Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Aurelia
P urple streamers fly all around the city square in the middle of Rexoran. Jubilant laughter rolls through the air alongside the spirited fiddle tune a nearby musician is playing. Feet patter with dancing steps, and the smells of roasted pork skewers and fresh-baked cinnamon twists lace the breeze.
I stand in the middle of the festivities, but I feel set apart from them all the same. Marclinus’s court has taken over the center of the square around its grand fountain dedicated to the very first emperor who pushed beyond Dariu’s borders and began expanding their holdings. His statue stands over us with raised sword and fist while similarly armed living soldiers create a barrier all around us to hold back the common folk.
I can’t help thinking that the ongoing celebration of Marclinus’s ascension looks more thrilling on the other side of our ring of guards. The city’s people are frolicking and downing mugs of frothy ale while we stroll more sedately around the fountain, sipping from goblets of wine.
The court must maintain its appearance of elegant propriety, of course.
Some of the palace servants have at least gotten us our own supply of the local pastries. I nibble on a cinnamon twist my taster already sampled for me, the spicy-sweet flavor flooding my mouth.
Bianca sidles up to me, the goblet in her hand still nearly full. She peers out beyond the guards at the mass of reveling civilians. “They do adore His Imperial Majesty, don’t they?”
“Yes,” I have to agree. It hasn’t escaped my notice that not a single cheer has been raised specifically in my name. I’ve been mentioned a few times alongside Emperor Marclinus or as the joint “Their Imperial Eminences” but never alone.
That’s to be expected. I’ve only just started making my mark. I’ll have many more months ahead of me even if my latest attempt at establishing myself in the imperial family is successful.
The thought is somehow both reassuring and depressing. I push my smile a little higher and aim for a note that’s friendly but not overly warm. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Oh, decently enough.” Bianca’s gaze slides over the crowd again before settling on me. “I suppose you had royal festivals and celebrations of your own back in Accasy?”
A couple of months ago, she’d have delivered that question in a disparaging or disdainful tone, ready to mock whatever I answered. Now, it comes with a curious lilt.
She really is attempting to make good on her realization of how useful I could be as a friend.
Well, as long as I don’t forget that she’s mainly cozying up to me for her own benefit, I can’t see any harm in indulging her overtures. I know some of her secrets. It makes the ground between us feel more even than with the many other nobles who could be scheming just as much but with whom I’m less familiar.
I nod. “The usual godlen festivals, naturally, and a few local holidays. We have less need to worry about security, though, so I’d have mingled more back?—”
I’m about to say “back home,” but I catch myself just in time. Dariu is home now, to anyone around here who’d be listening to me.
“—back there,” I replace it with. “There’d be guards keeping watch, but not outright shielding us.”
Bianca raises her eyebrows. “The wild north is a rather peaceful place, then.”
The corner of my mouth twitches upward at her ironic phrasing. “For the most part. With fewer people, and all of them sharing similar concerns, there isn’t often much to fight about.”
Accasians have a long history of comradery and generosity. Those values helped the people of times long past survive our precarious terrain and harsh winters in our isolation from the rest of the continent.
In more recent centuries, we’ve also stuck together and celebrated the ties between us because no fellow citizen could pose as much of a threat as the conquerors who barge into our streets.
“I do appreciate the company I have here,” I add, to be polite.
Bianca hums to herself. “We can create quite a bit of merriment just within our court. It’s been a long time since I really went out among the common folk. I used to as a child, when I was at my family’s estate…”
She hesitates as if she’s afraid she’s said too much, but the hint of uncertainty softens me. I touch her elbow to nudge her toward the ring of guards. “We can at least get a better look at what we’re currently missing.”
A conspiratorial smile curves the vicerine’s lips. We stroll together through the gathering of nobles.
Amid the swarm, my gaze catches on Raul’s cocoa-brown hair in its usual short ponytail and then Lorenzo’s, darker and closer cropped, nearer by. The prince of Rione dips his head respectfully, his face impassive but a gleam I know is affection in his rich brown eyes.
I nod briefly in return and force my attention to slide on over him as if he’s of no consequence to me.
As we amble on, Bianca sidles even closer to me. She drops her voice to the barest whisper. “There isn’t something going on between you and the princely musician, is there?”
A chill sweeps through my veins. I glance toward her, fighting to keep my expression mild. “Pardon me?”
Somehow my reaction seems to encourage her. The vicerine’s smile widens. “Oh, why shouldn’t you accept other attentions if you find them pleasing enough? He’ll be a major figure in his own country someday, after all. You’re smart enough to take the proper precautions.”
I manage not to sputter my answer, but it’s a near thing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Bianca arches her eyebrows, apparently not to be dissuaded. Perhaps she’s spent so much energy conducting her own intimate connections that she can pick up on the most subtle clues—or perhaps she simply wants it to be true so she holds one of my secrets as I do hers.
“You needn’t worry,” she murmurs. “You’ve been more than tolerant of my own trysts. If you should need any help arranging a private interlude or?—”
Gods, no. I come to a halt and frown at her with all the imperial foreboding I can summon. “I truly don’t know what you mean, so I need no help. It certainly wouldn’t to do tarnish my or the prince of Rione’s reputations with such speculations.”
Bianca pauses, studying me. My heart thumps on, spreading the chill deeper into my gut.
Her smile turns smaller but softer. “My apologies, Your Imperial Highness. I made assumptions and overstepped. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I can’t tell whether she actually believes me or she’s just trying to keep my good will. But what else can I do except hope she won’t mention her impressions to anyone else?
I smile back benevolently and force my gritted teeth to open. “I appreciate your apology. Let us move on to more pleasant subjects.”
Despite that suggestion, we lapse into silence as we stroll on. My gaze travels over to where Marclinus is standing with High Commander Axius, Counsel Etta, and a few of the marchions.
They look more like they’re holding a business meeting than celebrating. Has there been additional news from Lavira?
Is that why Neven is hanging around on the outskirts of their group like a puppy watching for scraps dropped from a table? My husband had better not be drawing the young prince into some larger scheme, no matter how much new eagerness he’s shown for battle.
I don’t see any sign of anyone talking directly to the prince of Goric, so I return my focus to the goal I claimed to be pursuing. Bianca and I glide right along the line of guards, watching the city folk on the other side dance and drink.
There’s some small hope their spectacle of revelry will distract the vicerine from her imaginings.
Several of the nearby citizens turn our way at the sight of me. Murmurs drift through the chatter of the crowd.
“The empress! ”
“Isn’t she pretty?”
“She went up just like he did.”
“That’s the kind of partner he needs.”
“Did you see how well she climbed?”
Just as my spirits start to lift, a flatter voice cuts through the others, pitched loud enough that I think the man is hoping I’ll overhear. “That was all pretending. They’ll have given her an easier challenge so she could put on a little show for us.”
The remark rankles my pride. If he had any idea—it’s his wretched emperor who’s had the pampering in these challenges. They didn’t see the bruises gouged into my shoulder from the wrenching of the harness; they didn’t feel the wind tugging me toward a fatal fall as I neared the top.
I can’t say any of that, though. I can only walk on as if I didn’t hear, pretending I also don’t hear the guffaws and whispers that sound like hushed agreement with the criticism.
How much do I need to do before they consider me a worthy empress?
Bianca rests her hand on my forearm. “Don’t pay them any mind. Most of them are louts anyway.”
As if I don’t know that a great deal of her fellow nobles—maybe even she herself—still have similar doubts about me. As if I don’t have just as much to fear from this woman who’s trying to be my friend.
I wet my lips, searching for the right thing to say, and my gaze catches on a face just beyond the guards.
For just a second, the woman’s skin seems to shimmer. I haven’t called on my godlen, but I feel Elox’s soothing presence in the effect. It emphasizes her one reddened eye, the lid turned pinkish too.
My gift itches at me automatically—to concentrate on her and see what could heal her ailment .
I hesitate, considering the matter.
Yes. It would be a different kind of show, but no one could doubt I’m performing it through my own talents.
I step closer to the guards, raising my hand to catch the woman’s attention. “My good lady, could I have a word?”
Her expression stutters with surprise, but she turns toward me. A man who might be her husband sets his hand on her shoulder as she dips into an awkward bow. “I’m at your service, Your Imperial Highness.”
I offer a smile to reassure both her and the guards between us whose shoulders I’m peering over. “I was hoping I might be at yours. I don’t know how far word has spread about my gift—I’m dedicated to Elox, with his blessing to create remedies for all sorts of afflictions. It looks as if your eye has been troubling you.”
The woman’s hand darts to her ruddy eye as if to hide it, her head drooping. “I’ve seen the herbalist—nothing he gave me worked. We’re saving up to hire a medic.”
She speaks almost apologetically, as if she’s afraid she’s offended me with her appearance.
I keep my smile in place and speak as soothingly as I can. “I might be able to give you some relief sooner. Would you let me work my gift for you? The magic won’t affect you at all—I can only tell you what should heal the malady.”
The man’s eyes widen. “We wouldn’t ask Your Imperial Highness to?—"
I hold up my hand to stop him. “I’m asking you. It would make me happy to lift whatever suffering I can.”
As we’ve talked, many of the civilians around the couple have paused in their celebration to watch. Some of the other nobles drift closer on my side of the ring as well.
I’d better make this a good show.
The woman hesitates for a moment longer and then offers me a shy smile. “If you can see a way to fix it… I’d love to have it gone.”
Inhaling slowly, I focus on the redness of her eye, the hints of inflammation that reveal her malady. What would remove those symptoms and set her features back to rights?
The tickle of images that flow through my head reveal why the herbalist’s typical remedies wouldn’t have worked. From what I can tell, it’s a combination of problems—a minor injury and some kind of illness that the treatments have only partly held at bay. Without addressing both in combination, the condition has lingered.
“All right,” I say. “You’ll need some garlic, brackberries, and willow bark, a little bit of everslip, and some brindle ash sap. Do you think you’d be able to find all that?”
The man’s expression turns pensive before brightening as he nods. “We’ll manage it.”
“Good. The preparation is important too. Let me explain it as well as I can.”
I lay out what needs to be mashed and boiled and mixed, how long the resulting tincture should be left to rest, and how to apply it afterward. Toward the end of my instructions, my confidence wavers.
“I’ve never used my gift purely by instruction before. I sometimes see more subtle steps as I’m brewing—if I’d known and I could have prepared the concoction ahead of time for you?—”
“It’s all right, Your Imperial Highness.” The woman’s voice is so warm with gratitude it’s impossible for me to disbelieve her. “Just helping us this much—if it works even a little—thank you so much.”
Murmurs are passing through the crowd, but they sound more eager than the earlier muttering after that man dismissed my confirmation rite.
Another woman pushes through the crowd toward me, raising her hand for attention while the other rests on a child’s head. “Empress! Can your gift work on sickenings you can’t see? My boy’s ear has been aching inside for a week now.”
One of the nearby guards clears his throat. “Her Imperial Highness can’t be expected to tend to every little?—”
“No,” I interrupt, with a swell of elation. “It’s really all right. I’m glad I can help however I can.”
This is what I’m meant to be doing here. This is what I came for. I may be healing the empire on only the smallest scale at the moment, but it’s a start.
After the boy with the earache, there’s a man who’s been suffering from breathing pains and an elderly woman who’s developed a scaly rash on her hands. All of them haven’t had the money to pay for a medic’s healing gift, and I suspect the old woman hasn’t even scrouged up enough for an herbalist’s cure, the balm my gift brings to mind is so simple.
As the number of revelers who’ve turned into spectators grows, Marclinus saunters over behind me. I don’t acknowledge him other than a flash of a smile, but I’m starkly aware of his presence just a step behind, watching the proceedings over my shoulder.
He doesn’t try to stop me, but he doesn’t offer any words of encouragement either.
Perhaps my husband is simply hoping that people will associate some of my generosity with him.
The next petitioner for my gift approaches the ring of guards with a wary glance at the emperor before focusing on me. The woman looks no more than a few years older than my twenty-one, her loose stringy hair indicating she’s unmarried. There’s a sallowness to her skin that niggles at me before she even speaks.
She places a thin hand on her belly, which bulges slightly on one side beneath her thin dress. “I’ve been feeling sick for almost a month now. Can’t be a baby because I had my bleed. Hard to keep food down. Hard to work. If there’s any way to make it better…”
She trails off, sounding a little hopeless.
I ease closer so it’s easier to focus on her rather than the guards and the watching figures all around us. “Let me see what I can tell you.”
I gaze at her, calling on my gift.
For the first time this day, my mind remains blank. It’s as if there’s a dark hollow where the answers should have arrived.
My chest constricts. I’ve had that result occasionally before, but it’s never welcome.
Tamping down my own queasiness, I adjust my thoughts, directing them more toward comfort and secondary concerns rather than healing the main problem. Several images flit past my eyes, none of them contradicting what I already knew.
It takes a moment before I can speak. “I’m afraid I can’t see any concoction that could be brewed that would heal what ails you. It’s beyond my gift. A medic might still be able to?—”
The woman’s face has outright blanched. “I can’t afford a medic.”
I swallow thickly. “I’m sure we could help with that, considering your need. And I can suggest a few things that might soothe your queasiness and some of the other symptoms.”
Tears streak down her cheeks before I’ve even finished speaking. “It’s that bad. I knew something was really wrong. They kept telling me I was making a fuss, but I knew. I knew .”
An angry voice bellows from somewhere behind her. “The empress helped all those others. Why can’t she do anything for Vinette who really needs it?”
At the chorus of frustration that echoes him, my pulse stutters. Is all the good I’ve managed to accomplish going to be undone because of the limits of my talent?
I reach between the guards to touch the woman’s shoulder, trying to offer as much reassurance as I can, to let her know that her fears and her pain matter to me even if I can’t cure them. The soldier to the left grunts in objection and starts to nudge me backward.
And a gaunt figure lunges past the sick woman to snatch at my arm. “You don’t really care at all about any of us, you bitch from?—”
His fingers claw at my wrist, the nails digging in for one painful instant. Then a small shape whips past my ear.
My attacker’s fingers loosen before the guards have even shoved him away. He stumbles back into the crowd, eyes rolling up as if to stare at the knife embedded in his forehead.
As the gaunt man slumps to the ground in the midst of the startled hush, Marclinus pushes forward. He eases me to the side, glancing at my wrist and then at the staring crowd while he spins another slim knife between his fingers.
He once threw knifes like that at me and nearly a dozen noblewomen to test our mettle. Today he used the same skill to protect me. I never even had the chance to reach for the blade at my own hip.
His voice rings out cool but ominous. “No one harms my wife. Your empress has offered all the help she can. Don’t shame our empire by punishing her for her good will.”
A shiver travels down my back.
The spectators are already slinking away, leaving the dead man for the guards to collect. The music in the square has faltered; no one speaks above a whisper.
Marclinus defended me, but at what cost? What do all these people think of me now that a man’s been killed over grabbing at me in a fit of anguish?
Just as they might have associated my husband with my efforts at healing, now I’m tainted by his violent inclinations.
I gather myself and step farther away from the ring of guards. Marclinus turns toward me with a casual air as if he isn’t remotely affected by the fact that he just murdered a man.
Would I really expect him to be, after all I’ve seen of him?
“I think that’s enough of that sort of excitement,” he says with a crooked grin. “Do you need more entertainment than my court has been providing to keep you occupied, wife? Is there something else you need?”
Gazing up at him with my stomach churning, a different stream of images fills my head: all the things I might need to remove him from my life entirely.
“Actually, there is one thing I was hoping I might add to my possessions, if we can find one in town. I’d like to adopt a kitten.”