Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Aurelia
T he seat at the head of the main table remains ominously empty all through breakfast. With each passing minute that our new emperor doesn’t appear before me, with each bite of my meal that turns into a lump in my mouth, the food tastes more like ash.
With each breath, a faint pinching sensation jabs my lungs, leftover from the poison he fed me last night. Every nerve recoils from the memory of our interlude afterward in my bedroom.
Marclinus made no mention of his test as if pretending it’d never happened, but he appeared to revel in my lingering weakness all the same. He chuckled when he had to help my shaky hands peel off my gown. He met the sickly sway of my body with eager caresses and a broad smirk.
The only benefit of his exulting in the temporary feebleness he’d inflicted was it gave plenty of time for the potion in my ring to take hold once I pricked him. I didn’t have to endure anything more intimate than I’ve needed to allow before.
My husband must have left not long after waking from its stupor, sometime in the middle of the night. The other side of my bed was empty when I woke.
I took some pleasure in his absence then. Now, I can only wonder what new horrors he might be concocting.
Based on last night’s scheme and the way he reacted when Bastien shot my attacker, I have to think he suspects some kind of collusion between his foster brothers and me. He must know perfectly well that what Neven said is true—if none of the palace medics could save Tarquin with their magic, what hope did I have of brewing a cure in the few minutes before his death?
Marclinus’s test didn’t even prove that I couldn’t have, regardless of that fact. Whether my gift works as claimed or not has no bearing on whether I chose to use it.
No, the real test wasn’t for me. It was for his hostage princes, to see if any of them appeared overly concerned about my well-being. Possibly hoping they might be moved to violence against their emperor in my defense, so he’d have both proof and an immediate excuse to punish them.
They kept their heads well. Neven was the only one who spoke up for me overtly, with a typical teenage outrage against unfairness that his time in the imperial palace hasn’t quite dulled yet. I don’t think Marclinus will read anything suspicious into that.
I have no idea whether the results of my husband’s test will have erased his suspicions, though. The trials he put his prospective brides through are clear enough proof of how much he enjoys making others suffer.
He might very well prod at the princes several times more just for the “fun” of it. And gods only know how he’ll use me again.
I need him to see that my loyalty is unshaken, that I can set aside last night’s cruelty and continue on as his devoted wife. Erase any doubts he might still have about me .
If he’s absolutely sure I couldn’t have dallied with any of his foster brothers, his sadistic inclinations will find a new target.
My husband has occasionally lounged around in his bed after a late night rather than joining the court for our morning meal. As soon as I can graciously make my departure, I head back to the imperial apartments.
The sole guard standing by the door to Marclinus’s private chambers simply tells me he’s not in. Frowning, I wander through the halls contemplating where my husband might have gone instead.
Did his advisors call an early morning meeting? I remember seeing Counsel Etta and High Commander Axius at one of the tables during breakfast, though.
I wouldn’t have expected Marclinus to skip a meal for some solitary entertainment. What is he up to?
I come out of the staircase into the second-floor hallway to find Vicerine Bianca mincing by.
She pauses, taking in my expression and the direction I was coming from. “Are you looking for His Imperial Majesty?”
My entire body tenses against the idea of revealing anything at all to this woman. I might not face such an uphill battle winning over the court if she hadn’t done her best to sour her fellow nobles’ opinions about me—and I’m certainly not forgetting how she joined in the attack in the palace woods that left me with multiple broken bones.
On the other hand, she is rather familiar with my husband. She hasn’t shown any hostility since the trials ended.
It’s always more useful to cultivate allies than to encourage enemies.
I offer a thin smile. “I suppose you know where he is.”
Bianca bobs into a brief curtsy, as if the formality has only just occurred to her. “He’s in his office, Your Imperial Highness. I just spoke with him—he seems rather distracted. Disinterested in company.”
Her mouth tightens with those last words. Her dark gaze rests on me for a moment before she goes on. “But perhaps he’s only dismissing the sort I would offer. You may have better luck.”
Is she admitting that she believes I can offer the man she’s so coveted something she can’t?
I blink at her, startled enough to have to scramble for an answer, and Bianca dips her head again before continuing on down the hall.
“Thank you for the assistance,” I say hastily, and hurry on to the imperial offices.
To my surprise, Marclinus’s guards are poised outside the office where I first spoke to him directly—the one he used when he was merely the imperial heir. There’s a larger one for the emperor’s use.
But then, he hasn’t had much time to make the transition. He might have records or books among his things that he wanted to consult.
Even though I’m now his wife, one of his guards knocks for me and announces my arrival rather than letting me speak to Marclinus myself. The initial silence makes my heart sink, but then Marclinus calls back, “Let her in.”
Stepping through the office doorway feels like tumbling back through the weeks to that first private conversation, when I came carrying tea on a tray .
As then, Marclinus is sitting at his desk. He glances up from the documents he’s been perusing with an unusually pensive expression.
He casts his gaze over me from head to toe and back again, his expression tightening. His voice comes out brisk but not harsh. “To what do I owe the pleasure, wife?”
I clasp my hands in front of me and offer the sweetest smile I have in me. No harm done, no hard feelings. “I missed you in the dining room and wanted to make sure all is well. Has some concern arisen that’s urgent enough to keep you from breakfast?”
Marclinus flicks his hand dismissively. “I can eat later. There is…”
He trails off with a more penetrating look at my face. No doubt he’s still hesitant to trust me with all the details of the empire’s business.
I expect him to wave me off too and continue his work alone. Instead, he leans back in his chair and motions for me to draw up the smaller armchair off to the side of the desk. “Sit down. Considering the threats you’ve already faced, I suppose you should be properly informed.”
I tug the chair over and sink into it, appreciating the invitation but uneasy about the rest of his words. “Informed of what?”
Marclinus turns back to his papers. “It appears fresh unrest is stirring in Lavira. Reports have come in of attacks on a couple of our guard posts in the countryside.”
Ah, I can see why that might have distracted him, especially when his own court has been fretting about the conquered countries rebelling. At least it has nothing to do with me or his foster brothers.
I just have to pretend that I don’t think the rebels have a legitimate cause.
I tilt my head to show I’m considering the matter. “Do you have reason to believe the attacks are part of a larger movement? It could simply be locals lashing out without any real organization. Two incidents aren’t too much to be coincidence.”
My husband grimaces. “The local forces are investigating. But my father had issues with Lavira shortly after he took the throne—I’ve just been reading through those accounts. It wouldn’t be surprising for us to see a resurgence in anti-imperial sentiments at another transition point.”
“I’m sure you’ll deal with them as effectively as he did.” In horrific, brutal fashion that I’d rather not think about. “If it’s only a couple of small, isolated instances at the moment, I’d imagine it’s better to wait for more information before drawing conclusions.”
“That’s your dedication to Elox talking.” Marclinus’s fingers flex around the metal pen he was toying with. “A couple of assaulted guard posts is how the revolt in Velduny began.”
No wonder this particular incident has unsettled him. The rebellion in Velduny is what led to the entire western half of the continent throwing off the empire’s shackles.
The loss happened a century ago, well before even Tarquin’s time, but the imperial family has never stopped trying to regain their former territory. I can’t count how many Accasians—and no doubt civilians from the other conquered countries as well—they’ve thrown into soldier garb and spurred across the Seafell Channel to meet their deaths in vain.
The possibility of losing more territory must gnaw at Marclinus’s ego. How awful would it look if he failed to quell an uprising so soon after he took the throne?
Perhaps if the scenario were different, I’d try to guide him toward a course that would result in that exact outcome. But the empire has stamped out plenty of rebellions in the past. Velduny’s revolutionaries had a couple of major advantages: being far distant from Dariu’s center of power and taking the local forces totally by surprise.
The imperial forces were over-confident back then, too slow to see just how great the threat was. Marclinus would rather err in the opposite direction now and crush any hint of mutiny as brutally as possible. Lavira shares a border with Dariu and is trapped amid the other countries of the empire—they can be stormed from all sides.
All that will come of this incident is more people dead—the exact people I’d want still living to support the changes I hope to make in the future.
I craft my response carefully. “I see your point. And you certainly have more experience in the area of warfare than I do. Elox’s teachings aren’t without their own wisdom, though. Any violence you order in response may spark vengeful anger. I would never deny that you must come down with all force when it’s necessary, but maintaining peace where it’s already established benefits us as well, doesn’t it?”
Marclinus scoffs. “I certainly wouldn’t offer a friendly hand to the thugs who killed those guards.”
I hold up my hands. “And you shouldn’t. Proven criminals must be punished to maintain order. I’m talking more about the possibility of a broader revolt in the making.”
My husband sets down his pen and turns to fully face me. “And what do you think your godlen would say about that?”
I ignore the derisive note in his voice, keeping my own tone subdued. “I’d imagine… that you should avoid any punishments based on suspicion rather than clear proof. Have your representatives seek out the reasons for the current rancor. See if there are matters of discontent that you can address without any real cost, and perhaps that will snuff out en ough ill feeling that there’s no need for it to come to a battle at all.”
“ Chat with the traitors.”
I shrug. “You don’t know yet which citizens are traitors. And it seems to me that you’ll gain a lot more time without additional assaults if the people feel they have no reason to rise up. If they’re simply biding their time until they’re angry enough not to care about the risks, they could strike again at any moment.”
Marclinus swipes his hand over his mouth, the gesture tugging at the scar through his upper lip. Was it one of the rebels in Rione, the one conflict he had a direct hand in tackling under Tarquin’s watch, who left him with that mark?
“I can see there’s some sense to your words,” he says slowly. “Father did always say it’s useful to get differing perspectives, whether they adjust your course or steady you in it. I appreciate that I have a wife who’s able to form a coherent perspective in the first place.”
I can’t tell whether that’s an insult hidden in a compliment, but I’ll take it over outright mockery. “I’m dedicated to supporting you however I can. I can’t hope to match the guidance your father would have supplied, but what little I can offer is yours.”
Marclinus gazes at me for a few moments longer, until my skin starts to creep with memories of last night all over again. But there’s nothing leering or cruel about his expression right now, even if I can’t read what’s going on in his head behind his cool eyes.
Finally, he shakes his head. “Father was only a little older than I am when he needed to take the throne. I’ll manage.”
I catch the start of a dismissal in the words and jump on the one thing I can think of to prolong the conversation—and my chances of proving my devotion. “I appreciate having a husband who looks out for my safety. Why did you feel I should know about the potential uprising? Have there been any attacks on Dariu’s soil?”
“Not as yet. And if the Lavirians are smart, they won’t risk it.” The smile Marclinus forms is fierce enough to make my pulse skitter. “Better to be aware than not, though. And we will be traveling not far from their border for the third rite in about a month’s time.”
We’re meant to leave for the second in a matter of days. Perhaps, while he seems positively disposed toward me, I should bring up my intentions. They are an act of devotion of their own, after all.
“True enough. And I was hoping I could accompany you fully in the remaining rites as I did in the first.”
Marclinus catches my meaning in an instant, with a tick of his eyebrow upward. “You want to complete the other three confirmation rites? The first wasn’t enough of a challenge to sate your interest?”
I let my smile turn wry. “I didn’t vie for your hand in order to take things easy after I’d won it. The people seemed to respond well to my demonstration. I’d like all of Dariu to know how committed I am to the empire—and that I have the gods’ approval.”
“Well, I suppose showing the strength of our combined rule will only work to my benefit.” He cocks his head. “You’ll have to face the challenges fairly, though. The advance knowledge is reserved for those of the line already blessed by the gods.”
Is that how he sees the advantage that all but guarantees he makes it through the ceremonies?
“I trust that the gods will see me through,” I say, which is true enough. If my wits and their divine support aren’t strong enough for me to emerge from these introductory challenges unbroken, then I’m hardly up to the greater task I came here to carry out, am I ?
The intensity in my husband’s gaze softens just a little. “I certainly haven’t met anyone who could match you for faith, Aurelia, though I suspect your other virtues have at least as much of a role in your victories.”
That was definitely a compliment in its entirety. I think I’ve gained some ground here today, even if I can’t tell which part of my approach won Marclinus over however much.
I’d better leave him on a victorious note.
I ease to my feet with a respectful dip of my head. “I’ll endeavor to continue impressing you.”
His chuckle follows me to the door. “I’m sure you will, wild princess of mine.”
He can say that all he wants, but I’ll never be his.