Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Aurelia
T he open-top carriage makes a circuit of the square and several of the surrounding streets without any further bloody incident. Marclinus keeps up the same smile through the entire route: steady but subdued in recognition of his loss.
As the citizens we pass call out condolences and well-wishes to their new emperor, a merrier light glints in his eyes. They wouldn’t notice it, but I’m far too familiar with my husband’s moods.
He’s reveling in their adulation, enjoying every moment of this tour of mourning.
I’m sure he feels some grief over his father’s death. I’ve seen hints of it over the past two days, slipping through his unflappable front.
But I wouldn’t be surprised if on the whole he counts this turn of events as more of a win than a loss .
When we reach the wide street that leads the last short distance to the palace, a line of soldiers holds the lingering crowd well back from our procession. With a glance around us, I decide it’s safe to talk. I didn’t intend to bring up the comments I overheard from the one soldier, but it would seem careless to ignore the aggressive act that followed.
I tug at my skirt, where the bloody patch is now only faintly damp. “Some of the people aren’t totally happy to see me. I suppose your father’s funeral wasn’t the most ideal circumstance for an introduction.”
Marclinus makes a dismissive sound, swiping his hand past the small scar on his upper lip. “They’re upset, and that riles them up.”
Does he really think it’s reasonable for a civilian to have thrown animal guts at their empress?
“I’m also a stranger to them, from a country they know little about,” I venture. Accasy is the farthest flung of the empire’s territories, off in what many refer to as the “wild north.” I doubt nobles from back home have ventured as far as this city since my great-grandfather’s brother came as a hostage decades before most of these people were even born.
“If that worries them, you’ll soon cure them of it. You’ve adapted quickly.” Marclinus shoots me a slightly wider smile, though the cool evaluation in his gaze divests it of much comfort. “They didn’t really know my mother either, you know. She was Darium but from one of the border provinces, not all that often at court. But she earned so much devotion that less than a year after my father took the throne, the common people created a new festival to celebrate her and present her with gifts.”
His gaze turns briefly vague in recollection. “I still have the wreath crown they made for her, woven with leaves from every type of tree throughout the country. I never got to see her wear it, and it’s dried and faded now, but it must have been something to watch her presented with it.”
I hesitate. Marclinus lost his mother due to complications of his birth. He never knew her at all. As callous as he can be, it feels like sensitive territory to tread into.
He does me the favor of changing the subject himself, adjusting his position so he sprawls in a more typical languid pose on the seat across from me. “In any case, you needn’t worry about your safety. Your host of guards is nearly as gifted as my own. If anything hard enough to do damage had been flung at you, they’d have sensed it coming and intervened. And the new clothes commissioned for you are godlen-blessed to deflect any weapon, which will protect most of your vital areas.”
His mention of “nearly” reminds me of the other talent I’ve heard some of the palace guards possess. “What of attacks by magic?”
Marclinus snorts. “I doubt you’ll need to worry about that. We don’t hire staff with gifts that could pose a significant threat, and anytime you’re out in the wider world, you should be with me. A few of my guards can recognize magic the moment it’s invoked. They’ll shield both of us if you’re nearby.”
My own guards can’t pick up on the working of a magical gift, then. That’s good to know, considering I expect to be working my gift quite a bit in the privacy of my chambers. I’d rather not face questions about my activities from the soldiers stationed outside my door.
The carriage pulls through the grand imperial gate and draws to a stop in front of the immense palace’s front stairs. As the footmen hustle around to set down a step so we can disembark, Marclinus and I get up.
My husband slides his arm around me and gives my ass a firmer pat than his brief grope during the funeral. “I have a few things to attend to before dinner, but I look forward to what’ll come afterward. We’ll finally be able to enjoy our first marital night.”
He hops down from the carriage ahead of me and strides off into the palace with a few guards trailing behind him at a discreet distance.
I descend as quickly as my long skirt allows, the contents of my stomach curdling at his reminder.
Between the shock of Emperor Tarquin’s death, the hasty funeral preparations, and the private rites, I’ve managed to avoid the expected activities of my wedding night twice. It’d have been a little much to expect that reprieve to continue.
I need to be prepared.
I hustle through the palace halls to my newly-appointed apartment in the imperial family’s section of the palace. My thumb slides over the rippled surface of the gold and sapphire ring I brought with me from Accasy.
It held the concoction that killed Tarquin within its hidden crevice. I had time yesterday to clean it and refill it with a potion of a different nature.
Unfortunately, when I was preparing for my marriage, I had no idea just how much I’d recoil from the thought of enduring Marclinus’s intimate attentions. I only brewed a small amount of the concoction that’ll give me some grace, in case of extreme circumstances.
How could I have known how extreme even the essentials of palace life would so quickly become?
The very thought of him using my body to take his pleasure makes me want to vomit—gods only know how I’d respond to the reality of it. I don’t know if I can convincingly fake the appearance of the sort of eager lover Marclinus will expect.
He clearly thinks highly of his seductive appeal. None of the court ladies I’ve watched him fondle have done anything to dissuade his confidence.
There’s enough of the drug in my ring to protect me tonight, but there’s no telling how frequently he’ll want to enjoy full marital relations. If I want to spare myself that awfulness and the chance of revealing my true feelings, I’ll need a plentiful supply.
I prod my gift, focusing my mind on my sense of purpose: a “cure” of sorts for carnal urges, in a roundabout way. Images of the ingredients I need rise up with a relieving familiarity.
As much time as I spent perfecting this concoction, it’s good to have the confirmation that my memory is correct. I didn’t dare write down the recipe.
Technically, the magical gift Elox blessed me with in exchange for my sacrificed spleen is only meant to help me craft actual cures and salves. It just happens that nearly any purpose can be presented as a healing one if you think of it in the right way.
Even the poison that shut down Tarquin’s body would have been beneficial to someone in the throes of a contradictory disease.
Of course, I sweep into my bedroom to find my two new maids waiting for me. Jinalle and Eusette dip into matching curtsies.
They’re a more welcome sight than the first maid assigned to me at the palace would have been. Melisse let my rivals bribe her so they could ruin my belongings during the trials. As soon as I moved to this apartment yesterday morning, I informed the palace head of staff that I needed a different attendant.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that an empress is accorded at least two, but it does mean twice as many curious eyes I need to be wary of .
“Welcome, Your Imperial Highness,” Jinalle chirps, pushing her pale hair behind her ears in an anxious gesture. “Is there anything we can do for you?”
I glance down at my soiled dress. Actually, there is. I can change the elaborate imperial outfits much faster with help.
I offer them a quick smile. “I need a new gown. Something we can get on without needing to redo my hair, ideally.” The upswept styles expected of married Darium women are a lot more of a hassle to arrange as well.
The two maids spring into action, easing off the black mourning dress and retrieving another from my expansive new wardrobe with only a few innocuous remarks. They’re being nothing short of kind and perfectly polite, but as they maneuver me into the gown, an ache wraps around my heart.
For a short time, I had another maid here. A fellow noblewoman I took on in supposed disgrace, but really as a ploy to save her life.
But Emperor Tarquin and his son’s sadistic schemes still took Lady Rochelle’s life in the end.
I’ve lost both my only true friend here and the men I was falling for. The bedroom around me glitters with gold and shines with satin, but its vastness only emphasizes how alone I am—far from my real home, in the midst of so much brutality.
A faint burn forms behind my eyes. I blink it away with a determined swallow.
I have to hold tight to my purpose and let it keep me steady as it has so far.
When the new dress is in place, my gaze veers to the trunks brought over from the lovely but not quite as immense room I was given before my marriage. The steps of the needed brewing flit through my mind again.
One downside of being empress: it’d look particularly odd if I marched right into the palace kitchens .
I offer my maids another smile. “Thank you so much. I’d like to take a bit of fresh air and then some rest on my own before dinner. Could one of you bring a pot of boiled water and a bowl of walnuts and leave them on the table? I could use some tea and a snack in my repose.”
Eusette bobs her ruddy head with an eager, “Of course, Your Imperial Highness!” and they both scamper out of the room.
As soon as they’re gone, I retrieve my tea box. The upper layer with its multitude of dried leaves and herbs lifts to reveal the more potent ingredients for my craft below.
Worrying at my lower lip with my teeth, I check the packets and vials to confirm what I already have on hand. There’s a decent amount of the rarest ingredients, but depending on Marclinus’s enthusiasm, I may need to make up some excuses to venture into the marketplace before the month is over.
For now, I have everything except for a couple of other common items I expected to find easily at hand should I need them, those best worked with fresh.
Inventing my excuses in my head, I stride out of my room again prepared for the two guards stationed outside to question me. It turns out that the position of empress does come with a few benefits. They simply trail several paces behind me as if assuming whatever I’m up to, it must be for a good reason.
I descend the stairs to the palace gardens. Conveniently, I don’t need to look odd poking around in the herb garden around the side of the building. Carnella is a popular garden plant throughout the continent, and I’ve already seen plenty of its crimson blooms popping up amid the beds. I meander past them, bending to snap off a few of the flowers and tucking them into the pouch on my belt.
The silvervein vine clinging to one of the trellises offers plenty of leaves for me to pluck. I’m just slipping those away too when I turn and find myself face to face with Vicerine Bianca.
The noblewoman looks me up and down with a bemused expression. Her own mourning clothes cling to the generous curves of her voluptuous body. The black fabric and her equally dark hair set off the creaminess of her brown skin, like tea with a dollop of milk, to impressive effect.
“Whatever are you doing out here on your own, Your Imperial Highness?” she asks in a tart voice.
Of course Bianca would nose her way into my business. She’s been a thorn in my side from the moment I stepped into the palace, treating me as an interloper getting in the way of her cousin’s claim on Marclinus’s hand—and her own role as one of Marclinus’s most favored mistresses.
But Lady Fausta, the cousin and friend on whose behalf Bianca has attacked me, died in the horrific trials meant to prove our worth. I’ve told the vicerine that I won’t stand in the way of her relationship with Marclinus. She has no reason to harass me now.
Then again, people like her don’t necessarily need a reason.
I keep my own tone even. “I needed a couple of things for a herbal tea—to help settle the spirits after disheartening events.”
Bianca gives a sniff as if the idea of making any kind of beverage is beneath her—which it quite possibly might be—and swans off with her head held high.
Well, that encounter could have gone a lot worse.
I hustle back to my chambers, reaching them just as Eusette arrives with my pot and my bowl of walnuts. With a quick murmur of gratitude, I leave her and my guards at the door and head inside.
This potion requires a complex process, steeping one thing and boiling another, mashing this herb with that pollen for just the right amount of time. As I lay out my apparatus and get to work, the steps unfurl through my head with a tingle of my gift.
Tapping into my magic comes easier the more familiar I already am with a recipe. All the same, I let out a weary sigh by the time I can pour the final mixture of pale pink syrup into a bottle. The top of my skull prickles with a hint of strain.
I cap the bottle and set it among my other supplies in the bottom of the tea box. I’m just gathering my tools when brisk footsteps sound right beyond the door.
My pulse hiccups. I dump the last few pieces into the chest less gently than I’d have preferred and whirl just as my door flings open.
Marclinus strolls into my bedroom as if he has every right to, which by law he does. All things in the empire belong to the emperor—including me.
Thanks to enchantments worked on all relevant surfaces, every lock in the palace will open at the touch of his hand.
I force a smile onto my face to cover the thudding of my heart. “Husband, how good to see you. Are you finished with your business already?”
“It’s dinner time,” he says, holding out his hand to me. “Let us go preside over our court together.”
“It is always a pleasure and an honor to accompany you.”
I tuck my hand around his elbow and walk with him into the hall, my nerves still jangling with the awareness of just how little privacy I have from the man I most need it from.