Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Aurelia
I ’m not sure I’ve ever felt truly at ease among the imperial court nobles, but this morning my mask feels especially brittle.
I smile and swallow bite after bite of breakfast, all of it tasting like ash in my mouth. I don’t show any hint of how Rochelle’s death last night is still wrenching at me.
When Emperor Tarquin stands at the head of the table to command our attention, I push the corners of my mouth higher and try not to imagine my cheeks cracking with the effort.
He raises his glass in toast. “To the three talented women who’ve risen above the rest to earn my son’s esteem.”
I lift my goblet to clink it against my neighbors’. The tinkling of glass resonates throughout the dining room.
The imperial heir gets up next, his mouth curled into a smirk. “Today is a day of rest before the final challenge tomorrow, but it’s also a chance for me and my potential brides to begin forging what may be a lifelong bond. I’ll meet with each of my ladies in private so we can get to know each other better.”
My skin creeps at the thought of what “getting to know” him might entail in his mind, but my smile stays plastered on my face.
My godlen’s message was clear. I’m on the right path.
I simply have to keep going forward, and maybe something good will come of it in the end. Even if it’s hard to imagine how any of my plans will make a difference even for myself, let alone all the people counting on me back in Accasy.
After the meal, we meander down to the gardens. Just outside the palace, Marclinus catches Leonette’s lean arm and draws her away from the rest of us. They vanish down one of the paths between the hedges.
Are all of the private chats going to happen out here, or is he setting up something different for each of us?
The question gnaws at the edges of my mind as I pick up a glass of juice from one of the servants’ trays. I need something to do with my hands.
I’m dreading more bland, fawning conversation from nobles hedging their bets and attempting to curry favor with a possible future empress, but the figure who drifts over to join me first provokes a different sort of apprehension.
Prince Neven ducks his white-blond head and then peers down at me with a slight grimace. “Good morning, Princess Aurelia.”
Well, he’s not insulting or glowering at me yet. I suppose that’s a good sign. I haven’t spoken to him since I cajoled him out of the hall of entertainments when he was on the verge of unleashing his anger on Emperor Tarquin .
That night, as soon as he realized I was just tricking him into leaving, he simply spat a few curses at me and stalked off.
“Good morning, Prince Neven,” I say, matching his even tone. “No studies today?”
He shakes his head with a flick of a glance around the garden. “It’s a day of rest for me too.”
“I hope it proves invigorating.”
His gaze slides back to me, a hint of a furrow forming between his eyebrows. His hands twitch at his sides as if he’s resisting the urge to fidget.
Finally, he speaks again, a little rougher than before. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you the other night. I know you were acting in my best interests. It’s just not always easy to see what those are in the moment… sometimes not until other people point it out to you.”
The corner of my mouth ticks upward with my first genuine smile of the day. “Your foster brothers had a few things to say, I gather.”
He shrugs with a hint of adolescent defiance, his gaze sliding to where Bastien and Lorenzo are standing together by one of the hedge sculptures. “They don’t need to fuss over me quite as much as they do. But that doesn’t mean they’re always wrong.”
“They care about you a lot. It’s nice to have that concern, even if it’s sometimes annoying. Although I suppose three older brother figures is probably a little more stifling than the one older sister I have.”
As the words leave my mouth, I realize I might have inadvertently prodded a sore spot. He lost an actual older brother to Emperor Tarquin’s cruelty ten years ago.
Neven’s expression tightens. “I have an older sister too. Back home. But I only get to see her once a year, so she can’t exactly get overbearing.”
Before I can decide whether to mention his late brother, he gives me a quizzical look. “Had your sister eased back on the hovering by the time you were older?”
I suppose I haven’t offended him, at least.
My last conversation with Soreena floats up from my memory, and my smile falters. I hope she’s not still beating herself up over failing to shield me from this fate.
Gods only know what she’d feel if she realized what I’ve actually been through just to confirm my marriage.
“Maybe a little,” I say. “I think she’ll always want to protect me—she’s simply had to recognize that there are times when she can’t. But there are benefits to having older-sibling overseers too. The support and encouragement.” I summon a quick grin to show I’m happy to take on that role as well, if he wants me to. “Good luck with your musician.”
Neven’s cheeks turn pink. He mumbles a “Thank you” before he moves on, but his posture looks more relaxed than it did when he approached me.
Perhaps I’ve given one person a little more peace than they had before.
He ambles toward his foster brothers, and I tamp down the urge to follow the same route. Last night’s recriminations and expressions of devotion have tangled into a chaotic jumble. What if their feelings have shifted all over again?
I can’t risk putting my muddled emotions on display in front of the entire court.
Instead, I wander toward a fountain with a sculpture of Prospira spilling a bounty of water and marble fruit from her extended hands. Maybe that was an unwise direction too, because looking up at the godlen of abundance reminds me of Rochelle’s dedication brand .
Before I can settle on a new destination, the noble company I anticipated begins to cluster around me. This baroness wants to know what I think of the combination of colors in a nearby flowerbed. That marchioness compliments me on my dress, even though it's one from Madam Clea's untailored stock that Melisse had to spend half an hour pinning to make sure it fit properly enough to befit a princess.
One of the viceroys tells me I handled myself admirably with the panther last night, and I admirably resist the urge to throw my drink in his face.
None of my new hangers-on give any sign that they remember someone died last night—a woman who used to be a lady and their peer. They barely seem to recognize that I wasn’t having the time of my life dancing on bleeding feet.
Possibly, as far as they’re concerned, any task that could lead to marrying the imperial heir is an honor more than a trial.
After several minutes of painful conversation, Fausta minces around the fountain toward me with a couple of her friends in tow. I tense up automatically at the sight of her bright red hair, but my smile never budges.
She smiles back at me, so wide and unassuming I’m unnerved. “It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it, Your Highness?”
I fight to keep a dry edge of disbelief out of my voice. “Yes, quite lovely.”
She adjusts the small hat perched on her head and gives the slightest of respectful curtsies. “There are so few of us left now… It wouldn’t do for us to be at each other’s throats, would it? What’s done is done. Now the best woman will win by her own strengths, as you’ve always said.”
I don’t believe she really buys into that sentiment, not for a second. Does she think I’ll lower my guard if she plays nice for a day? Or is there some trick embedded even in this sham of kindness?
My tone stays mild. “It would be wonderful if tomorrow’s trial could be all about our personal abilities.”
Fausta lets out a melodic giggle. “I know you’ll give me a challenge. You’ve pushed me to be an even better match for His Imperial Highness than I was before. I should thank you for that.”
“I’m glad my efforts have been appreciated.”
She lingers through a turn about the garden and more aimless conversation before veering off to consult with Bianca when our group crosses paths with the vicerene. Bianca aims a narrow glance my way as if she’s not even going to pretend to be on board with this supposed truce.
We move to the lawn for a series of games that are enjoyable only in that I know no one will be bleeding or dead at the end of them. I’ve just finished a round of tossing rings, which has seemed to be more about watching the ribbons twined around the silver hoops flutter in the breeze than landing them anywhere near the designated posts, when a footman approaches me.
“His Imperial Highness would see you now, Princess Aurelia.”
My turn. I nod as if I’m grateful and follow him through the garden.
He leads me all the way to the edge of the woods, where I find Marclinus waiting in a typical casual pose but with his eyes unsettlingly alert.
He cocks his head, his small smile lifting the scar through his upper lip. “Since you’ve mentioned your fondness for forestland, I thought we could take a stroll through my personal woods together. I even brought an appropriate snack.” He tosses a small silk bag in his hand. “Baked lacquernuts. Do you like them?”
They’re a childhood favorite among almost all Accasians. Just hearing the name brings a smoky sweetness of remembered flavor onto my tongue.
I’ve never seen them in the imperial palace. Did he import some specially for this occasion?
What’s he playing at?
I keep those questions to myself and amble over to join him. “I do, quite a bit. It’s generous of you to have arranged something from my old home.”
As I reach him, Marclinus sets off into the woods, clearly expecting me to keep pace. He pops one of the nuts into his mouth and offers them to me so I can pluck one out.
I suppose the fact that he’s eating from the bag at random should reassure me that they’re not doctored in any way. I force myself to select one without hesitation.
It does taste like home, the crisp yet creamy taste spreading through my mouth as I chew. Like winter nights by the big hearth in the castle’s great hall, listening to the bards sing stories with my family and friends around me.
The imperial heir takes a rambling path, skirting patches of underbrush and turning his face to meet the gusts of breeze that ripple through his golden hair. But he spends at least as much time watching me as he does absorbing the atmosphere.
“What do you like about the woods?” he asks rather abruptly.
What would be the most appealing response to that question, as far as he’s concerned? I pop another lacquernut into my mouth to buy me a little time.
If I let myself forget who I’m walking with for a moment, breathe in the fresh scents of the trees and listen to the chirps and scurrying of the wildlife we pass, it’s easier to compose my words. “I think it reminds me that there are things bigger than myself, that I’m just a piece of a much larger picture, but that picture is vibrant and full of life—all the more, the more you look for it. And spending some time away from all other concerns is good for clearing my head so I can focus on what’s most important.”
Marclinus hums. “And what would that be, Your Highness? What’s most important to you right now?”
I don’t have to think about that answer. “Proving myself worthy of you, of course. That’s all I’ve wanted since the moment I set out for Dariu.”
“ All you could possibly want?”
His tone is teasing but skeptical. I don’t want to lay it on too thick.
I give a light laugh. “I suppose that’s a bit of an exaggeration. I’ve wanted appropriate dresses to fit in at your court, and food as it’s provided, and my afternoon baths. But in terms of importance, gaining your good opinion is certainly by far at the top of the list.”
He considers my words for a few minutes of silence. I’m starting to wonder if I’m supposed to provide the next topic of conversation when he speaks again. “Not all of the court ladies have been welcoming to a newcomer from the north.”
Oh, he’s actually noticed that from his gilded seats, has he? I couldn’t read concern or accusation in his tone.
I peek at him sideways, trying to judge his expression. “I’d imagine that’s to be expected, especially when I’ve come from so far away. Most of them will never have met any Accasians at all. It’s been delightful to see them warming up to me.”
“You have no complaints to make about anyone in particular. ”
I suspect doing so would reflect worse on me than whoever I point my finger at. “No. I trust that all will work out in the end as it should. But of course I will keep my experiences in mind going forward.”
To my surprise, the imperial heir chuckles. “Accepting and yet canny. An interesting combination. What would Elox say about holding grudges?”
I allow myself a little tartness. “They aren’t grudges. It’s useful information to guide me on the best course toward a peaceful and constructive existence.”
“A very polite framing.”
He grins at me, and just in that moment, I don’t feel any malice in it. It’s as if he honestly thinks we’re sharing a joke—as if he wants to share the humor of the situation with me, rather than imposing some jape without a care what I make of it as long as I laugh on cue.
I do laugh, my mind whirling with uncertainty. Is he trying to disarm me so I’ll give something away? Set me at ease so he can throw me off balance all over again?
Or is it possible that some small part of him might be open to listening to me occasionally after all?
Naturally, the next moment he douses my flicker of hope with a harsher laugh. “I am glad it wasn’t you the panther sank its jaws into last night.”
No condolences or expressions of sympathy. Because as soon as he dismissed Rochelle as a contender for his bride, she ceased to count as a person to him.
Probably she never did. I’m not sure I ever will, even if he takes me as his wife.
My whole body goes cold. I force another titter, as if the woman who did die doesn’t matter to me either. “As am I, Your Imperial Highness.”
The rest of what Marclinus asks me about my observations of the woods and his court, I answer equally politely and mostly on instinct. Yesterday’s numbness has come over me again, detaching me from the sounds entering my ears and the movements of my mouth.
At the ringing of the city bells to mark the hour, the imperial heir leads me back to the edge of the garden. Emperor Tarquin stands several paces away by one of the carved limestone planters, as if he just happened to have walked that way at this moment. But he’s alone.
At least, he appears to be. Remembering Bastien’s comments about his host of guards, I pick out a hint of movement by the nearby hedges.
Does he go undefended even in his own bedroom? Doubtful.
Marclinus nods to his father. “I’ll see you at lunch,” he says, perhaps to both of us, and saunters off toward his court nobles.
I move to follow him, but Tarquin holds up his sinewy hand to stop me. He motions me over until I’m standing just a couple of steps away and looks me up and down. His gaze is all assessing, none of the leer I’d expect from his son.
His eyes settle on my face, as keenly penetrating as always. “Our princess of the wild north. You’ve adapted to the change in expectations well.”
So many of my expectations have been turned on their heads in the past two weeks that I’m not sure what he’s referring to. A vague answer is all that’s required anyway. “I came here to serve the imperial family as well as I’m able.”
His next remark clarifies his meaning. “You thought you’d be greeted with a wedding rather than a series of trials. But you’re close to that wedding now. I hope there’s no resentment over the tests we’ve required or their lack of forewarning. ”
Resentment? Try bone-deep revulsion and seething rage.
I push my mouth into yet another false smile. “Your Imperial Eminences must evaluate who will make an ideal partner as you see fit. It’s a relief to know that after the final trial, there should be no doubt of who that partner is.”
“Indeed.” Tarquin smiles back at me, but I don’t feel any warmth from it. “You are well-spoken enough to sit beside my son’s throne. I’m sure of that already.”
He motions for me to continue through the gardens, so I go. My knotted stomach leaves no room for actual relief.
No matter how much of his approval I’ve earned, all it will take is one wrong step, and he’ll throw me away. Even after Marclinus and I have said our vows.
Everything depends on how well I play this last stage of the game.