Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Aurelia
M idway through the fourth day of our journey, clouds swallow the sunlight. By the time we’re preparing to set off again after lunch, raindrops drum on the carriage roof.
Marclinus grimaces at the ceiling with an overdramatic shudder. “If I have to listen to that racket the entire afternoon, I’ll go mad.” He leans toward the window and snaps his fingers at the guards stationed nearby. “Someone get Prince Bastien over here.”
My heart sinks. I scramble to think of some way to dissuade my husband from this course, but I can’t come up with any reason I believe he’ll consider to spare Bastien the strain.
Bastien trudges over through the rain, his damp-darkened hair bringing out the deep green of his eyes.
“You called on me, Your Imperial Majesty?” he says evenly.
He must already be able to guess what this summons is about.
Marclinus gestures for him to get in with us. “Sit and use that gift of yours to clear off this horrible weather. Perhaps you can entertain us with some conversation as well afterward. All these days on the road do get awfully dreary, don’t they?”
“Indeed.” Bastien bobs his head to me with an impassive expression and clambers inside. Since naturally Marclinus isn’t giving up room on his bench if he doesn’t have to, I scoot over to make space.
It seems expected enough that I’d watch the prince of Cotea as he works his magic. I’ve never seen it done, after all.
I school my own expression into one of mild curiosity, tamping down the more avid interest and concern that both clamor inside me. Curling my fingers against the urge to grasp Bastien’s hand in support.
While the prince focuses on the storm clouds beyond the window, Marclinus calls over one of the barons to join our ride as well. The carriage sets off with a hiss of the wheels over the wet road.
Marclinus frowns at Bastien, but the prince’s face is so tensed with concentration that I don’t think he even notices. The drumming on the roof slows. A streak of sunlight beams across the nearby fields.
My eyes widen in spite of myself. I yank them away from Bastien to peer out the window on my side.
The darkest clouds are drifting away across the sky, off behind us where they won’t trouble us farther down the road either. Even the fluffier ones above are thinning into little puffs of white.
He’s really managing it. He’s using his gift to blow an entire rainstorm away. I can’t hear the warble of the wind from all the way down here, but I make out little eddies amid the tufts of cloud.
I knew he was capable of it—he’s known for that gift, after all. But no one else realizes what it really takes out of him, how much directed effort it requires to channel his actual gift into this purpose.
When my gaze slides back to Bastien, my pulse stutters. Other than a few reddish blotches, his skin has sallowed like it did after I branded him. His jaw has clenched. When he drags in a breath, an audible wheeze carries from his chest.
My thoughts dart to my tea box and the brew I made to ease his single lung before, but it’s stashed away in one of the tightly packed trunks. Marclinus turns to the baron and makes a wry comment about the contents of our lunch as if his superficial request hasn’t worn his foster brother ragged.
I swallow thickly and hold my tongue. I don’t dare show much concern of my own and provoke my husband’s suspicions.
Listening to Marclinus and his friend, I manage to interject a couple of comments of my own as if I’m engaged by their conversation. My attention lingers on the prince at the edge of my vision.
After a spell of sitting silently other than his raspy breaths, Bastien’s posture gradually relaxes. The rattle eases from his chest.
It might look equally odd if I ignore him entirely. And I do actually welcome the chance to learn more about the steadfast man I’ve fallen for.
I wait another few minutes before I judge it won’t add too much strain for him to talk. “I understand you asked for your gift with rain mainly to summon it rather than repel it. Droughts are a significant problem in Cotea? ”
Marclinus’s eyes flick toward us. I keep my smile subdued, as if I’m only looking to make polite conversation.
Bastien tips his head, looking toward the window as if he could see his home country from here through the renewed sunlight. “You wouldn’t think so with the Seafell Channel all along our border. But the flatlands in the northeast don’t see much rain naturally. I think it worsened with the leaving of the All-Giver. And since the conflict with the western countries, some of the streams and rivers have been diverted into canals to better serve the fortresses closer to the border.”
He speaks carefully, not indicating any judgment over those decisions, but I can judge them myself from what he’s said. The Darium empire has put a significant strain on his people’s resources for their selfish ambitions.
Marclinus clicks his tongue. “Anyone there has the whole rest of the country to move to. It’s their own choice to be stubborn.”
Bastien looks as if he’s bitten back a sharp remark. His next words come out even more measured. “There are farmlands up there it’d be difficult to abandon. But we make do as best we can.”
Does Cotea produce some crop that the empire demands as it does Accasy’s breamwood? I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Your people can take comfort that their ruling family cares enough to take on gifts and the necessary sacrifices on their behalf,” I say.
Bastien’s mouth ticks with a hint of a smile. “That’s kind of you to say, Your Imperial Highness.”
I wish I could pour enough of my admiration on him to spark a proper grin, but my husband is still following our discussion with interest. It feels wisest to shift my attention back to Marclinus. “Is drought a concern in any part of Dariu?”
Let him believe I care about nothing more than I do his own country. Let him only see the most willing and devoted of wives, while my heart aches for the men who are everything he’s not.
It’s getting late in the afternoon on our fifth day of travel when the convoy comes to a sudden halt.
Marclinus frowns and leans toward the window. Before he needs to holler for an explanation, High Commander Axius appears outside, his graying hair rumpled and his eyes steely.
“Your Imperial Majesty, we’ve been reached by a messenger from Lavira. I think you should hear the news immediately.”
The way he focuses only on Marclinus as if I’m not even in the carriage feels pointed to me. Perhaps Marclinus gets the same impression, because he beckons the high commander inside. “Come in, and we can keep moving while we talk. You can say whatever you need to in front of your empress as well.”
Axius has the decency to look mildly chagrinned. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.” He nods to me as he climbs inside. I slide over so he can sit across from Marclinus for easier conversation.
I can’t really complain about the intrusion. I’ll take the rigid military man over the guffawing, fawning nobles Marclinus normally invites to ride with us any day. Especially if it means staying abreast of the news from Lavira.
Marclinus gestures out the window, and the convoy lurches back into motion. He fixes his gaze intently on Axius. “What’s going on in Lavira now?”
“We’ve had word directly from Tribune Valerisse,” Axius says. “She was the most senior officer stationed nearby, and she’s been heading the investigations and military response. The sabotage has escalated. A fire was set at a larger fort near the city of Daviro—it was caught before any soldiers were lost, but it burned through the stables first and destroyed several horses. Two days ago when she wrote the missive, it appears tainted food was brought to another fort near Rodrige. Most of the soldiers fell ill—so severely a few had already passed from the poison at the time of the letter.”
A shiver races under my skin. It does sound like a larger rebellion is brewing, one mainly concerned with doing all the damage it can surreptitiously rather than facing the enemy head on. Which I can hardly blame the Lavirians for, but if there are no clear culprits for the empire to punish, it’s likely many innocent lives will be ruined in their conquest for revenge.
Marclinus touches on that subject immediately. “Have any of the perpetrators been apprehended?”
The high commander shakes his head. “Not with any certainty. The workers responsible for delivering the most recent batch of food were interrogated, but they claimed to be unaware of the tampering or who might be responsible. They were executed for either collusion or incompetence, either of which did equal harm.”
Already, people who might have been perfectly loyal subjects have been killed over this mess. I wince inwardly.
“Someone must have some idea who’s lashing out at the empire,” Marclinus says. “We can hardly execute the entire country just to make sure we eliminate the dissenters.”
“Yes, of course. Tribune Valerisse mentioned that she’s beginning a broader swath of interrogations and putting pressure on the locals in the vicinity of the incidents to give up information. She promises she won’t relent until she’s uncovered the traitors.” Axius pats the leather satchel at his side. “I’ll be sending a message back to her by our swiftest messenger. I wanted to know if you have any additional orders for her.”
Marclinus hums. “Give me an hour to think on it, and I’ll speak to you again when we stop for dinner.”
The high commander dips his head in acceptance. With another wave out the window, Marclinus halts the convoy just long enough for Axius to return to his post overseeing the cavalry.
As soon as the horses press on, my husband shifts his attention to me. “You took all that news in. I suppose you’d say we should ply the possible collaborators with gifts and favors rather than beat them into submission.”
The dry edge to his voice tells me exactly what he’d think of such a suggestion, but his tone is light enough that I don’t think he’s outright disparaging my opinion. He’s inviting me to offer something different.
He could have settled into his thoughts and made up his mind on his own, but he wants to hear what I’ll say.
My spirits leap at the opportunity. I still have to play it cautious and within the bounds of what I think he’ll be willing to accept, but that doesn’t mean I can’t steer his response in a direction that’s a little less brutal.
“You poke fun at my peaceful mindset,” I reply, equally light. “I certainly don’t believe in rewarding criminals or those who may be concealing them. There’s quite a range of options between the lax extreme you laid out and having your soldiers torturing hundreds of Lavirians who may honestly hold no resentment toward the empire at all—at least, not before the torture.”
Marclinus tucks himself into the corner of the carriage and folds his hands on his chest, as if he’s about to take a nap at a picnic. But his cool eyes stay trained on my face. “Why don’t you illuminate me on some of the options you see, wife? ”
A prickling sensation runs up the back of my neck with the impression that this is yet another test, but it’s one I’ve been angling for.
How can I focus him on strategies that’ll hurt as few people as possible—and hopefully calm down the rebels until I can offer the whole country a better future?
I smooth my fingers over my skirt. “As one point, I don’t think offering rewards is an absurd idea—if it’s to the right people. You want to protect your people who are stationed in Lavira. Offering bonuses and other advantages to the local workers who’ve continued to serve other forts and outposts well would help ensure their continued loyalty and give them more incentive to distance themselves from the uprising.”
“I can see the value of that step. But we do still need to turn up the traitors, ideally before they do much more damage.”
I rub my mouth while I think it over, and inspiration sparks. But as I turn the tactic over, I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince Marclinus of the wisdom in it if it comes straight from me. He might even suspect me of supporting the local monarchy over his own authority out of my sympathy as a fellow conquered royal.
Can I lead him to strike on the idea apparently by himself?
My heart thumps faster, but I will my voice to stay even. “I’d imagine the biggest problem is that when it comes to the Lavirian citizens who are inclined to lash out, they already see anyone from Dariu as an intruder and a threat. Having Darium soldiers hurt them will only convince them that they’re right. I wonder what they’re hoping to see happen if they could drive the imperial forces out of the country?”
Marclinus snorts. “Presumably they imagine rulership will become the sole domain of the Lavirian royal family. As if the past centuries of their line have any true experience with what it takes to keep even a single country in line.”
I shake my head as if in derision. “If they think their local rulers would never make decisions they disagree with, they’d be in for a harsh awakening even if they got their wish. So much unearned trust. No one can govern a country through kindness alone.”
“Indeed.” His gaze goes briefly distant. “They do have quite a bit of trust in their fellow Lavirians of whatever status, if only in contrast to Dariu. There are still plenty of Lavirian soldiers we monitor, but none of their bases of operation have been attacked.”
He’s already thinking along the lines I hoped. I knit my brow. “What are those soldiers doing while their countrymen harm their supposed allies?”
“Not enough, clearly.” Marclinus pushes himself off the wall, an eager light coming into his pale face. “But they could be. Would you object to threats and torture if it was Lavirians carrying it out against each other, my pacifist?”
I swallow a smile. “I prefer to avoid violence when possible, but when it’s necessary… I’d say the native forces would be more likely to determine who the real dissidents are, wouldn’t they? And more likely to convince those in the know to reveal information without having to crack down unduly hard. And why shouldn’t the supposed rulers of Lavira take responsibility for rooting out their own traitors?”
Raul’s family will also be able to cover up the rebellion if they see the chance—carry out strategic punishments of the worst offenders, convince those less committed to temper their aggressions. Whereas if the Darium forces handle the situation, they’ll conduct a full-out slaughter without consideration of the nuances.
“A very good question,” Marclinus mutters. “I think my father would have approved of making them take care of their own mess. And if any of the local contingents balk at intervening, then we’ll know they’re equally traitorous.”
“Yet another benefit.” May it not come to that.
My husband pauses and studies me even more closely than before. His mouth slants at a wry angle. “You won’t harbor sour feelings over us setting Lavira’s royals on their own? If you have some objection, I’d rather hear it now than after the thing is done, even if I can’t say I’ll change my mind.”
I hold his gaze steadily. “I think it’s a brilliant strategy, quite worthy of an emperor—a balance of cleverness and strength, immediate impact and recognition of long-term consequences. I understand that any revolt must be stamped out. I simply hate the thought of inciting a worse conflict rather than taking the quickest route to peace.”
Another grin flashes across Marclinus’s face, warmer than I’d have expected. “If we both like it, then it must be brilliant. Patience is worthwhile if it means getting more effective results in the end. And I’ll see that your suggestion about rewarding those we’ve been able to count on is passed on as well.”
I tip into a shallow bow, letting a smile cross my own lips at least. “I’m glad you found my thoughts useful, husband. It’s a pleasure to strategize alongside you.”
The more I can weave my influence into these conversations, the closer I’ll be to truly winning the empire.