Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bastien
T he thump of my horse’s hooves against the matted, yellowed grass is echoed by the dozen steeds around us. Everywhere I look, there’s a soldier in the formal imperial uniform of indigo and dark gray.
I suppose I should be glad our escort is wearing the decorative military wear rather than the skeletal uniforms much more common beyond the imperial palace.
Not that there’ve been many people around to see us. We’ve only skirted a couple of towns on our three-hour trek across the countryside. As the low hills have shrunk into flatter and flatter terrain, we’ve passed shabby farmsteads only at a distance. I doubt any of the locals have realized that one of their princes is traveling nearby—and I’m not sure I’d want them to notice me in this ominous company.
When I pitched the idea to Marclinus—at a time when it seemed obvious I was dealing with Marc rather than Linus, who’d probably have laughed in my face—I had the vague idea of going off on a heroic quest to alleviate my people’s suffering. It’s hard to feel remotely heroic when I’m surrounded by the most dangerous representatives of our tyrants.
I drag in a breath, restraining a cough at the prickle of the dry air in my throat, and resist the urge to glance back at my main companion—the reason for all this security. Aurelia has ridden mostly in silence, never complaining, merely asking a question now and then as something in our surroundings catches her attention.
She isn’t so far along in her pregnancy that I’d imagine it’s a risk for her to ride—and Aurelia wouldn’t put our child in danger for an excursion like this anyway. But how comfortable can she be sitting in the saddle for all this time?
She must have decided seeing the effects of the droughts firsthand was worth leaving behind her carriage. Maybe she hoped Marc would mention the proposed venture to Linus, and the more sadistic twin would send us off alone as he did with the bog.
No such luck. I can recognize that it was Marc’s more measured demeanor seeing us off this morning, his coolly calculating gaze studying the soldiers along the convoy to pick out who should supplement his wife’s regular personal guard.
I’ve been keeping a close eye on them too, for any sign of animosity toward the woman I love. With her personal guards sticking close at her sides, she should be well protected from threats beyond our entourage—and any within it.
Our diversion from the main convoy should be simple enough. The unconstrained horses move much faster than those hitched to carriages. We’ve set off to the northwest, and we’ll veer back to the northeast when I’m done, aiming to rejoin the main procession by dinner.
We clop over a stone bridge that crosses a narrow gully. I glance down at the cracked mud at the gully’s bottom.
Aurelia must follow my gaze. “That used to be a stream,” she remarks from behind me.
I nod without looking back. “One of the many that’s had its waters diverted into the canals that serve the forts farther west.”
Her frown colors her voice. “Wouldn’t canals branching off from the Seafell Channel have been simpler?”
“The channel’s water is a bit brackish. Not ideal for drinking or for the crops meant to support the forts’ food supply.”
Only the best for His Imperial Majesty’s thugs . A thought I keep behind clamped lips, though I’m sure Aurelia can put the pieces together from what I did say.
She hums to herself. “Do the canals only support the Darium forts, or have some of the farmers moved to be closer to the redirected waters as well?”
“What viable land there is for farming near the channel was already claimed. I suppose those farmers may have gotten some small benefit from the shift in the waterways.” Off-set by the Darium forces’ habit of grabbing whatever supplies they want without offering reasonable payment. I doubt the Coteans living close to the forts consider themselves blessed.
The next farmhouse we spot in the distance looks outright decrepit: part of its roof collapsed in, the paint worn off in patches. Aurelia sucks in a breath that sounds faintly pained. “I suppose some of the farming families ended up having to give up the trade altogether.”
“It’s been difficult for many. Some have shifted to crops that require less water or simply scraping by with a reduced yield… but there are those who couldn’t find the right balance and had to seek new work elsewhere.”
Aurelia’s next silence feels pensive. She’s taking my comments in, absorbing the situation.
Frustration prickles through me. How much can I even really tell her? I’ve barely spent any time at all in my home country in the past sixteen years. What I know about the droughts is almost entirely secondhand from my family and members of the court in Delphine.
I know she wants to make this situation better—to find a permanent solution, not a brief respite like the rain clouds I’ll summon. What can I do to give her a more complete perspective?
I am going to need to stop to work my gift. Exercising my gift so intensively while on horseback would be incredibly unwise.
As much as I loathe the idea of bringing our military escort around the locals, who could better inform Aurelia of the challenges they’re facing than those who live here?
And I wouldn’t mind it if word spreads that the second-born prince is still looking out for his people. Or that the empress took a personal concern in the well-being of ordinary Coteans.
I grapple with the idea for several minutes until a long wooden building comes into view up ahead. I know enough about farming practices to recognize it as a market post—a place where nearby farmers gather to sell off or trade the produce that hasn’t been claimed in their regular contracts.
Resolve winds around my gut. This is as good a setting as I’ll get.
Now how do I ensure I don’t create a catastrophe by bringing these soldiers so close to the people who have very good reason to resent them?
I clear my throat. “The market post up ahead will make a good central spot for me to call in the rain. The locals may be intimidated by a larger intrusion… Perhaps I should go ahead with only a couple of guards.”
Aurelia picks up on my concern immediately, as I hoped she would. Her riding gown rustles as she glances around at our escort. “I’d like the chance to speak with the Cotean farmers, but it wouldn’t do to make them feel as if they’re being imposed on. Could most of you hang back? I’m sure it won’t take more than one or two swords to intervene if I’m actually threatened, which seems unlikely.”
Mutters pass between the soldiers. One of them lifts his voice. “Your Imperial Highness, we swore to His Imperial Majesty that we wouldn’t leave your side.”
“I’m not asking you to leave, just to give me a little more distance. What if you gathered on the left side of the building, in view of me but not right on top of the civilians who are simply trying to make their living. I’ll be all of ten paces away.”
One of her usual personal guards speaks up. “Kassun and I will stay right with her. We can protect her perfectly well from a few farmers.”
The derision in her voice with that last word scrapes at my nerves, but I let it pass. We’ll get our way more easily if the soldiers assume the locals pose no threat.
After a little more muttering, one of the soldiers sighs. “So be it, Your Imperial Highness. It may be best for us to keep watch for threats from farther abroad, after all.”
“Exactly. Thank you so much for looking out for us.”
She speaks with such warmth that it’s a wonder to me they don’t fall at her feet just like that.
When we dismount at the side of the building, I take advantage of the cover of the horses to admire my empress. The angles of her elegant features have always been gentle, but they’ve softened more with the growing swell of her belly. There’s a glow to her as if the love I know she already has for the child inside her is seeping out through her skin.
No one here except me realizes how fierce that light can become when she’s ready to fight in her own way.
She offers me a smile she keeps tentative and lets me lead the way around the market building. A few figures have emerged from the broad front doors, leaving behind the tables I can glimpse in the shadowy interior. The tart smell of cider carries from a stand set up between two of the doors.
Aurelia’s personal guards stick close behind her as promised. The locals take in them and the two of us in our fine clothes without any sign of recognition—but why would they know us? Aurelia has never ventured out this way before, and the last time I might have, I was many years younger.
The woman who’s stepped farthest forward raises her eyebrows. She speaks in Cotean, of course—I doubt she knows more than a few basic words of the language of our conquerors, if that. “Did you come to buy? You don’t look like our usual sort of customers.”
I draw my slim frame up as tall as it’ll go and firm my voice. Something lightens in my chest at the chance to use my native tongue. “I’m hoping I can offer you something better. I’m Prince Bastien, secondborn to King Stanislas and Queen Odile. I chose my dedication gift based on the difficulties this part of the country faces. I can summon rain clouds to give you some relief from the current drought.”
The three faces flicker with at least as much skepticism as awe. The man to the right eyes the imperial guard uniforms and eases back a step. “We weren’t complaining—we didn’t badger anyone about anything.”
Is he afraid this is some kind of trick?
I hold up my hand in an attempt to calm him. “You’ve faced trying circumstances admirably. We were passing by not far from here, and I wanted to do what good I can while I have the chance. And—” I motion to Aurelia. “Her Imperial Highness Empress Aurelia hoped to learn more about your concerns as she continues her tour of the empire.”
If the woman’s eyes got any wider, I’d expect them to pop right out of her head. All three of the farmers stare for a beat and then bend over in the deepest of bows. The woman stays crouched down. “Your Imperial Highness—I never would’ve thought—I’m sorry if I seemed rude?—”
“Not at all,” Aurelia breaks in smoothly. Her Cotean words don’t come quite as steadily as when she’s speaking in Darium, but she conveys plenty of sincerity that I suspect will matter more. “It’s worried me to hear about the troubles your farms have faced. I’d like to know more about the problems you’ve encountered and what might help solve them. Every citizen of the empire deserves to pursue their livings free from dire hardship.”
The woman straightens up with a tentative smile in return. It looks as if my lover has the locals well in hand.
I have my own goal to see to.
As I step a little farther from their group, one of the men drifts closer to me. “Is there anything I can do to help, Your Highness?” he asks uncertainly.
I pause. “I wouldn’t mind having a mug of that cider waiting for me when I’m done working my gift. It takes quite a bit out of me. I’ll pay you, of course.”
“Nah, don’t even think about that! If you can bring the rains, that’s worth wagons full of cider barrels.”
He hustles off to procure my drink, and I turn to the south. If I stir up the air currents from that direction, we can ride ahead of the rainclouds as they drift on over this territory—and hope to escape getting caught in the downpour.
Pressing my hand against my godlen brand, I extend my awareness through the ripples of the air all the way up to the sky and farther west. The eddies weave between tufts of condensation that I recognize as the clouds.
I need to find thicker ones, full of moisture. Farther south and near the channel is the best bet…
As my mind travels away on the wings of my gift, my sense of my immediate surroundings fades. My head fills with the sensations of flowing breeze and billowing dampness.
There’s a clump of them. Jurnus give me strength.
I will the air to condense into an increasingly forceful blast of wind. It streams across the mass of cloud I’m focused on and shoves the water-logged puffs onward.
Drift a little farther… A little farther still…
An ache forms in the back of my skull, but I ignore it. With each passing minute that I focus my gift, the wind picks up vigor and the clouds rush closer toward us.
A nearby gasp brings most of my consciousness back to earth. I blink, clearing my vision, and find myself gazing up at a mass of ominous gray looming over the nearby fields.
The wind I’ve provoked has taken a mind of its own. It whips around the building with a hollow warbling, and I release it to fly free.
The throbbing in my skull has spread all the way around to my forehead. My single lung has constricted, my breath coming with a faint rattle. When I adjust my stance, my knees wobble under me.
“Your Highness, the cider.” The farmer scrambles over to me, hesitates, and dashes back to the building to grab a stool. He sets it down just in time for me to sag onto it.
“Thank you,” I say raggedly. I clutch the mug he hands me, inhaling and exhaling as evenly as I can until the worse of the strain subsides.
Thunder rumbles to the south. The first pattering of rain streaks down just a few miles distant. My helper lets out a crow of delight, and a bright glow of my own flows through my chest.
No matter how the empire batters us down, we can still find our ways to survive.
As much as I’d like to revel in the victory, we’re going to need to move on soon to avoid getting drenched. As soon as I can actually move.
I gulp the tartly sweet cider and glance over to where Aurelia is standing in conference with the other two farmers.
The woman’s forehead is furrowed. “I’m not sure if stopping up a canal would put things back to rights at this point. Once you’ve changed the way the earth is shaped, it can’t always shift back to how it was before, no matter how you try.”
Aurelia frowns. “There must be ways to ensure the water would spread out over similar routes across its old territory.”
“Mayhap. We’d have to see. It wouldn’t be so much turning back time as wiping the slate clean and seeing how the chips fall next.”
Aurelia exhales with a note of disappointment. “I’m sorry there isn’t a clearer answer. I’ll continue to think on it.”
“It means a lot that you’re willing to think about us.” The woman swipes her hand past her forehead and beams at the approaching rain, heedless of the damp breeze that ruffles her wavy hair. “There’ve been hard times, I won’t deny that. But we’ve withstood the tough parts all the same. We’ll see what comes. No matter how barren the soil has seemed, the plants still sprout. We just give them time.”
I swallow thickly. What I wouldn’t give for her kind of patience.
Then again, I’m not sure the struggles the farmers have faced are quite of the same intensity as the abuse Aurelia has endured at her husband’s hands.
I push myself to my feet, tamping down the swell of dread.
I’ve done a little good here. Hopefully Aurelia has learned one or two useful things.
And now we must return to her jailer.