Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Aurelia
T he letter from Medic Tevio in the town of Garince arrives on the tray Rochelle brings with the hot water for my morning tea. She doesn’t comment on it as I set the leaves steeping, but her gaze keeps ticking toward it.
I’m not going to draw out her suspense. As soon as I’ve put away my tea box, I unseal the letter and scan the sparse contents inside.
Whatever he made of my careful letter to him, he obviously understood the need for discretion. He assures me that as far as he’s concerned, “all is well” with my newly hired maid, and he has no apprehensions at all about the position she’s taken. If I should want her health re-assessed, he’ll be right there in Garince whenever we might stop by.
A clever man as well as a kind one. My friend has good taste .
When I look up at her, her freckled face is so lit with hopeful anticipation that any twinge of envy I might feel melts away beneath the joy I can share with her. “He’s made it clear that his feelings for you remain the same and he’ll wait until I can return you to Garince.”
Rochelle’s cheeks flush alongside her sigh of relief. “Thank the gods.” She taps her fingers down her front to emphasize the remark of divine gratitude. “Knowing that, I can wait however long it takes too. I don’t want to leave in any way that’ll cause you trouble.”
“I’m sure we can find a reasonable excuse. Once Marclinus is married, there’ll necessarily be changes in the arrangement of the palace staff.”
I just have to ensure I’m the one marrying him.
I arrive at breakfast holding tight to that goal and smile at the imperial heir as if I’m nothing but delighted to see him. He appears to be in one of his milder moods, offering chuckles rather than raucous laughter and often simply sitting back in his chair to observe the conversations around him.
When we retire to the hall of entertainments with a sudden rain shower pattering against the windows, he ambles over to observe me while flanking his father.
Emperor Tarquin studies me with his piercing gaze. “You had correspondence from Garince this morning, Princess Aurelia. I’m surprised you’d be familiar with anyone in that far-flung place.”
Of course he’s informed of every letter that passes in and out of the palace by official means. That’s exactly why we had to be so cautious. I wouldn’t be surprised if he read it himself and then resealed it.
I dip my head in respectful acknowledgment. “Since the former Lady Rochelle has never carried out maid duties before, I wanted to be sure she had no infirmities I should be aware of when assigning her responsibilities. It wouldn’t do if she embarrassed me with a weakness I wasn’t prepared for. She gave me the name of the medic who’s attended to her family so I could request his opinion.”
It should sound like a sensible enough story. There’s no reason for Tarquin to suspect Rochelle of a romantic entanglement with the man.
He hums to himself thoughtfully. “How very thorough of you. Were you satisfied with his assessment?”
“Quite. It seems she has no previous issues with her health that should interfere with any work I might require of her.”
“Excellent,” Marclinus says. He’s toying with his dagger again the way he sometimes likes to do, spinning it slowly between his fingers. The flash of the blade makes my throat tighten, even though he’s never carried out any of his ladies’ executions himself.
Emperor Tarquin lifts his voice as if he intends to draw the attention of others beyond our small conference. “You haven’t had any missives from Accasy thus far.”
Where is he going with that point—and why does he want to bring anyone else into the conversation? Several of the court nobles standing nearby glance up at his comment and drift closer to us to follow the discussion. Among them, Bianca offers me a typical smirk and rests her hand on Marclinus’s arm.
The emperor stays focused on me. I’m not sure what response he’s looking for, but honesty is always safest where possible. “It’s a long journey from our capital. It’s doubtful that my former maid has even reached my family to confirm my safe arrival yet. I look forward to writing to them to inform them of my happiness here once I’ve earned your and your son’s full approval.”
A glint of challenge lights in Marclinus’s gray eyes. “You’re sure that you will, it seems?”
I bob into a partial curtsy. “I can only endeavour to do my best. But I know this is where I’m meant to be. If I fail to prove that, I’ll deserve my fate.”
He lets out a short bark of laughter. “So very yielding.”
His father’s gaze turns more intent. “I wonder if we should thank your dedication to Elox for that part of your temperament, or if it’s simply common for Accasians to take such a submissive attitude? I’ve heard that your people sometimes wander off into the woods when they feel unwell and let the wilderness take them as it will.”
Bianca giggles as if this is the funniest idea she’s ever heard.
I pretend not to notice the implied insult in the emperor’s words. “That’s an old tradition, mainly among those who are elderly and feel they’ve lived their full life already. It’s not very common anymore.”
In Accasy, it’s seen as taking control of your fate rather than submitting to it—deciding that you’re ready to go—but I doubt Tarquin will appreciate me contradicting his interpretation.
“It is fascinating to hear how things are done in other places,” Marclinus says, although the laziness of his tone hardly gives the impression of avid interest. “I’ve been honored to know that Accasians include portraits of my father in your temples to pray to him alongside the gods.”
Bianca isn’t the only one who titters at that comment. I will my stance to stay relaxed despite a flare of irritation.
Some of our temples do hold an alcove dedicated to the current emperor—but only because the invading forces forced the change, insisting that we needed the additional reminder of who we should thank for our “acceptance” into the empire given our distance from its heart.
None of us prays to Tarquin’s visage unless there’s a soldier watching to take offense if we don’t.
It would be deeply unwise to mention any of that. I keep my voice even. “Indeed, we have the utmost respect for our benefactors.”
The emperor speaks up in his dry voice. “I’ve been surprised that for all your rugged landscapes, your workers haven’t proven hardier. So many of them end up faltering in their jobs, at least under our watch. Perhaps their passive nature has left them without much ambition to strive to do their best.”
With that outright attack on my people’s character, I recognize what they’re after. This is another small test, seeing whether they can provoke me into arguing on my country’s behalf.
Confirming that I’ll bow to their opinions even when it comes to the people who matter most to me.
As much as I want to retort that they push the workers they wrench from Accasy far harder than they do their own citizens, that so many of our ambitions are squashed by the empire’s demands for money and manpower rather than any lack on our part, I can’t. For the sake of those same people.
To serve them later, I have to denigrate them now.
My mouth tastes bitter, but I lower my eyes as if ashamed. “That could be so. We have tended to live fairly simple lives.”
“I’ve been glad to see you’re not so simple-minded,” Marclinus remarks with another spin of his dagger. “That father of yours—we left him in charge of a straightforward bridge-building project, and he managed to ruin it in a matter of weeks. Not the brightest of kings, is he?”
I can’t stop my teeth from setting on edge. The bridge in question was far from straightforward—I remember Father venting to Mother about the ridiculousness of the Darium representatives’ demands, with no consideration for the practicalities of our landscape.
The project failed because of their own idiocy. Or perhaps they wanted it to fail so they could hold the fact over our heads for some other purpose.
And if I suggest as much, it might be the last thing I say before Marclinus’s blade slashes through my flesh.
I hope I’ve smoothed enough of the strain out of my words for my audience to miss it. “He has never been called brilliant.”
The imperial heir guffaws, and a ripple of laughter passes through the gathered nobles. I reach toward my inner calm.
The cool, still space in the center of me no longer feels quite so serene. I’m tarnishing the memories of the majestic forests and cozy hearths with every slight my hosts force me to agree with.
Will they not be satisfied until they’ve torn apart every bit of who I am?
The answer comes to me as instinctively as breathing.
No, they won’t. What are the trials for if not to break us down until nothing remains but our dedication to serving the empire and its rulers?
But it does no one any good if I die for honesty, even if I’m dying inside at the lies.
After a couple more taunting remarks about my homeland, Marclinus appears to bore of the game and saunters away with Bianca hanging on to one arm and a marchionissa I don’t know on the other. Emperor Tarquin lingers for a moment as if he’s searching for the thoughts I’m hiding behind my carefully tranquil expression.
“One who knows her place will always find a good fit,” he says.
He walks off in the opposite direction, leaving me wondering whether that was a compliment or a warning.
Behind my placid mask, my spirit has frayed. I exchange a few more nods and smiles and a warm greeting with one of the baronissas who strolled with me yesterday, but every gesture and word feels more brittle than the last.
I can’t afford to snap. Not when I’m so close to my goal.
As soon as I’m sure my departure won’t appear to be caused by the conversation about Accasy, I take my leave. To my relief, I find my bedroom empty. I’ve always told both Melisse and Rochelle that there’s no need for them to attend to me between breakfast and lunch.
I flop down on the bed and squeeze my eyes shut against the burn of threatening tears.
I’m stronger than this. I know my purpose. I’ve already endured so much worse.
Yet every incident I’ve faced here has chipped away at my foundations before I’ve had time to re-fortify them, like Fausta bashing my not-quite-healed leg yesterday.
How much longer can I go on before the resolve that keeps me steady starts to disintegrate beneath me?
I’ve only taken a few deep breaths when a knock thumps against the door. My heart leaps and plummets with dread.
What now?
I force myself to get up and walk closer so my wary voice will be heard through the thick wood. “Who is it?”
There’s no answer other than a lighter rap of knuckles against the surface. Abruptly, I can picture the figure on the other side .
I open the door to meet Prince Lorenzo’s gaze, turned even darker than usual with worry. He makes a motion asking if he can come in.
My first impulse is to shake my head and close the door again. I’ve been keeping more distance from the princes since the last trial for good reason. I can’t let them shake my focus or my conviction.
I won them over as allies for good reason as well, though. It wouldn’t do to outright push them away now that they’re on my side.
And, gods smite me, it’d be nice to speak to someone without having to pretend I’m happy here.
I step back to let him enter.
As soon as the door has swung shut, Lorenzo touches my cheek with a brief caress. The brush of his fingertips sends both a bloom of warmth and a shiver of uncertainty through my nerves.
His hands sketch through the air, drawing a clear enough picture of what he wants to convey. I heard what the emperor and Marclinus said. It was awful. You shouldn’t have to listen to them.
My mouth twists. “But I do.”
He frowns in return. You’re not okay.
I splay my hands in a helpless gesture. “I’ll get through it. I always have. It’s not as if how I feel about the situation makes a difference.”
I care. Lorenzo casts about before his gaze comes back to me. His frustration shows in the brusqueness of his next gestures. But I can’t protect you. What would help? Do you want to go outside?
I shake my head. “I’d rather not be around anyone else right now. I mean, anyone I’d have to put on a false front with. I appreciate that you’re trying. ”
You could talk. I’ll listen.
“I don’t know what else there is to say.” I look down at my hands, my mouth twisting. “I just… I don’t want to lose myself completely. And it’s starting to feel like I’m coming so close to the edge.”
Lorenzo touches my chin to bring my attention back to him. He turns his fingers in a motion I’ve come to recognize as meaning himself and the other princes. My foster brothers and I stay strong by staying together. I’ll stand with you too.
I don’t know how to answer the devotion in his message. I don’t know how I’ve earned it.
The words blurt out of me unbidden. “You don’t have to. I wouldn’t have expected?—”
He makes a rough sound and jerks his hand in an emphatic motion. I’m here.
He slips his fingers around my elbow and, when I don’t resist, gathers me in a gentle embrace. I tip my head against his shoulder, fresh tears prickling at the backs of my eyes. His warm, tangy scent fills my lungs, reminding me of the summer breeze over the ocean back home.
The logical part of my mind tells me I should put a stop to this. I shouldn’t toe the line of temptation any farther than I already have.
But the tenderness of Lorenzo’s embrace smooths out the cracks that’ve formed in my center of peace. It’s easier to feel like myself when I know at least one other person in this place sees me as I am.
As the ache of loss melts, sharper pang takes its place, running straight down my chest to spark heat between my thighs.
I’m so tired of all these games, of pretending I want what I don’t and that I don’t want what I do.
In a few days, I’ll either be dead or chained to a man I hate for the rest of my life. A man who was flaunting his lovers in front of me less than an hour ago.
How could anyone say it’s wrong for me to pursue my own desires before I’ve even made a full commitment to him? This might be the last chance I ever get. A little taste of romance to carry me through the long years ahead.
It might be temporary, a sham of anything you could call a real relationship, but at least it’ll be mine.
I ease back from Lorenzo just far enough to look up at him. He meets my gaze, teasing his fingers into my hair. Hunger smolders behind the concern in his eyes, but he doesn’t lean in.
He’s letting me make the choice of where I want this moment to lead. Somehow that makes me even surer.
I bob up on my toes and meld my mouth to his. With a hitch of breath, Lorenzo kisses me back hard.
The moment we’ve started, it’s hard to imagine we could ever stop. Like I’m drunk on him and parched for more.
As one kiss blurs into the next, he strokes his fingers down the side of my neck, sparking tingles in their wake. There’s nothing but confidence in the way he cups my breast now, drawing a gasp out of me with one firm swivel of his thumb.
My body sways toward him of its own accord. He trails his hand down to my waist and tugs my hips closer against his. His teeth nick my lower lip before grazing over my jaw and down my neck to follow the same path as his fingers.
Every inch of my skin has lit up. I grasp his hair, his shoulder, whimpering when he sucks hard on the crook of my neck. My legs tremble with the rush of sensation.
Lorenzo’s hand teases down my thigh and back up again, and I clutch him harder through another tremor. Then he’s lowering me onto the thick rug so we’re kneeling together .
He kisses me on the mouth again, long and so intense my breath shakes when we part. A heated sort of determination solidifies in his expression.
He guides me back on my ass and slides his hand up my calf beneath the skirt of my gown. My pulse hiccups with a mix of excitement and fear.
Just how many lines am I going to cross this morning?
As he reaches my knee, my lips part with an instinctive protest—and Lorenzo raises his other hand. He holds my gaze firmly, spelling out his intentions with emphatic gestures.
Only for you. I’ll make you feel good.
The promise reminds me of Raul offering to distract me from my pain here in this room just days ago. But Lorenzo doesn’t look like he’s trying to claim a prize or prove his superiority.
He wants to give me this one thing that he can.
I shift back on my hands, my heart beating fast. Giving him a chance to show exactly what he has in mind.
If I change my mind and tell him to stop, he will. I’m sure of that much.
Lorenzo smiles so brightly it sends a flutter through my chest. He strokes his fingers down to my ankle and up to my knee again. A giddy shiver races straight to my core in their wake.
I was about to slow him down, and now all I want is for him to get on with it.
Slowly, as if giving me plenty of time to reconsider, he eases my dress up to my thighs. As he bares my lower legs, he presses a kiss to my calf, to the side of my knee.
His hand travels higher, up over my outer thigh. When he reaches the edge of my drawers, he reverses the caress, back to my knee, then repeats it .
The silk of my skirt pools around my hips. Lorenzo skims his fingers over my thigh to the more sensitive inner flesh. Another wave of shivers shoots to my sex.
At his nudge, I let my knees splay. He must be able to see how damp my drawers are. His teasing fingers drift ever closer, until I can’t restrain a whine of need.
As if in answer, Lorenzo leans over to claim my lips. While he kisses me, his hand moves to the crotch of my drawers.
With the first caress between my legs, I can’t hold back a moan. Lorenzo absorbs it into the kiss and strokes me again.
Every caress of his fingers sets off a deeper pulse of pleasure—and need. I find myself pushing into his touch, throbbing for more.
He delves beneath my drawers to slide his fingers against my slick flesh skin to skin. I whimper, clinging to his shirt and rocking with his movements.
Lorenzo gives me one more mind-reeling kiss. Then he positions himself between my legs and lowers his whole head to the apex of my thighs.
He drags my drawers down just in time to press his mouth to my sex. Bliss sweeps through my body in a torrent.
My hand whips up to muffle my cry as well as I can. I sag back against the rug, boneless and writhing with every motion of the prince’s lips against my flesh.
He focuses the attentions of his mouth on the most sensitive spot above my folds while his fingers dip into my opening. With each pump, they slide a little deeper.
Pleasure soars through my veins. I can barely feel the ground beneath me.
All of his bliss is only for me, just as he said. He hasn’t removed a single piece of clothing, hasn’t made any move to demand the same pleasure for himself .
Through the giddy haze, emotion swells around my heart.
We’ve come so far, but all at once, it doesn’t feel like enough.
Fuck lines, fuck caution. Just one time, I’m not going to hold back.
I curl my fingers into Lorenzo’s coarse hair. At my tug, he glances up at me with a look of such satisfaction a heady shudder passes through me.
I trail my fingers down his face. “I want all of you.”