Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Aurelia
I catch Baronissa Livisse by the cards tables in the hall of entertainments. “I’ve been able to locate a supplier for that Icarian fabric you were interested in. Madam Clea is looking through the offerings now and should be able to take commissions using it as of tomorrow.”
The baronissa claps her hands together in delight and then rests one on the protruding swell of her belly. “It will be nice to have a new gown waiting for me after our little lord or lady arrives. Something to look forward to. Thank you.”
She beams at me, and I smile back. I’m making some progress at warming the court up to me… even if so far their good will is mostly based on what they can get out of me.
Gods only know if the grasping nobles will ever value their empress for more than that. Although somehow Marclinus managed to acknowledge this morning that I have virtues beyond spreading my legs for him, so it doesn’t seem utterly impossible.
As I turn, I catch Vicerine Saldette glowering my way for an instant before she wrenches her expression into blankness. I aim a careful smile at her through a jab of unreasonable guilt.
I’ve learned that her daughter was Leonette—the woman who survived nearly to the end of the trials with me, whom my last desperate act left for dead. The vicerine has been perfectly polite to my face, but I can always sense a bitter edge underneath.
She wishes her daughter were in my place. Why wouldn’t she?
Before I have to find something to say to her, a footman stops in front of me and bows. “Your Imperial Highness, I’m to inform you that your first combat lesson will commence in the palace gymnasium at the next bell. His Highness Prince Raul suggests you make sure you’re clothed fittingly.”
Ah, I knew the lesson had been arranged for this afternoon, but not exactly when. My husband does still like me to know that he controls my life more than I do.
I smile at the footman too, because we only rise to greater heights with the support of those below. “I’ll see to that now.”
I can only imagine what attire Raul would consider “fitting” for a sparring session—and what clothes he’d prefer to see me in if he had the choice. Most likely none at all for the latter.
Since I obviously can’t arrive nude, and the wardrobe I have consists exclusively of gowns of various opulence, I paw through my options for the plainest dress I own. The sky-blue silk still boasts gold embroidery along the neckline and waist, but the short sleeves are billowy enough to allow easy movement. The skirt is at the lightest and airiest of typical Darium fashion, leaving my legs with plenty of room to maneuver as well.
It'll have to do.
As I step out into the hall, I fold my arms over my chest, abruptly aware of how the purple blotches on my scarred lower arms are now in view. I didn’t worry about showing them back home during the warmer months, but the court isn’t used to them yet.
Oh, well. It’s a reminder that there is more to me than they regularly see in the palace common rooms.
I take a few steps before realizing I’m not entirely sure where I’m going. Swiveling around, I spot two of my ever-present guards shadowing me from farther down the hall.
One of this afternoon’s number is the curly-haired man Lorenzo described to me, whose name I’ve gathered is Kassun. My skin itches with even more uneasiness.
I haven’t seen any outright hostility from him so far, but since I started watching him more closely, I have noticed that he generally appears more tense than my other protectors, his expressions darker.
Suppressing my doubts, I beckon them over. “As much as I appreciate your usual discretion, I could use more direct help at the moment. Could you show me to the gymnasium?”
Both Kassun and the square-jawed woman who’s his companion today bob their heads in agreement. I catch a flicker of a grimace across Kassun’s face, sharp enough that it might almost be a sneer.
Hmm. Perhaps this would be an ideal time to address that particular problem as well.
Whatever his issues with me are, he mustn’t have revealed any threatening inclinations when High Commander Axius carried out his investigations. I don’t think he wants me dead .
He simply doesn’t like me very much.
The knowledge combined with his military bearing and the sword at his hip makes my nerves jangle, but I have to remember that he isn’t one of the soldiers who’s maimed and murdered my people back home. Every member of the Darium military is their own person.
Many of them awful people, but if I don’t give this one the benefit of the doubt, how can I expect him to give me the same?
We set off with the guards marching on either side of me rather than trailing behind as usual. As they guide me to a staircase that leads down to the first floor, I glance over at Kassun.
“How long have you served at the palace?”
Under my scrutiny, he draws his posture straighter. “This is my eighth year, Your Imperial Highness.”
“You must be quite familiar with the court and the doings of the imperial family, then.”
He makes a hesitant noise of agreement, probably uneasy about where I might be going with this line of conversation.
I keep my tone mild. “I hope you would tell me if you feel I’m acting in any way out of place with them, then.”
Kassun’s head jerks toward me. His voice stiffens. “It would never be appropriate for me to criticize you, Your Imperial Highness.”
“Not even if I asked you to?”
“There is nothing to criticize,” he insists, a little too late. His fellow guard scowls at him.
I let out a light laugh. “It’s important to me that I’m fulfilling my role here as well as I can. I certainly wouldn’t be offended.”
Now Kassun simply stares at me. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
Interesting. I study him in turn. “You think I should be. ”
“You’re the empress—to allow anyone to insult you?—”
He snaps his mouth shut, but I think I understand enough. Lorenzo thought he’d called me “pathetic.”
“You feel I’m too soft,” I suggest gently. “Did you not see me endure Emperor Tarquin’s trials to make it to this point?”
A slight flush has reddened the guard’s face. “I would never say you’re not strong. We just haven’t had many who are dedicated to Elox here, other than the medics. It’s not… a common attitude.”
Ah. He assumes my peaceful nature will interfere with what strength I could bring to bear.
I suppose that’s not an unexpected concern when the Darium empire was built through war and maintained through violent dominance. And when this man has no idea just how forcefully I’ve been willing to assert my own will for the right cause.
The other guard interrupts our conversation with a clearing of her throat and a gesture toward a doorway we’ve come up on. “The gymnasium.”
I smile at her in thanks and give Kassun one last glance. “I trust in time you’ll see that my dedication to healing and harmony only prepares me to defend whatever I hold dear.”
As usual, the guards hang back by the doorway as I enter the room.
The space is large enough that I’d imagine a couple dozen men and women could train in here at a time without it becoming overcrowded. Most of the floor is covered with thin mats for absorbing impact. Racks of training weapons stand along one wall. Another is hung with targets of various sorts alongside a few wooden dummies. For all the palace staff keep the place clean, they haven’t been able to completely erase the sweaty tang from the air.
In the midst of that space, only two figures are waiting for me. I assume Marclinus reserved the room solely for my use during this lesson—and I can’t say I mind the lack of spectators.
Raul moves forward with a nod of greeting. “Your Imperial Highness,” he says, with just a hint of wryness at the formal title.
Despite his tone, his expression stays grim. His gaze sweeps over me as if searching for injuries. I suspect from the flexing of his shoulders that he’s remembering last night’s poisoning—and wishing he could thrash my husband for it.
He kept his cool impressively well during Marclinus’s test. All of my lovers did, but knowing Raul’s temperament, I suspect it was the most struggle for him.
My husband could learn a lot from the foster brothers he disdains.
Raul’s next words come out with a more ominous undertone. “Are you well?”
Even the lingering sting in my lungs has faded since breakfast. “Quite.” My attention veers to his hands, which have risen in front of him. His knuckles are freshly bandaged. “I hope you are also.”
Raul follows my gaze. His mouth twists, but he’s as aware of the guards watching from the doorway as I am. “I have no complaints.”
He gestures me over to where our other companion is waiting.
Prince Neven stands on the central mat, his stance a little awkward. His muscular but gangly teenage frame reminds me even more of an overgrown puppy than usual when he offers me a sheepish smile. “Raul suggested I could help.”
“We’re focusing on defending yourself against attackers,” Raul explains. “It’ll be easier for me to coach you if I can watch how you handle someone else instead of having to be right in there myself. And this one could use some more pointers himself.” He gives his younger foster brother a nudge.
“Of course.” I suppose it would have seemed odd if he’d brought in Bastien or Lorenzo instead when neither of them are much inclined toward combat.
I meet Neven’s gaze. “I appreciate you contributing your time—and looking out for me as best you can.”
Not just now, but last night when he argued with Marclinus on my behalf.
The young prince’s awkwardness fades. “You’re one of us—come from farther away. That’s almost like family.”
It appears he doesn’t hold any continued animosity toward me for rejecting their escape plan either.
“All right, enough chatting.” Raul motions me over to the weapons rack. “These are all blunt. Pick one that’s a size and weight you feel comfortable with. Once we know what you can handle best, you can see about getting a proper knife or dagger to keep on you.”
The thought of carrying around an obvious deadly weapon makes my skin crawl. “Is that really necessary?”
“Obviously we’d hope your guards can intervene before it gets to that point.” Raul shoots a pointed look toward the two by the door. “But if an attacker makes it past them, a blade is your best chance at slowing them down or even stopping them. I’m not going to be able to turn your fists or feet into all that effective a weapon in a single session.”
Fair enough. I did get a decent amount of training in physical defense relying just on my body back home. The tutor didn’t focus on weapons, as a princess wouldn’t have expected to have one close at hand.
I don’t want to be walking around with an instrument of violence on clear display, though. That’ll give the opposite impression from what I want to convey.
I scan the offerings and select the smallest knife, one that could be concealed in a pocket or behind my belt pouch unobtrusively.
Raul’s expression turns skeptical, but he simply shakes his head at me in bemusement. “We can work with that. You’ll just need to be very accurate in where you strike.”
He sets me up on the mat with Neven a few paces away. “He’ll come at you from the side, like so.” He beckons Neven, and the young prince makes a mock charge, reaching for my neck.
Raul stops him when Neven’s hands are near my shoulder and touches my elbow. The warmth of his touch tingles over my skin as he slides his fingers around my arm to guide it. “In this position, you’re most likely to do critical damage if you aim the blade here or here. The more you hurt your attacker, the less likely they can hurt you.”
“Such a pleasant thought,” I mutter.
He chuckles and leans closer as if adjusting my shoulder position more minutely. His voice drops to a murmur so low I doubt the guards can tell he’s talking, though his breath washes over my cheek. “Bastien’s going to search out information on Prospira’s confirmation rite. I talked to an elderly vicerine who was around for Tarquin’s ceremony—she didn’t remember it well, but said it had something to do with gathering crops.”
I keep my own voice equally low. “That doesn’t sound too dangerous. What happened to your hands?”
Raul glowers at me as if he could have expected me not to care. “Nothing you need to worry about. It was either this or Marclinus’s face.”
He injured his knuckles working out his frustrations after last night?
I’d like to ask more, but we can hardly keep talking along these lines without drawing suspicion. Raul raises his voice again. “That’s right. Now try making those blows when he’s approaching at a more normal speed. You want to practice until the right movement feels natural.”
We run through several of those exercises, with me standing or sitting while Neven springs at me from different angles. In each position, Raul has us hold in place while he shows me the best ways to strike to incapacitate an attacker before trying the moves at a faster speed.
I don’t think it’s ever going to feel comfortable for me to drive a blade into another person’s throat or gut or eye. I can at least say that by the time my dress has dampened with perspiration and my muscles are getting achy from the exertion, my instinctive defensive reaction is more likely to be deadly.
Every time my gaze meets Raul’s, I have to suppress the impulse to say something beyond the training. To recognize this fierce and fearsome man who’s determined to stand by my side as a person rather than just a tool.
One question seems safe enough. “You’ve clearly been training in combat for a long time. Is that a typical pursuit for Lavirian royalty?”
Raul snorts, taking a step back after our last exercise. “Not at all. But my family could tell my temper ran too hot for me to be all that effective at moderation or negotiation.”
I raise my eyebrows. “It seems odd to judge someone’s temperament so thoroughly when they’re still a child.”
“They were right that patience isn’t a particular virtue of mine. At least if I could handle myself in a fight, I could defend whatever political treaties or trade negotiations we oversaw.” He strikes an overly pompous pose. “I thought of myself as very valiant when I first started.”
Neven covers a snicker with his hand. “But you dedicated to Kosmel rather than Sabrelle.”
“Ah, by the time I was twelve, I’d figured out that good combat is all about nuance. There’s a kind of might in just appearing to have power, and in knowing how to wield it in opportune ways rather than mindlessly. Plus I needed a little help in the cleverness department.”
He taps the side of his head. His tone is wry again, but his jaw flexes with unstated tension.
I know the other reason he dedicated himself to the godlen of trickery was to gain the gift he thought would help him destroy Emperor Tarquin—and then realized it wouldn’t after all.
“It sounds like you were decently clever already,” I say gently.
Raul’s smile comes back. He pats me on the shoulder with a surreptitious squeeze of affection. “And you haven’t done badly as a warrior, Your Imperial Highness. Next time, we’ll have you in one of your frillier gowns so you can get used to the movements even if you’re more… encumbered.”
“Definitely a concern.” I rotate the handle of the training knife in my hand, adjusting my grip, and turn toward the doorway. “I’d like to try a bit more of a challenge right now. Kassun, would you join us in here?”
Raul’s eyebrows arch, but he doesn’t argue with my request.
The guard cautiously treads farther into the room. “Your Imperial Highness?”
I wave the knife at him. “You have more experience and more training than Prince Neven. My last attacker was a military man like yourself. I’d like to see what it might take to fend off a skilled attacker with a sword. Grab a training blade similar to your regular issue weapon. Please don’t actually run me through, of course, but don’t hold back too much.”
Kassun gapes at me. “Empress, I— I’m not sure this is wise?—”
“It’d be even less wise for me to go off on our trek to the Temple of Fruitful Fields underprepared. Please, let me see where my worst limitations are so Prince Raul may help me mend them.”
The guard still looks as if he’s just swallowed a lemon whole, but he goes to grab one of the blunted swords.
Raul folds his arms over his chest. “If someone comes at you with a blade that much bigger than your own, your best bet is to get out of the way as much as you can. The sword is going to strike you either way, so better that it hits something less vital. If you can deflect it with your knife or even get in a strike of your own, great, but don’t focus on that.”
I nod, shifting my weight on my feet. “All right. Kassun, you attack, and I’ll do my best to dodge.”
Kassun approaches tentatively at first, taking a swing and a jab that I easily leap away from. When I duck under another swipe and tap my knife against his belly, his forehead furrows with consternation. “You wouldn’t normally get an opening like that.”
I grin at him. “Then don’t give me one. Make me fight.”
Despite his obvious misgivings, he comes at me faster. His sword slices through the air with enough force to ruffle my hair when it veers close.
I dodge and weave, and fend off one blow with a clang against my knife that reverberates down my arm. More sweat trickles down my back.
“Always move to the side as well as backward,” Raul calls after me. “Focus on keeping your head and torso out of reach. Don’t be afraid to duck right down to the ground if it keeps you safe.”
I end up crouching on my knees and flick my blade across Kassun’s shin as I scramble away. His next swing nicks my shoulder. I suck in a breath, and the guard freezes.
“Your Imperial Highness, I’m so sorry—I?—”
I stand, holding up my hands in appeal. “I’m fine. It barely hurt. You’re only doing as I asked. But while we’re here…”
I swipe my arm across my damp forehead and then slash out without warning. My knife stops an inch from Kassun’s eye before he’s quite got his sword up again.
He jerks backward, his jaw twitching. “You wouldn’t have gotten that close if we were still sparring.”
“I know.” I lower my knife. “But you didn’t expect me to try it. I want you to know that if my own security—or that of the people I rule over—is under attack, I’ll do whatever is required to protect it. The idea of peace doesn’t do anyone any good unless you’re willing to fight for it.”
Raul’s laugh rings through the room.
Kassun gapes at me for a moment before a trace of a smile curves his lips too. He bends into a brief bow. “I won’t argue with that, Your Imperial Highness.”
“Good. Now I think I’d better retire to my chambers for a time before I present myself before the court again.”
And perhaps it’ll be with one fewer potential enemy to worry about.