Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Aurelia
M y maids are just finishing fastening a delicate gold-and-sapphire ornament in my hair when one of my guards calls through the door. “King Josif and Queen Irini are here to see you, Your Imperial Highness.”
I smile at my maids. “I think you’ve offered all the help I need. Enjoy yourselves for the rest of the night.”
I open the door to let them slip out and welcome my parents into my chambers. Both stride inside with rather grim expressions. Mother is clutching a carved marlwood box.
She summons a smile and holds the box out to me. “Happy birthday, darling. We wanted to see you before the official celebration begins, whatever it might entail.”
My husband demanded that a banquet and a ball be held tonight for the occasion. I suppose having his empress honored reflects on his own glory—when he’s in the mood to benefit from my happiness rather than tormenting me.
The pensive air that’s followed my parents into the room sets my nerves jangling. But when I pop open the box, I find nothing remotely ominous. A luminous moonstone pendant shines in the lanternlight on a simple but finely crafted gold chain.
I lift it, turning it in my hand, and discover Elox’s sigil etched on the back of the pendant.
“It’s godlen-blessed,” Father says in an unusually hesitant voice. “Meant to calm one’s emotions and center one’s soul. We came across it a few months ago, before we knew— In the coming years, perhaps you’ll need even more fortitude than you’ve already gathered. But after yesterday’s events, it occurred to us that if you could convince Marclinus to wear it…”
They’ll have observed just as I did that my husband’s temper evened out a little after he sipped the blessed waters. I suppose they’re hoping this relic might produce a similar effect.
I won’t deny that thoughts along those lines passed through my head last night. If I could somehow get a continuous supply of the mineral scrapings that calmed him, contrive to regularly add them to his food and drink without being noticed…
But even if I could accomplish all that, I’m not sure the effect would make much of a difference. He might have decided to end the test as he did regardless.
Within a couple of hours of returning to the palace, he was already shouting for his friends to entertain him and making mocking remarks about the Accasian cuisine. He started pawing at me during dinner so determinedly I had to feign enough passion to convincingly drag him back to my bedroom rather than endure his groping in front of my family and friends any longer.
And then he kept grimacing at the sight of my uncovered belly, even after the hallucinations took over.
Dosing him with the calming mineral wouldn’t be a solution. It’d barely be a half-measure. And if I was caught at it, I doubt Linus would blink before gutting me as a traitor.
A necklace is more discreet, if I could convince him to wear it. Though gods only know whether I’d like Linus’s soul when it’s “centered” any more than I do now.
I tuck the necklace back into its box. “Thank you. I’ll see what he thinks of it—it’s worth a try. Such an effect might very well be a gift to me even if it’s acting on him.”
I look up at my parents with a twist of my stomach. They’re worried about me. How could they not be after what they’ve seen of the fate they arranged?
But they did arrange it. They thought the sacrifice was worth it for the good I might do. Now I need them ready to help me bring about an even better future than we dared to dream of nearly a year ago.
“Even if he doesn’t want to wear it,” I add, “I’m… managing. I’ve had to adjust my plans, but things will get better for Accasy—and all the rest of the empire. Much better. It’s only taking a little longer than I’d hoped.”
Mother’s mouth ticks as if she’s restrained a frown. She rests her hand on the side of my shoulder. “You saw through the most important part. The most dangerous part. You don’t need to take any more risks. Guide him as well as you can, but if he’s resisting…”
Father picks up the thread in a steadier voice. “It’s clear that going against him may only bring his anger down on you and our people. We can survive as we are. We have to protect what we still have before we try for more.”
Are they really saying that we should just lie down and take whatever the emperor throws at us? That it isn’t worth fighting for something better?
I set the box on my desk to hide the clenching of my hands. “I haven’t been foolhardy, of course. But when I see a risk that could have an incredible reward, I intend to take it. Otherwise I won’t have accomplished anything at all.”
“Oh, but you already have, Aurelia,” Mother says. “And all the little differences you’ll continue to make, no matter how small, mean a lot. We must be patient.”
Frustration prickles under my skin. They’re acting like the nobleman in the caves who fretted about bending the theoretical rules of our test.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to lay out my plans for my parents in any specifics, but I assumed they’d appreciate a vague sense that I have the situation in hand, that I still have significant moves to make. Do they really think our people would prefer to continue living with the fear and hardships the empire imposes on them rather than gamble for a very real chance at happiness?
When did our king and queen become too afraid to believe they could offer more?
Were they always this cautious, and I simply never realized because caution seemed like the sensible option while I lived here? Because they helped me plan the one gamble that wasn’t really much of a gamble at all once we crafted every tool we needed to murder Tarquin discreetly?
Father said the idea came to him in a vision from Elox—his chosen godlen too. Maybe he’d never have dared anything even a fraction as bold without divine urging.
Would I have, if I hadn’t been thrust right into the middle of the fray?
With those uncomfortable questions buzzing in my head, the bell for the seventh hour rings through the walls. Father pulls his posture straighter. “We’d best get to your banquet. His Imperial Majesty has made it clear he expects promptness.”
Even that comment niggles at me as we move out into the hall.
My birthday banquet is being held in the dining room in the main palace, where both courts can gather comfortably if rather more cozily than they’re used to. I step into the familiar room—and my breath catches in my throat.
Between the usual chandeliers, glowing illusions light up the ceiling: frolicking lambs, soaring doves, waving willow boughs. All the symbols of the godlen I rely on so much.
I stop my gaze from darting around in search of Lorenzo. This can’t be his doing—he’d never show off his true gift so blatantly for a superficial purpose.
My husband must have given orders for one of the local illusionists to work their gift.
I inhale deeply, and a flood of savory, spicy scents fill my lungs. I can already make out the tang of forest apples and the kick of sorvinder pepper that go with two of my favorite dishes.
Dishes we’ve never eaten in Dariu other than the adaptations I arranged during my one dinner party that merged Darium and Accasian flavors.
The crowned figure at the head table—poised on one of the two throne-like chairs positioned in the middle to preside over the entire room—beckons me over with a smile that looks genuinely warm. I walk toward my husband in a bit of a daze.
It’s Marc, clearly. I should have known that just based on the fact he recognized my birthday at all.
It was weeks ago that I mentioned the date to him. Is this why I’ve barely seen him all day—because he was busy arranging a spectacle for me?
A flutter I don’t want to feel passes through my pulse.
He has his own reasons for wanting me happy. It isn’t all kindness.
But possibly at least a tiny bit is. I’ve won some part of his affections.
When I reach our chairs, Marc stays standing and takes my hand. His fingers twine through mine with a gentle squeeze.
His eyes shine like the illusions overhead. Have I ever seen him look at me quite so fondly?
It might be an act, wanting to compensate for the trouble his twin put us through yesterday in front of the people who’ve known me best.
Marc lifts his other hand in a silencing gesture. The murmurs that filled the dining room fall to a total hush.
My husband aims one more smile at me before lifting his voice as well. “I’m pleased that we could be here in my wife’s country of birth to celebrate the day she came into this world twenty-two years ago. My only regret is that I didn’t have the chance to know her for more of those years. How could anyone ask for a better empress than one who ensures that everyone wins, as she accomplished so deftly in yesterday’s test? Let us celebrate and honor this incredible woman as she deserves!”
I wouldn’t say that everyone won, considering we buried two members of our court. All the same, applause thunders through the room. Faces light up all along the tables, especially among the local nobles.
He’s reframed yesterday’s unnerving challenge in a hopeful way, as if my husband only ever intended to show off my wits and not to torture every Accasian he could.
If only they could be dealing with Marc rather than Linus all of the time.
I get grins from many of the Darium nobles as well, particularly those who were forced into our subterranean group. Did I succeed in convincing them that throwing their lot in with me was a victory, not a mistake?
Marc’s words may have made the difference between those two outcomes.
Even High Commander Axius tips his head to me when he catches my gaze from his nearby table. His mouth is set in a measured smile that still might be the warmest expression he’s ever aimed at me. Next to him, Counsel Etta’s chin gives a nervous twitch, but she’s joined the applause with her veined hands.
Earning the local court’s good will by complimenting their former princess works to my husband’s advantage too, of course. Better that than them feeling they need to protect me—and themselves—from him. But when Marc looks at me as we sit down, his eyes still gleaming, it’s hard to shake the impression of honest admiration in his eyes.
“I handled the test we were given as best I could,” I say quietly as the first dishes are laid out before us.
“And your best is quite capable.” He gives my hand one last soft squeeze before releasing it to pick up his fork. “I thought you would appreciate having the godlen whose principles guide your own represented for your celebration.”
I glance up at the illusions flowing across the ceiling. “They’re quite spectacular. I hope they bring a sense of peace to everyone who looks on them.”
Marc chuckles. “Peace. That is the dream, isn’t it?”
Is it his? As I cut into the sculpted egg that’s our first course, I study him from the corner of my eye.
Would it be easier to present the necklace to Marc and hope he’ll be able to convince his twin to don it as well? Or would he be suspicious of my motives if I suggest that the gift be shared between them?
Perhaps Linus will be more likely to accept the ornament if it comes directly from me in an apparent attempt to appease him rather than from the brother he’s been butting heads with for months.
There is another matter I need to address with Marc sooner rather than later.
I keep my tone carefully casual. “There was a soldier ‘you’ called on to set off the rockslide yesterday, with a gift something to do with shaking the earth? I don’t recall seeing him around the imperial palace. Is he a new recruit?”
“Hmm?” Marc’s gaze goes distant with thought. “Right, Gallum. He’s not new to the army, but he hasn’t been on imperial duty before, as far as I know. He’s one of the reinforcements sent down from Lavira.”
“I suppose High Commander Axius vetted all of those?” I glance toward the smaller table where the military man is sitting with several of the Darium nobles.
“Naturally, and I looked over their files myself.” Marc’s piercing eyes return to me. “Did you have some concern about him?”
I have the sudden, ridiculous urge to confess my suspicion of assassination attempts and Linus’s possible involvement. But all I actually have are a few moments that could be dismissed as chance or clumsiness across as many months.
Marc worried about his twin harming me, but would he believe Linus has come up with an elaborate plan to off me in secret? Or would he think I’ve become paranoid as well? I don’t even know if I truly believe Linus is behind the attempts.
I can’t say anything to him. If he repeats my worries to Linus, that could put my life in more danger rather than less.
I offer a mild smile instead. “Not at all. It only occurred to me how many gifts our companions might have that I’m unaware of. Do all the imperial staff and soldiers have their gifts noted in official records?”
Marc nods. “The main files are back in Vivencia, but I noted down all the vital information about those who’re traveling with us in one of my personal record books. If you think the knowledge might be useful, I can lend it to you.”
He doesn’t have any concerns about giving me access—he mustn’t have jotted down anything particularly sensitive. Checking for other gifts that could have been used for sabotage will be helpful all on its own, though.
I spear another tidbit of egg. “Thank you, I’d be interested in looking through your notes.”
At the sight of the next dish being carved up and laid out—a roast pig rubbed red with its mix of spices, set on a bed of potatoes and forest apples—my mouth starts to water. “Did you pick tonight’s menu on your own?”
Marc grins. “You’re pleased already? I made sure the kitchen staff knew to prepare your favorites. I look forward to sampling more Accasian delicacies.”
That’s certainly a much different tune than Linus was singing last night.
I can’t help beaming back at him. “Thank you. It’s all wonderful.” A strange twinge passes through my chest. “You didn’t get to celebrate your own birthday at all. Not like this.”
Marc shrugs without any hint of regret. “I don’t usually take on the festivities. That way I can be around to see that what’s more important gets done.” He pauses, something shifting in his eyes. “This is important.”
An unexpected flush creeps up my neck at the intensity in his gaze. “Thank you,” I say again, not knowing how else to answer it.
My husband hasn’t restricted the wonders of the celebration to the feast. When we proceed to the ballroom afterward, I find it’s been enchanted with illusions as well—more Eloxian symbols as well as abstract lights that ripple across the ceiling like the streaks of a sunset, matching the rhythm of the melody the musicians have struck up.
Marc grasps my hand again. “I must claim the first dance.”
I squeeze his fingers. “You can have it.” I’d prefer to stay within the range of his personal guards as much as I can justify, after all.
As my husband guides me across the dance floor, I discover that’s been enchanted too. Glimmers spark under our feet and swirl out across the polished surface.
He might not be my preferred partner, but the illusionary effects make the dancing feel magical all the same. I stay with Marc for two songs before alternating between my husband and various other nobles, local and Darium, who seek out their empress. Most of them want to impress him as much as me, so it isn’t all that hard to remain nearby.
And it’s not at all suspicious that at one point I find myself taking Bastien’s hand and letting the prince of Cotea twirl me beneath his arm in time with the latest song.
“Are you enjoying your birthday?” he asks, his lowered voice warmer than his carefully impassive expression would suggest.
“I can think of a few ways I’d enjoy it more,” I murmur with a cautious glance around us. “But it’s certainly an improvement over yesterday.”
A short laugh escapes him. “Not a difficult feat to accomplish. But perhaps it can be even better.”
As he spins me again, he takes the opportunity to form a few furtive gestures with his other hand. Night. Outside, forest. Come?
What do my lovers have in mind?
I restrain the eager smile that tugs at my lips and drop my voice to a whisper when we’re facing each other again. “I can meet you there. I have ways to leave my rooms without being seen. Wait far back in the trees beyond the imperial palace.”
Bastien looks as if he’s controlling a grin of his own. His hand lingers on my side, rigid in a way that will look like reluctance to our observers but I know is him holding in check the caresses he’d like to offer. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?”
I do smile then, slight and secretive. “My parents prepared well for my first visit as empress.”
We follow the melody in companionable silence for several more beats before Bastien opens his mouth again. “What do you think of?—”
A belligerent voice breaks through his question and the music. “Balls are such a bore. Who’m I supposed to dance with when m’ boyfriend’s playing the songs?”
Both our heads jerk toward the spot where Neven is pacing at the edge of the ballroom. He’s clutching a wine goblet, and it appears he’s spilled a certain portion of it—or some previous glass—on his shirt. The sway to his steps doesn’t look particularly sober.
Bastien sucks a breath through his teeth. “Shit. I thought he was drinking too much at dinner. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. I’d better talk to him.”
He shoots me an apologetic glance and hustles over to his younger foster brother. As I watch, Raul catches up with them too.
As far as I can tell, Neven tells both of them off. He stalks away with his goblet, his face set in a hazy scowl.
The song winds down, and Marc rests his hand on my waist from behind. “I hope you aren’t too tired yet, wife.”
With the promise of more celebration to come beyond what he’s arranged, I’m looking forward to ending this part of the night, but I do still need to keep him happy. I step into his arms. “I have the energy for one more dance if it’s with you.”
He dips his head close. “And perhaps I can continue keeping you company when you’re ready to leave.”
I gaze up at him and lie through my teeth. “That sounds lovely.”
He doesn’t touch me anywhere more provocative than my arm or my waist through the dance and as he escorts me back to my apartment. When we’re alone in my bedroom, he frames the swell of my belly between his hands.
I tense up without meaning to, too quickly to prevent my reaction. Marc glances up at me with a furrowed brow.
I explain before he has to ask. “Your brother… has expressed some dissatisfaction with the current shape of my body. Of course I want to look as pleasing as possible for?—”
The flash of Marc’s eyes burns away any lingering shame from Linus’s caustic remarks. “He’s a fucking idiot. You’re beautiful. This is beautiful.” He strokes his thumbs over the growing curve that now protrudes nearly as far as my breasts. “You’re more radiant every day I see you. I wish I was seeing you every day.”
There’s something you could do about that wish , I say only in my head, but perhaps Marc can guess at that thought.
He raises one hand to my cheek. “You really were incredible yesterday. I wish I could have seen that . You always find ways to stand up to everyone in your own way, and you even managed to head off whatever additional violence Linus might have carried out.”
The praise sends a flush through my body that I don’t know what to do with.
I lower my eyelashes. “He might have stopped there anyway.”
“Knowing my twin, I doubt it.” Marc caresses the side of my face. “You have a different kind of strength than I knew existed. Maybe there are other problems you could solve that I always assumed couldn’t be, as long as we have the chance to try. I promise it’ll be better soon. Once we’re back home… Once we’re home, I can set everything in order.”
What exactly does he mean by that?
I don’t think the woman he believes he’s looking at would press for more reassurance. He’d rather be simply trusted. So I bob up on my toes to kiss him, flicking open the barb on my ring as I do.
As his caresses move down my body, I guide us over to the bed. Before the drug kicks in, a different sort of question gnaws at the back of my mind.
What would it be like to hear my husband say those things and be able to fully believe them?
And why has an ache formed in my heart at the thought that I’ll never know?