Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aurelia
T he pain in my shoulder blares on and on. I sink to the floor, focusing on my breathing in an attempt to steady myself.
The throbbing doesn’t completely subside, but as I stay still and calm, it fades from absolute agony to merely vicious discomfort.
Slowly, bracing my limp arm against my chest so my shoulder jostles as little as possible, I scoot across the floorboards to the door. With my jaw clamped tight, I tip my head against the wooden surface.
The floor in the hall creaks as if with a brief pacing. I can’t make out the words in the murmuring of voices.
I don’t think my guards are entirely comfortable with the orders Linus gave them. Kassun was on duty tonight. If he saw what state I’m in, if I asked him with these tears in my eyes… I think he might revolt and summon a medic after all.
And then what? I don’t think Linus would stop at dislocating a guard’s shoulder. He’d likely lose his entire head.
This problem isn’t his to solve—or be punished for.
I prop myself against the door and close my eyes. The pain gradually dulls more. A pulsing burn radiates down my arm and through my chest, but it’s tempered enough that it’s easier for me to think.
How long does Linus plan to leave me here, enduring my injury? We’re already well past the eleventh bell. Will he return with a medic in the morning after he decides I’ve learned my lesson?
Will it even be Linus who emerges from the emperor’s apartment in the morning? He’s taken on the role for the past two days without breaks. The twins normally switch off more often than that. I have to think Marc will insist that he gets his turn.
He knows the sorts of trouble his twin instigated during our last two capital visits. He’ll want the chance to smooth over any disaster Linus created.
It’s possible Linus will argue, but he’s already gotten the spectacle and the celebration he wanted. I don’t think he’d push his brother farther than he has to, especially without a godlen-blessed armband to give him extra courage.
Will he admit to Marc what he did to me? Or hope that his twin will simply notice my absence and consider it a failing of mine?
As much as I’m trying to set the brothers against each other, it’s possible Linus is also trying to turn Marc against me.
My head tilts with my fatigue, and the ache of Linus’s blows radiates through my skull. I close my eyes, fighting to steady my mind.
I need to solidify Marc’s faith in me now more than ever. The more I can win him over, the safer I’ll be—and the sooner I’ll be truly secure.
I can use this setback as I have others before, can’t I? Playing the sweet, weak lamb has worked to my advantage plenty of times in the past.
Why wait for him to discover me when I can reach out to him for help? Act like I trust him to look after me?
I have to remind him of just how much I need his protection—and want it.
I let my eyes stay closed and tuck my legs closer to my body. The hall outside has gone quiet. Lanternlight wavers through the windows where I didn’t have the chance to shut the curtains, but otherwise I’m draped in shadows.
Despite my exhaustion after the long day, the constant throb of my shoulder makes true sleep impossible. I manage to doze, my mind drifting away for vague stretches and snapping back to alertness when my posture sags and sends a sharper pang through my arm. My thoughts muddle into a nonsensical haze.
Through the fog, an image I’ve seen before rises up: the hawk battering me with its wings and claws, the dove that sheds those vicious feathers in my embrace.
Ridiculous , I think at my godlen. Marc is nothing like a dove.
But he’s still a tamer hawk than his twin. I’ll take what I can get.
No one resides in this hall except for me and my husband farther down. With the glimmer of dawn through the windows, a few faint creaks sound beyond the door as a few servants slip by.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Linus sent orders that my maids should leave me to my own devices this morning. If he didn’t, the guards are supposed to send everyone away.
But they’re hardly going to deny the man who supposedly gave the instructions in the first place.
After what feels like an eternity, footsteps hit the floor with a firmer stride.
My heart skips a beat. Gritting my teeth, I heave myself onto my feet and twist the doorknob with my working hand.
I push the door open just as my husband is walking past.
When his gaze jerks to me, I know immediately that I gambled correctly that it would be Marc—and that I must look a fright. For all his studied imperial control, his eyes widen slightly at the sight of me. With the flick of his gaze over my body, his mouth pulls tight.
He’s fought on battlefields before. He might be able to recognize my injury without my even moving. Gods only know how my hair looks after a night of dozing against the door, how red-rimmed my eyes might be.
He wasn’t prepared. Linus didn’t tell him what he’d done.
All the better for me.
I force myself to speak quickly, with an inward wince at the initial croak of my voice. “Husband. I was hoping we could talk further about last night.”
Both of my guards have gone rigid on either side of the doorway. Kassun’s jaw works as if he’s considering castigating my husband for his treatment of me.
Marc hasn’t spent his whole life trading off with his twin—and cleaning up Linus’s messes—to falter now. He gathers a stern expression, erasing the hints of his surprise. “I suppose that’s reasonable.”
As he steps forward, I ease back into the room. My limp arm shifts against my side, and I have to bite my lip against a gasp.
At the thump of the door behind us, Marc’s detached attitude vanishes. His eyes flash with fury. He sets his hands against my shoulder to steady it.
His voice comes out low but taut. “Linus?”
I offer a pained smile. “He was… quite disappointed with my birthday present and wanted to make sure I remembered as much. He ordered the guards not to allow me a medic. I’m not sure I’d want any of the staff to see me like this anyway. But you—I was hoping it’d be you this morning.”
The anger in Marc’s eyes gives way to an intensity that’s somehow even hotter than his anger yet softer. He guides me farther from the door and the guards who might be trying to listen in, his grip still stabilizing my arm. “I can set your shoulder right again. I’ve learned basic military first aid. But it’ll still hurt—there’ll be tendons torn or bruised. Without a medic?—”
I lift my chin, emanating the determination I know he admires in me. “I can cope with the pain. I’ve got my own ointments and salves that will reduce the swelling, potions that will soothe the discomfort. The only thing I couldn’t do myself was put it back in place.” I pause and soften my smile to match his expression. “It’s a good thing I have you.”
Marc lets out a growl that sends an unexpected shiver over my skin. He adjusts his hands against my shoulder. “Brace yourself. At first, it’s going to hurt almost as much as when he snapped it out.”
I plant my feet against the floor and harden my nerves. Marc breathes out and in and then shoves the joint back together.
He wasn’t lying. A flare of pain explodes from my shoulder, sending a whine through my clamped lips.
Marc cups my face, his head bowed toward mine, holding me through the first wave of agony. It dwindles much faster than the initial injury. After a minute, I test my arm and find I can ease it back and forth with only a jab of pain.
“Best to move it as little as possible for as long as you can manage,” Marc says, swiping his thumb under my eye to wipe away a tear that trickled out. “I’m sorry. If I’d known, I’d have come sooner. He only said the relic you gave him was a dud, followed by some of his usual ranting about how you aren’t committed enough. He never mentioned how he’d punished you.”
I grimace as I lie. “I thought I’d found the artifact he wanted. But it seems it didn’t have the effect he was expecting.”
Marc fills in the possible explanations for me. “The magic could have dwindled over time. It’s been lost since the days when the godlen walked among us—untold centuries. Or perhaps it was never all that powerful to begin with. What’s incredible is that you were able to find it at all.”
I give a quiet laugh. “I think most of the credit should go to Elox.”
“You’re the one who convinced the godlen to show you the way. I swear you could tame anyone except my brother.”
His voice roughens again. He steps back, raking a hand through his golden-blond curls. “He’s so lost in his worst impulses now. I didn’t want to think it’d go this far, but…”
But he warned me, back in Vivencia when he first revealed their secret to me. He told me Linus didn’t care about my safety, that he might hurt me.
Why don’t you get on with getting rid of him then? I want to shout, but revealing my impatience will only work against my goals. It has to be Marc’s initiative, Marc’s choice. Not the slightest indication that his twin’s fears about my loyalties are correct.
And maybe Marc can’t help harboring a little loyalty toward his brother still, despite all his complaints. He shakes his head. “I suppose I should be glad he didn’t make as awful a hash of our arrival here as he could have. Conscribing the city’s children the way he did was a sort of brilliance, really.”
I’m still dazed enough from the pain and the sleepless night that his words take a moment to sink in. Any warmth Marc provoked in me freezes. “You like the spectacle he made with them?”
Some of the chill crept into my voice unintentionally. Marc blinks at me. “It was an effective strategy for recruiting locals who’ll be on the alert for signs of dissent. Give them a taste of victory, make them feel important, and dangle more rewards to come. It’s easier to mold a child’s mind than that of an adult set in their ways.”
All of those things are true, but each remark he adds sickens me more. I struggle to tamp down my revulsion. “He had those children fighting each other to earn the victory. Some of the kids were injured worse than I just was—and they are only kids.”
Marc’s eyes narrow, his own tone cooling. “I’m not saying I appreciate everything about my brother’s approach. All I can do is make the best of the groundwork he’s laid. Unless you think we should toss the whole country back to the insurgents.”
A clang of warning in the back of my head moderates my anger, but I can’t bring myself to back down completely.
It’s good that I see this—good that I get the reminder of how much of a monster even the kinder twin can be. Let’s determine exactly how far that kindness extends to anyone beyond the woman carrying his heir.
“Of course I don’t want the country thrown into war,” I say. “But I don’t see how manipulating the Lavirians’ own children against them is going to do anything but fan the flames that provoked the treason in the first place.”
“The ones who hate us will keep hating us anyway. Now we have a better chance of finding out who they are ahead of time. I’m not disbanding his little alliance, if that’s what you were hoping for.”
I was, but I don’t dare say that. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m merely expressing my opinion on the subject.”
Marc’s angular face hardens even more. “Then you forget that your opinion doesn’t really matter. I’m the emperor; I’m the one who bears the real burden. The one bit of help I’ve actually asked you for, you’ve refused.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked for something so against my nature, then.”
“Enough!” Marc snaps, with a sweep of his arm through the air.
The gesture doesn’t come anywhere close to touching me, but I flinch all the same. The tensing of my body sends a spike of pain through my healing shoulder. My breath hitches.
Marc goes still. His hand drops to his side, the fingers splaying. He stares at me through a few thuds of my heart.
The edge has faded from his voice. “ I wouldn’t have hurt you.”
A scoffing laugh clogs my throat. Is he really so unaware of all the times he’s already hurt me? Does he think nothing counts from before he revealed himself to me as Marc?
I gaze steadily back at him. “You were speaking approvingly of children attacking each other for a bag of gold and shouting me down for disagreeing. Forgive me if it’s difficult to know where you’d draw the line.”
Marc’s jaw works. “I’m not used to having every statement I make questioned. You can’t expect me to have perfect patience.”
“And you can’t expect me to keep quiet on the subjects that most disturb me.”
He exhales in a sigh. “Why are you so concerned about a few Lavirian children?”
My good hand moves to my belly, resting on the modest curve. “Children are on my mind rather a lot these days, as I think should be understandable. Would you put our son or daughter through that kind of torment for the sake of strategy?”
This time, it’s Marc who flinches. “Of course not.”
He sounds horrified enough that I believe him, but he doesn’t recognize the contradiction in his response.
My mouth twists with a pained smile. “You say that so easily. Don’t you think every parent who watched their child caught up in the fray two days ago cares about them just as much? Wants to protect them from harm just as much? How must they have felt standing by, knowing that defying Linus to protect their sons and daughters could have been a death sentence?”
Marc opens his mouth and then closes it again. He swipes his hand over his face. “Fuck.”
For a second I think he’s frustrated with me again. Then he offers a tentative smile of his own, crooked but warm. “No wonder the gods answer your call. You stand by so quiet and unassuming, but when you need to, you cut straight through to the heart of the matter.”
My wariness hasn’t left. “I try to acknowledge what I see as I see it.”
“Indeed.” He pauses. “You thought it was possible I’d strike you as my brother did, but you argued with me regardless. Is there nothing that truly shakes you?”
The thought of my real lovers being torn away from me. The thought of watching all the empire’s awfulness and never getting the chance to set it right after all.
I lift my uninjured shoulder in a slight shrug. “Is that not the temperament you were seeking with all those trials you put us through?”
“I suppose it was. I just never—” He reaches for my face again. “I’m sorry I chided you. All this conflict—all the cruelty my brother’s been dreaming up—even in my dreams, there’s so much wrath and bloodshed. He infects everything he’s around like a fucking poison.” The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Except you.”
The apology and the genuine affection I think I can hear in those words rattles me more than I was prepared for. My voice comes out rough. “As much good as it does me.”
“It does.” Marc grazes his fingertips ever-so-carefully from my temple to my cheek. “I want you to be fierce with me. I want you knowing your mind and speaking it. That’s what my empress should be. If I start ruling through the fear of speaking up, I’ll tumble right down the horrible hole Linus has already ended up in.”
I don’t know how long this unexpected change of heart will last, but I have to encourage it however I can. I tip my face into his touch as if relishing the caress. “I only want to see you and our empire thriving in every possible way.”
“As honorable a goal as one could ask for. My valiant, unshakeable wife.”
He eases closer to bring his mouth to mine. I accept the tender kiss with a tremor through my nerves that’s an unsettling mix of satisfaction and uneasiness.
When Marc draws back, to my surprise, he turns toward my trunks. “What do you have already concocted that will soothe your shoulder? We should see to that now. And you must be exhausted after spending all night in pain. You should take the day to rest—we had appearances planned, but I can simply say you’re mildly unwell.”
I might not trust either side of my husband, but I’ll give Marc this: his twin wouldn’t have cared about my well-being more than how it’d look for him to carry out his duties without his empress by his side.
“I can take care of my treatment.” I move to the trunks and open the one with my tea box.
Setting it on the room’s desk and unlatching it is easy enough with just one hand. Prying out the top tray proves harder.
I start to lift my injured arm, and Marc leaps in. “Just tell me what you need. You’ll heal faster if you strain the joint as little as possible.”
Once he’s opened up the lower compartment, I school my expression totally unaffected as if the bottle of the potion I top up my ring’s secret compartment with means nothing. If I don’t act as if I have anything to hide, he'll have no reason to suspect I do.
I pluck out a jar of ointment for encouraging muscles to heal and the packet of the powder that can dampen pain when ingested. Marc loosens the ties on my dress and slides down the fabric to bare my injured shoulder. At the sight of the purple-red bruises, he winces.
“He should have both his arms wrenched out and see how he likes it,” he mutters, but the brush of his fingers applying the ointment is nothing but gentle.
Even though he’s gotten me halfway undressed, he makes no leering remarks or attempts to bare me farther. Once the ointment is applied, he tugs my sleeve back up and helps me mix a dose of the powder into a glass of water.
As he walks with me over to the bed as if to make sure I’ll actually lie down, his gaze travels over my body pensively. “Is there anything else I could arrange to have brought up that would make you more comfortable?”
A numbing effect is already spreading through my wounded joint. I rest my head on the pillow, stretch my legs atop the bedspread, and give him a reassuring smile. “I have everything I need. After a short nap, I should be well enough to make an appearance—perhaps as soon as lunch time.”
Marc’s forehead furrows. “You needn’t rush. We’ll be here for at least a couple more weeks. You should take what respite you can.”
The respite from his twin’s demands, he means, possibly without even realizing that’s the implication of his words.
He strokes the side of my face one more time and stands as if to go without even claiming one last kiss.
Perhaps it’s my fatigue or the daze brought on by the release from pain, but a question I’d have thought twice about asking otherwise tumbles off my tongue. “Why have you never taken me to bed?”
Marc peers down at me with a subtle arch of his eyebrows, probably because he has just literally taken me to a bed. “Pardon?”
A flush prickles over my cheeks, but I’ve mired myself now.
I grope for the right way to ask the question without embarrassing myself more than I already have. “You’ve been acting as Marclinus just as often as Linus has. But from what I understand—from what you’ve said, and knowing how you each behave—the only times you and I have been… intimate were in Rexoran, when I approached you. You’ve never initiated that sort of encounter.”
He has told me that Linus is the more avid socialite and flirt, but I didn’t get the impression that Marc was feigning his attraction to me the two times he believes we’ve had sex. He obviously thinks of me as his wife. Why wouldn’t he want all the benefits?
Marc’s face twitches as if he’s struggling to come up with an answer as much as I did asking the question. “Well, I’ve been handling most of the practicalities of running the empire, when he isn’t butting in with some new catastrophe. I always have new concerns to attend to. And it’s really more his area of expertise.”
He says the last part dryly, but his explanation makes me think that might be more of the reason than the rest. He can’t have been so busy he couldn’t tug his wife aside for a quick tumble.
When we were in Rexoran, a couple of the comments he made suggested he thought I might be disappointed with his more sober demeanor.
“Ah,” I say cautiously. This is risky terrain to tread, buffing Marc’s ego without sounding as if I’m insulting his twin, but it could yield impressive rewards. “I’m not sure how much expertise factors into enjoyment. All talents aside, as personal preferences go, I have to admit I’m more fond of a gentler approach.”
Marc’s throat works. His eyes gleam with enough desire to make my breath catch. “That is… useful information to be aware of. In your current state, I don’t think it’s the best time to indulge.”
My face flares hotter. “Oh, er, that isn’t what I was implying. It simply occurred to me to wonder about the subject, what with you being here in my bedroom as you so seldom are.”
“Perhaps that has been neglectful of me.” He moves closer to the bed so he can trail his fingers over my shin through my dress. “And perhaps it’s too hasty of me to assume there’s nothing I can do for you now. Certainly it could be one more way to distract you from any lingering discomfort.”
His hand strokes back up to my knee from my ankle, dragging the silk of my skirt with it. “I can attend to you in a way that’ll be no strain, only pleasure.”
There’s still a question in his words. His hand lingers by my knee, one finger arcing across my inner thigh but not venturing any higher.
Waiting for my answer.
My innards knot at the thought of welcoming his attentions. It isn’t as if his concern in the last half hour means all that much.
But if I reject him after what I just said, I’ll destroy any gains I made with him.
I can’t knock him out at this hour in the morning without him suspecting something’s amiss. I’ll have to accept the full act. Fake the pleasure he’ll expect me to respond with.
Just how far am I willing to go to win him over?
The deepest pang brings up the image of my princes, even though I know I wouldn’t be betraying them. They’ve told me themselves they understand what may be required of me.
After everything I’ve already sacrificed to see my dreams through, is giving over my body like this really any worse?
The words snag in my throat just for an instant, but resolve propels them out with a smile of invitation. “I’ve seen that you’ll take good care of me. I wouldn’t say no to a little more pampering.”
Marc grins. I expect him to clamber over me, simply avoiding my injured arm as much as possible, but instead he kneels at the side of the bed. Tugging off one slipper, he presses a kiss to the top of my foot.
His mouth travels up over my ankle, along my shin, and over my knee. Each press of his lips brands my skin with heat.
He pauses to carefully drag my skirt up to my drawers. Then he continues his delicate path of kisses all the way to the lacy hem.
His breath washes over the sensitive folds between my legs through the thin silk. The warmth stirs a quiver of pleasure I hadn’t anticipated. I don’t entirely have to feign my gasp.
Marc returns to my feet to remove my other slipper and resume the journey on the other side. The second trail of kisses marks my skin as tenderly as the first.
This isn’t one of the men I’d have wanted touching me so adoringly. Resentment smolders inside me from all the injuries he’s dealt me over the past several months.
But at the same time, watching the ruler of the empire bend down before me and worship my body kindles a matching heat low in my belly. Every kiss up my inner thigh sets off new sparks.
When he grazes his fingertips over my sex and grins wider, I realize I’m wet.
The stroke of his hand conjures a deeper swell of bliss alongside a surge of revulsion. I want to resist, to harden myself against the involuntary reactions of my body.
But what will he think if I lie here like a statue? I knew I’d need to give a performance of enjoying this interlude.
Somehow it’s both easier and harder when it’s not a performance at all.
I let the moan that’s been building slip out. When he circles his thumb over my clit, I press my head into the pillow with a whimper that isn’t faked at all. My cheeks burn both with need and shame.
I could call this off now, tell him I’m in too much pain.
And then what? This is the most devoted he’s ever been with me.
When you get a fish on your hook, you don’t yank the line up at the first tug. You have to let the barb work its way in deeper.
Marc strips off my drawers, and I spread my legs wider to accommodate him. He crouches between my knees, the most powerful man in the continent bowing to his empress.
To me.
When his mouth closes over my sex, it’s true that any lingering discomfort from my shoulder washes away with the wave of arousal. My breath breaks into pants as he works me over, flicking his tongue around my clit and between my folds, suckling me harder as he dips one finger and another into my channel.
He might not have carved as many notches into his bedposts as his twin has, but he clearly ensured he picked up the most important skills. His fingertips press against the most wanting spot inside me, and my hips buck toward him of their own accord.
I squirm, unable to hold back a mewling sound. Marc takes that as his cue to lathe my clit even more avidly.
He swivels his tongue, pumping his fingers inside me against that perfect place, and I can’t deny the sensations whirling through me. I come with a sob and a quiver of my hips around his face.
As I come down from the high of my release, Marc plants a few more kisses on my thighs. He eases my dress back down to cover my legs. As he leans over to brush his lips against my mouth, he runs his fingers over my hair in a gentle caress.
The crotch of his trousers bulges with his own arousal, but he makes no mention of his needs.
“Let it never be said that I can’t listen,” he murmurs. “Now it’s your turn to listen. Get some sleep. I’ll check on you later, wife.”
He tugs the other side of the bedspread over me and heads out into the hall, leaving my eyelids drooping and a strange ache closing around my heart.
He shouldn’t be allowed to act so nice when I still have to kill him.