Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Aurelia
A s the carriage lurches over a stone in the road, I brace one hand against the seat and the other on my belly. The ever-expanding life inside me squirms as if displeased with the bumpy ride.
Marc’s head jerks up from where he’s been writing notes where he’s sitting across from me. “Are you all right?”
I give him a wry smile. “Just a momentary discomfort.”
I was glad to leave my old home and the conflicted emotions it provoked behind, but every day of the journey to Goric has been a little more trying on my body. Aches are starting to wake up in places I didn’t know I could ache. I need to relieve myself more than is really practical on such a trek.
A few days ago, I had to switch my gold-and-sapphire ring from my forefinger to my ring finger to accommodate the gradual swelling of my hands alongside my belly. By the time we return to Vivencia, I may need the cleric who orchestrated my marriage to resize the wedding band around my wrist so it doesn’t dig into my flesh.
With nearly three months left before the baby should be due to arrive, I’ve still got quite a way to go. I can only hope that we’re done with carriage rides before the worst of the discomforts set in.
Marc grimaces. “This is the smoothest road between the mountains, but it’s still rougher than most beyond this stretch. I’d have taken us back around through Cotea and Lavira if that route wouldn’t have added multiple weeks to our journey.”
I shake my head. “It’s more important that we finish our rounds well before the baby is ready to arrive. But I am looking forward to our next stop.”
Marc’s expression softens with that hint of affection I’m still getting used to—and still not totally sure whether to trust. He leans toward the window. “The waystation is just up ahead. We sent word—the local workers will already be getting our lunch prepared.”
His gaze slides from the road to the mountainside looming just beyond it. “I can’t imagine how anyone lives all the way out here.”
“We wouldn’t have all the materials we need if not for the mining communities,” I remark. “And I suppose there are some people who simply like the challenge of braving harsher environments.”
There’s also the benefit of the isolation removing those communities from most of the empire’s attention, but I’d rather not highlight that advantage.
When the carriages draw to a stop by the waystation near a small cluster of homes, Marc slips out first so he can help me down. The frigid wind that warbles down the nearby slopes licks beneath my cloak. I roll my shoulders and shake the travel aches from my legs and hips, sticking close to the side of the carriage.
The imperial soldiers that surround our convoy feel even less like devoted protectors than they did when we set out on this journey. No one who questioned Gallum discovered anything about attempts on my life. Linus finally ordered him sent back to Lavira to face Tribune Valerisse for final judgment and punishment.
He’s no longer a concern, but I have no idea whether he was alone in his sentiments. I still can’t be sure Linus himself didn’t put the soldier up to his crimes.
At least I can take comfort that Marc’s records didn’t reveal any other gifts that sounded particularly dangerous among our escort.
A white-blond head pushing past a carriage door catches my attention. Neven plants himself on the side of the road, his mouth set in a scowl and his eyes stormier than I’ve ever seen them. His gaze flicks to the musicians chattering by their carriage several beyond his, and his scowl deepens.
I haven’t seen him with his harpist boyfriend since shortly after we left Costel. During the past few dinners, it’s looked as if the other man was keeping the prince of Goric at a wary distance.
Did they end their relationship? If tensions between them were building before the breakup, that could account for a lot of the youngest prince’s recent irritability.
I told him I could be a sort of older sister to him. If I’m going to act on that offer, this seems like an ideal time.
With one more stretch of my limbs, I turn to Marc. “I haven’t heard a great deal about Goric so far. I think I’ll take this luncheon with Prince Neven, if you don’t object, and see what insights he might be able to share.”
My husband considers the teenaged prince with his own wariness. “He’s seemed to be in a bit of a mood lately. Watch that he doesn’t aim any of his temper at you.”
“I’m sure he’ll be perfectly respectful to his empress.”
I’m not actually sure of that at all, but I can’t say I blame Neven for being ill-tempered. Not only has he apparently lost the man he spent months longing for, he’s also about to find out how his emperor plans to torment his home country after witnessing what all the rest of us conquered royals have been put through.
Many of the nobles have already returned to their carriages after a brief stretch of their legs, seeking shelter from the cold mountain air. Neven stalks a little farther away from his vehicle, his strides stiff. As I amble over to join him, I tamp down my apprehension as well as I can.
Elox give me patience and all the compassion he needs.
When he notices my approach, I speak before he can, in the sort of soft sisterly tone Soreena has used with me in the past. “Hey. How are you getting on? I noticed things appear to have soured between you and your musician.”
Neven’s face only darkens, a ruddy cast coming over his tan skin. “I’m sure Bastien is happy about that. Probably the others too.”
The accusing look he gives me suggests he thinks I might be one of those “others.”
I keep my voice gentle. “I don’t think he wants to see you upset. He was concerned about your well-being, like any older brother would be.”
“Well, he’s not actually my brother,” Neven mutters, kicking at a stray pebble.
“And I’m not actually your sister,” I acknowledge, “but I think the sort-of family we’ve made has gotten us through a lot. If you want to talk about it—or anything else you reasonably can—I wanted you to know I’m still here. I can understand you might be worried about quite a few things.”
The prince’s shoulders tense even more. “He didn’t like it. Said I was getting too intense and angry about everything. Why shouldn’t I be angry? So many things are so fucked up…”
My brow knits. “Bastien said that?”
“No, Calvus.” Neven jerks his head toward the musicians, who are just clambering back into their carriage. “I wasn’t enough ‘fun’ anymore.”
Oh. Then Neven’s dark moods were the cause of his fractured relationship rather than the result of it.
How badly is he stressing about the tests Marclinus has been inflicting on each country—and what the emperor might have in store for Goric?
I grope for the right words. “I’m sorry. He obviously has a lot less to be concerned about than you do. But we’ll get through whatever’s coming as we have what’s come before. I’ll intercede as much as I can, and?—”
Neven cuts me off with a curt, scoffing laugh. “Intercede? What have you ever done, really? I wanted to protect you, but you don’t even stand up for yourself. You let so much happen right in front of you… Even when he’s having your own people offed, you just stand there saying nice words… What kind of empress is that?”
His criticism hits me like a punch in the face. I sway backward a step before I gather my rattled nerves.
“Your Imperial Highness?” Kassun calls out from his respectful distance behind us. I raise my hand to hold off his concern.
Neven’s accusation still stings. He’s seen how brutal our emperor can be—he knows how much I’ve endured just to stay alive.
What more does he really think I could have done and still be here to act as empress at all?
A lump has filled my throat, but I manage to speak past it. “I promise you I do as much as I can without crossing the line into making the situation worse. It’s a difficult balance. If you feel I haven’t been appreciative enough of your contributions, I?—”
“Oh, fuck off.”
As he tosses the insult at me, Neven’s expression twitches as if even he didn’t expect to go that far. Then he spins on his heel and marches back to his carriage without another word.
Well, that conversation didn’t go in any direction I was hoping for. I’ve had to keep so much distance from all of the princes, and what little time I’ve been able to spend away from prying eyes has been focused on my lovers.
Maybe I should have insisted on including Neven in our planning more, even with the new developments that have made our situation so much more precarious.
Although I’m still not sure that revealing Marclinus’s secret to the prince of Goric would have been a wise idea. If he let himself lash out at me so blatantly, how well will he continue to keep his control around my husband?
When I turn back toward my own vehicle, I’m relieved to see that Marc is deep in discussion with one of the marchions rather than following my conversation. If he had been watching, I don’t think he could have failed to realize that Neven was hardly welcoming, even without hearing the exact words.
Composing myself, I stroll back over just as one of the servants arrives with our platters of food. “Prince Neven wasn’t feeling well. I’ll get his input another time.”
Marc gives me a hand up back into the carriage and squeezes my fingers before releasing them. “I want to have a quick chat with Counsel Etta. Then I’ll join you for our meal.”
I manage a smile, even though my skin prickles at the thought of his guards—and their gifts—leaving with him. “Take whatever time you need. I know you have plenty of important matters to attend to.”
As I start to eat, I leave the carriage door open and gaze out toward the towering mountain range beyond the village. The houses are clustered on a low slant along the road, higher than the forests we left back in Accasy but far below the intimidating peaks that touch the clouds.
No one knows how far those eastern mountains extend. I’ve heard that some explorers have attempted to venture beyond them, but they either vanish or return reporting that the trek became impossible.
When the All-Giver abandoned our continent, horrified by our ancestors’ destructive magic, the Great God ensured we couldn’t try to follow. The mountains cut off our passage east. The storms on the vaster ocean beyond the Sunblown Sea swallow up any boats that try to sail abroad in any other direction.
For better or worse, we’re stuck with these lands alone and the patterns of rule that have developed on them. Until someone figures out a way to earn the All-Giver’s forgiveness, at least. After five centuries, it’s hard to believe that’s even possible.
With those melancholy thoughts in my head, I take another bite of bread without really tasting it. It doesn’t feel like much, churning between my teeth.
Then I swallow, and it snags in my throat.
I try to gasp, to swallow harder, but what seemed like a tiny morsel clogs my airway completely. My lungs heave with a jolt of panic. I sputter in an attempt to cough and shove myself toward the doorway with the intention of waving for help.
My gaze falls on the open door, and my long-ago lessons in basic medical care come back to me.
I yank the door toward me as I throw myself toward its upper edge. The firm surface hits my abdomen just above the swell of my belly.
My chest muscles spasm, and a cough finally explodes from my throat. The bit of bread flies from my lips and falls to the ground.
My guards are scrambling down from their perch on the carriage. Kassun’s eyes widen. “Are you all right, Your Imperial Highness?”
“I’m fine now,” I say hastily—and a little hoarsely. Both my sternum and my throat ache as I sink back into my seat.
My gaze flicks over the terrain around us again, but not as far as the mountains this time. I’m scanning every figure in uniform, whether staff or soldier, for signs of guilt.
I don’t see any. But dread congeals behind my ribs all the same.
Was that incident just an accident? Just another coincidence that I could have lost my life when my husband’s guards were too far away to sense magic being worked around—or on—me?
Or has another would-be assassin picked up the mission now that I’ve dispatched the first?