Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aurelia
I dab a little more of the gel I’ve brewed onto the inside of the armband and step back to study my work from a distance. Does the gleam look a tad purple-ish now?
Maybe, but I don’t think it’ll draw attention from anyone unless they’re going out of their way to spot an odd hue. Given my husband’s usual clothing, it should simply look like a reflection of his royal purple outfit.
A breath rushes out of me with a sag of my shoulders. I got out my cauldron the instant we made it back to the palace after the pledging ceremony. My gift has presented me with a concoction that I believe will stir up feelings of boldness and sink in through the skin rather than needing to be ingested.
I haven’t had time to experiment. I’m lucky my maids didn’t question the trail of steam rising from behind my trunk while they pinned my hair in a more elaborate style.
Once this layer dries, I’ll apply one more coating, and then?—
My bedroom door whips open with a thud of impatient feet. Linus stops just past the threshold, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes lit with an unnerving fervor. “You do have it, don’t you? Your godlen came through?”
My skin jumped at his sudden entrance, but I manage to hold my face in its calm expression. “I believe so. It’s difficult to be certain, unraveling divine visions?—”
“Yes, yes.” Linus stalks closer, his gaze fixed on the steel armband resting on top of my trunk. Thank the gods I tucked away my brewing equipment already so there’s no evidence of the enhancements I added.
I dip my head in an obliging gesture. “Did you still want me to present it to you at the feast? I thought it would make a grander statement that way than offering it in private.”
Linus’s mouth twists with obvious inner conflict. His hands flex, and then he steps back. “Yes. That will be much more impressive. I’ll see that one of the pages brings a velvet cushion to rest it on—you can bring it straight to the table after most of us are seated. Well, come along then.”
My stomach flips over. “Are we dining already?” I’d hoped that my gambit would buy me enough time to add the second layer of the gel.
Linus tsks his tongue and motions me toward the door. “The Lavirians start their feasting early so we can continue to enjoy the meal for as long as possible. We only dined late yesterday because of our late arrival. There’s a special entrance for royals; you can compose yourself there.”
But I can’t grab the pot of cooled gel I’ve hidden between the trunks, not while he’s watching me so avidly.
Swallowing hard, I lift the armband gingerly and follow my husband out of the room.
I suppose it’s a blessing that they weren’t starting dinner the moment we returned from the square, before I had any chance to doctor my replica at all.
Linus manages to convey his orders with considerable urgency while we hustle to the main palace. When we reach the small but silk-and-gold smothered private parlor that leads into the dining room, a page is waiting there with a velvet cushion as requested. It’s imperial purple, of course.
At least that’ll match the gleam of my enhancement.
Linus peeks into the dining room and then pats me on the head as if I was a dog. “Wait by the door until you hear me call for you. I want all of the nobles to see just how great a prize I’ve won.”
He’s won? What in the realms did he have to do with it other than ordering me around?
I bite back that cutting remark and bob my head again in agreement.
As soon as he’s stepped into the dining room, I position myself next to the door. Boisterous voices carry through as Linus greets various friends and colleagues.
After a few moments, a hush falls over the room. My husband must have motioned for silence, because his voice rings out clearly into the space.
“If I had to be far from home when celebrating the day of my birth, I can’t imagine a better reception. Look at all this finery our hosts have prepared! I want to see you all digging in without a care in the world. But first, my wife has her very special gift to present, so I shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
At that cue, I nudge open the door and stride toward the head table with the cushion held out in front of me. The armband glints under the vast chandeliers overhead. A flood of rich smells washes over me, delectable but clogging my nose.
Linus is standing by the tallest chair in the middle of the table. The empty one next to it is presumably for me. I walk straight to him and dip into a small curtsy as I present him with the supposed relic for all to see.
A grin stretches Linus’s lips. He plucks up the armband and examines its etchings. They don’t appear to provoke any suspicion.
He shrugs off his jacket, shoves the sleeve of his dress shirt nearly to his shoulder, and slides the band up until it hugs the substantial bulge of his bicep.
I give an ingratiating smile, as if nothing could make me happier than watching him enjoy the gift. How long will it take the gel to sink through his skin and enter his nervous system? How quickly will he expect to feel some effect?
Linus gazes down at the armband for a few beats before tugging his sleeve down to cover it. As he drops into his chair, a slyer grin curves his mouth. He looks satisfied for now.
Perhaps my interrupted efforts were enough.
As I settle into my own seat, my gaze sweeps over the room around us—and jars to a halt on a narrow table set off to the side of the opulent room. Ten children, their faces recently scrubbed and bodies decked out in fancy clothing that many of them are itching at as if they can’t quite get comfortable, sit there with a clear view of their emperor.
Linus is taking his “guidance” over the city’s children to another level. Is he simply hoping to impress them with his grandeur so they’ll be even more in awe of him—and more willing to do his bidding?
I suspect Queen Benvida is none too pleased with that possibility. Her carefully cajoling voice reaches my ears from where she’s sitting at Linus’s other side.
“We can certainly take your protégés under our wing here at the palace once you continue your travels. We’ll ensure they receive?—”
Linus is already dismissing her offer with a flick of his hand. “My representatives will see to their continued cultivation. They should be guided in a way that serves both them and the empire best.”
But mostly the empire, naturally.
My husband glances at Tribune Valerisse, who’s been allowed a spot at our exclusive table and who’s been following his conversation. “There will be no citizens more loyal, Your Imperial Majesty,” she promises.
Linus chuckles and turns his attention to his food. The tribune’s gaze slides over me, the faint warmth in her expression vanishing.
Gods only know what I’d have to do to impress her.
Next to her, High Commander Axius catches my gaze. He offers one of his thin smiles, but there’s a deferential note in his voice. “I understand you were engaged in your quest since early this morning, Your Imperial Highness. I must give credit to your fortitude—and your close connection to your godlen.”
I think he means that praise—and it was very clearly a compliment. Will wonders never cease?
I relax into my seat a little more and give him a genuine smile in return. “I honor both our deities and our emperor as well as I’m able to.”
If Valerisse’s lips curl with a hint of a sneer, I pretend not to see it. I suppose she doesn’t think much of any strength she can’t imagine being used in the middle of a battlefield.
The Lavirian royal chefs ply their trade well. I chew morsel after morsel, wanting to sample every dish possible. Whether meat or vegetable or grain, each bite melts in my mouth with a symphony of flavor. By the time the desserts are brought around, my stomach is achingly full despite my best attempts at moderation.
Linus looks quite pleased with his birthday feast. Throughout the meal, he raises his wine goblet in several toasts, mostly to himself, and laughs louder every time he drains it.
Will he arrange to secret a plate back to his brother, or will Marc be dining on travel rations tonight? It isn’t much of a celebration for the other twin.
I’ve fallen into a lull of calm when my husband abruptly shoves to his feet. “High Commander,” he calls out. “I think I may just be able to beat you at swordplay now. Indulge me on my birthday! A sword—someone get me a sword.”
As the palace staff scramble to find Linus an appropriate weapon, Axius stands with obvious reluctance. His own sword hangs at his hip in a decorative scabbard to fit the occasion but no less honed in battle for it. “Your Imperial Majesty?—”
“No, no, I don’t want to hear it!” Linus swings the sword he’s been handed through the air, nearly cutting off the ear of a nearby marchionissa, and bounds around the table with drunken enthusiasm. “Come on now, man. Draw your weapon!”
Axius gazes grimly at his emperor, standing slightly taller and noticeably broader than the younger man’s well-built frame. Even the measured movement of reaching for his sword’s grip radiates the power and experience he’s built over the years.
Linus smirks at him eagerly with a few more swipes of his blade through the air. Maybe I went a little overboard when it came to inciting boldness.
Or not. The high commander draws his sword with a hiss of steel, and something twitches in Linus’s expression. His shoulders tense, as if he’s held himself back from flinching.
His next laugh sounds sharper. “Let’s have at it. A little entertainment for the court.”
He jabs at his military advisor, and Axius parries the blow. Their blades clang together, back and forth. Even to my little-trained eyes, it’s obvious that the high commander is holding back.
Linus presses forward with a reckless strike, and I think Axius fumbles his sword intentionally. It drops from his hand as if Linus’s attack overwhelmed him.
The military man holds up his hands. “You’ve come a long way since our childhood lessons.”
“Indeed I have!” Linus waves his sword triumphantly, but his knuckles have paled where he’s clutching the grip. “Where’s my glass? I should drink to that.”
He tosses back another serving of wine while making joking jabs at the nobles around him. I poke at the remains of my dessert, starting to brace in anticipation of how else he might want to celebrate this occasion.
Farther down the table, Bianca stirs. When I glance up, her gaze holds mine for a moment with a pensive cast. Then she gets to her feet and sashays over to Linus.
“How spirited you are tonight, Your Imperial Majesty,” she coos, draping her arm across his shoulders. “It should be your birthday every day.”
Something twists in my chest with a twinge of understanding. She’s recognized that his mood is off—and she’s trying to draw his attention to her so it won’t land on me once the evening is over.
I can’t even thank her, not in the middle of her ploy.
Linus guffaws and taps Bianca’s jaw. “Indeed it should be. And how can my spirits not be high with so much beauty around me. Why don’t you sit back where we placed you so I can gaze upon you properly.”
The vicerine curtsies obligingly but lowers her voice. “We could always arrange a more private viewing…”
“Ah, don’t be so selfish as to deny me all this wonderful company,” Linus retorts, with an edge in his voice that stiffens my spine.
Bianca must hear it too, because she retreats reluctantly. I tip my head in acknowledgment as she goes by, hoping she knows I appreciate her attempt.
The din of voices and laughter has set off an ache pulsing in my forehead when Linus finally appears to tire of the feast. He grasps my hand to yank me to my feet. “Thank you all for another year of loyalty! Now that you’ve all tended to me, I must tend to my wife.”
A round of chuckles follows us out the door. Heat pricks at my cheeks at the thought of the Lavirian royal family hearing that overly bald remark.
Linus ushers me across the courtyard between the palaces and through the halls to my chambers. His fingers clamp tighter around mine. By the time we reach the door, my knuckles are stinging, but I don’t dare complain.
My husband drags me inside. The moment the door has thudded into place behind us, he wrenches at his shirt and tears off the armband.
His face hardens into a mask of resentful fury. He shakes the steel band at me. Spittle flecks the air with his words. “There’s something wrong with it, or you brought me the wrong thing. This isn’t what I asked for. What game are you playing?”
His boldness must have failed him when faced with an Axius ready for battle, when Linus assumed he’d feel impervious.
I grope for an answer. “I swear that’s the relic Elox led me to. I’m sure I followed his signs correctly. Perhaps we simply don’t know exactly how it should work?—”
Linus smacks me across the head with the band, cutting off my words. I stumble to the side, pain much starker than my headache reverberating through my skull.
That’ll bruise, but the wound won’t show through my hair. No doubt he aimed his blow with that goal in mind.
“I did my best, husband,” I say with a wobble in my voice. “We can investigate further?—”
“I’m not trusting you with such a task again. You failed at the one thing I asked of you. Were you laughing to yourself when Axius deigned to play-fight me?”
He hits me again across the other side of my head. As my mind reels, he snatches my elbow and yanks me toward him.
His voice snarls harsh and cold in my ear. “You will not cross me like this again. I own you. Every breath you take, every pulse of blood through your veins, continues because I will it. And now you will suffer for your disrespect.”
He hauls at my arm in a sudden, brutal motion. With an audible pop , my shoulder sears so viciously that I have to clamp my teeth against a scream. As it is, a thin cry leaks out.
Linus drops my elbow. With the sagging of my now useless arm, my shoulder throbs even harder. The burning sensation slices all the way through to my chest.
I think he’s dislocated the joint.
Tears I can’t restrain well in my eyes. It’s all I can do not to outright sob.
Linus marches away from me to the door. He barges outside.
“Leave her be,” he commands the guards. “You don’t touch her or talk to her, and you don’t let anyone in to see her—no medics. She has a lesson to learn.”