should have to endure a marriage like that just to be secure in their station.
Which means I need to attend to my own marriage, as short-lived as it may be if I have my way.
I consider Marc—or is it Linus?—again from across the room. His grin does tighten for a moment before he laughs at one of the courtier’s jokes. But when he catches my gaze, his expression softens with what I’d almost take for genuine fondness.
All right, that’s definitely Marc. What’s bothering the usually even-tempered twin today?
King Stanislas’s subtle chiding about how I’ve used my gift—or not—is still wriggling through my brain. My magical talent seems as good a place to start my inquiries as any.
I focus on my husband, letting the rest of my concerns float away beyond the question of how I might cure whatever ails him.
The answer that arrives is startlingly simple: the images swim up of a few ingredients I know from past experience combine to make a particularly effective remedy for a headache. I already have a mixture of them ready for use.
Is that all that’s bothering our emperor? I can see how a pained head could make even so elevated a figure cranky.
And now I have another chance to weave myself into his good graces.
I amble over to his cluster of fawners. Seeing me coming, Marc steps forward to part them. He takes my hand. “How are you feeling this morning, my lovely wife?”
I twine my fingers with his as if I appreciate his gesture of affection. “Quite well. But there was something I hoped to discuss with you—of a more private nature.”
“I won’t neglect you when you’re in need.” He glances at the courtiers who’ve fallen silent. “I look forward to speaking with you further on many of these matters later in our stay.”
As we slip out into the hall, Marc releases my hand to rest his on the small of my back. “Is something troubling you?”
The hint of hesitation in his voice suggests he knows exactly what’s most likely to be troubling me, but it isn’t something he’d want to bring up in possible hearing of the palace staff or the guards trailing behind him.
I smile up at him with a brief caress of his jaw. “Only that I’ve failed to offer you something of much benefit. Come with me to my rooms, and we’ll see to it quickly enough.”
I’m not sure if he imagines some more salacious meaning to my words, but as soon as we’ve entered my chambers, I go straight to my trunk that holds my tea box. “You’ve been plagued by a headache. I have a powder that mixed with a little water will ease the pain in a matter of minutes.”
Marc lets out a bark of a laugh. “So this is all for my benefit. How did you know?”
I retrieve the packet of powder from the lower layer of the box and pour a glass of water from the carafe on my side table. “You seemed a tad distracted. My gift can work for diagnostic purposes too, as I believe you’ve witnessed before. By knowing the cure, it can be easy to recognize the ailment.”
I think Bianca will forgive me for not giving her credit in recognizing his shift in mood before I did.
Marc accepts the glass without protest and downs it in a few quick gulps. He trusts me at least enough that he doesn’t request a taster to sample it first. Or perhaps he simply realizes I’m not so stupid that I’d poison him in my bed chamber when at least four imperial guards know we’ve gone in here alone.
After he sets down the glass, he rubs his brow. “It’s something about the air in certain places. Too dry, perhaps? It sets off the pain from time to time, but it’s not so bad I can’t tolerate it.”
“Better if you don’t have to tolerate it at all.” The corner of my mouth quirks upward at a wry angle. “Perhaps you should have joined me for the trip to the bog yesterday. Plenty of moisture in the air there.”
I mean it as a joke. I know sending me off to the swamp wasn’t Marc’s idea. But something shifts in his gaze, his gray eyes darkening alongside a flex of his jaw.
He moves to me, lifting his fingers to stroke them carefully over my upswept hair. His other hand comes to rest on the small swell of my belly. “Here you are curing me of my minor ills when I should be pampering you . That idiot, sending you off to trudge through the fucking marshlands like a desperate peasant…”
I suspect Linus didn’t even mention to him the part about dismissing my guards. But Marc likes me stoic and strong, not whining about my mistreatments.
I force myself to step closer, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I made it back with no ill effects.” We won’t get into the near-drowning or how Bastien saved me.
Marc lets out a derisive sound and guides me over to the room’s small sofa. As we sit, he tucks me against him with his arm around my waist. His embrace feels more like a binding chain than a reassuring hug, but I nestle against him as if I welcome the shelter. His smoky amber scent wraps around me in turn.
“I don’t know how to get him to let up on you,” he admits in a taut voice. “I’ve kept arguing on your behalf, kept pointing out all the ways he could be harming our authority and that of our future heir… He simply doesn’t care. The more people he’s terrorized, the happier he is.”
There’s a simple way to cure that problem, I think but don’t say. Get rid of the twin, and you won’t have to share the rule any longer.
But Marc knows that as well as I do. He’s the one who proposed the murder. He’s either still unwilling to carry it out unless I’m as enmeshed in the crime as he is… or he isn’t as upset about his twin’s actions as he claims.
Not yet.
Perhaps reminding him of how much he’s given up for so long will prod him in the right direction.
“Has he always been like this?” I ask. “The wild ideas, the unwillingness to listen to reason?”
“It’s been decidedly worse since we took the throne. I suppose it’s not surprising that being emperor only exacerbated his inclinations.” Marc pauses. “He’s always gone to greater extremes than I have. Even as a boy, he wanted to see how far he could push the rules, push the people … It excited him to discover what he could get away with. He loved bragging about it to me when we’d have our conferences before switching off.”
“And then you had to deal with the people he’d pushed.”
“Yes.” Marc swallows audibly. “We were supposed to be the same person, and he was more… everything. So he set the tone, and I had to match it as well as I could, while fixing any catastrophes he made in his wake.”
I lift an eyebrow. “That hardly seems fair.”
“It worked for a long time. He can be excessively charming and entertaining as well as callous. Perhaps he earned a lot of the loyalty I needed to sort out the problems he caused.”
“Perhaps quite so much loyalty wouldn’t have been needed without the problems.”
Marc gives a rough chuckle. “Father said that was why it was good that there were two of us. Linus could stretch the boundaries and I could moderate him before he went too far. When we were younger, my role felt like the more important one. I liked that my father had so much faith in me.”
The melancholy that’s crept into his voice tugs at my heart despite myself. I draw back so I can see his expression. “And now?”
Marc’s whole expression has tightened. His voice comes out quiet. “Now it feels like nothing so much as a burden.”
He shakes himself and recovers his unnervingly tender smile as he cups the side of my face. “But I can bear that burden until you’re ready for us to shed it together. I know you have your principles… but even Elox would want you to protect yourself.”
And I’m protecting myself from you as well as him.
“I continue to pray on the matter,” I say instead.
“Of course.” Marc strokes his thumb over my cheek, stirring an unwelcome shiver through my nerves. “He’s pushed you hard. That can’t be good for you or our child. We have court events we’re committed to over the next few days, but after that I’ll see that you have one all for yourself. Whatever you’d like to do, wherever you’d like to go—with your guards watching over you, naturally.”
A day to myself, without needing any machinations to acquire it. What an unexpected gift.
I lower my head modestly. “I look forward to it.”
“And I look forward to seeing you return from your more peaceful adventures looking refreshed once I’m done with all my politicking on that day.” Marc gets up. “For now, I can at least offer you enough time to relax in a bath. I heard about a particular oil that’s supposed to soothe the spirit during pregnancy. I’ll have that sent up right away.”
He brushes a quick kiss to my lips and strides off. I watch the door shut on his heels, telling myself that the wobble of emotion that’s passed through my gut can’t possibly be guilt.
It doesn’t matter what pressures he’s been under or how he was raised. He deserves to fall after all the horrors he’s been a party to… doesn’t he?