Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Aurelia
A s we step out of the carriage to the flash of newly lit-lanterns, Marclinus smacks my ass and squeezes the cheek through my gown.
“What a pleasure it’ll be to have some of this meat after dinner!” he declares, vigorously enough that his buoyant voice carries along the length of our convoy. Then he bounds off to grab one of the disembarking marchions from another carriage, with whom apparently he has some urgent matter to bring up.
A blush burns my face, but I keep my mild smile in place as if I’m unbothered. My jaw is starting to ache from clenching back so many winces and retorts.
Over the past two days since we started traveling back to the capital, my husband has been in particularly unruly form. Loud conversations, louder laughter, plenty of wine, and regular pawing at me and whatever other ladies he picks to join us in our carriage, which he swaps out regularly.
Last night he went off with a couple of baronissas at our waystation, but it sounds like I won’t be spared his company tonight.
Is it something about being on the road, a restlessness because of the confinement of the carriage? I don’t remember him being quite this thoroughly horrible on our previous journeys.
Perhaps he’ll have calmed down tomorrow.
As I clutch that kernel of hope deep inside, Neven ducks out of the carriage behind me. The teenaged prince was one of our companions for this latest leg of the journey, although Marclinus barely spoke to him other than to make a variety of insulting jokes about his home country.
He glances after the emperor with a brief grimace and then looks at me.
“Isn’t it wonderful seeing His Imperial Majesty so lively?” I say, with a little more wryness than I might have allowed myself if anyone else was in easy hearing distance.
If the young prince’s temper has been riled up as I’ve seen happen in the past, I’ll do what I can to defuse it.
Neven’s expression turns more pensive than angry, though. He opens his mouth, hesitates with a flick of his gaze over the departing nobles who are moving toward the waystation’s open doors, and appears to gird himself.
His low voice suggests he’d rather no one overhears his remarks either. “I wanted to ask you something about your gift.”
Interesting. I nod for him to go on. “Of course. What did you want to know?”
“Well, I…” He pauses again with an awkward dip of his head. “Do you think it’s possible to brew a ‘cure’ for being attracted to someone? ”
I can’t stop my eyebrows from jumping up before I give the question due thought. If my fertility potion could stir up increased desire, presumably there are other combinations of ingredients that could suppress lustful sensations. “I’d imagine so. Are you looking for that sort of cure? Has something gone sour with your musician?”
I keep the question light and gentle, not sure how much Neven will want to open up to me. I offered myself in a big sister sort of position when we first made our peace, but a lot has happened since then. We’ve talked very little just the two of us.
He knows I was aware of his interest in one of the court musicians, enough that he only looks a little abashed and not startled by the suggestion. “Not exactly. He actually suggested maybe we could spend some time together when the court returns to Vivencia. I just—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it—I’ve been dreaming about it?—”
He stops abruptly with a flush darkening his tan cheeks. “There’s so much else going on, so much that’s more important. It feels wrong to be distracted by trysts that aren’t even happening right now instead of… anything that would be more useful.”
An edge of frustration has crept through his words. What’s prompted this new attitude?
Neven has been spending a lot of time around the military advisor lately.
I take an even more cautious tone. “Is that something the high commander has suggested to you—that you need to be focused on more serious matters?”
“No. No. I thought maybe I’d get a better idea of what I need from him, but I’m still not sure…”
The young prince trails off, looking lost. A pang shoots through my heart.
I don’t have any conception of what it’s like to be in his position: torn away from my family for a decade, forced to live under the authority of a brutal tyrant, aware that my brother died in the same position before I arrived. Gods only know what turmoil he has to work through.
I turn to face him more fully. “I realize we haven’t known each other for very long, but I hope you’ll believe that I’d like to see you happy and thriving here at court, as much as that’s possible. If anything’s bothering you, you can tell me as much as you’re comfortable talking about. I’ll help, however I can.”
Neven’s jaw works, his bright brown eyes going stormy. Finally, he says, “You won’t mention it to my foster brothers? Any of them?”
I don’t want to lie to him. “If I think I need to so I can stop something awful from happening, I can’t keep that promise. But if it’s nothing that dire, your secret is safe with me.”
He heaves a breath. “Do you ever get visions from your godlen—from Elox?”
Several memories flit through my mind. “Yes, occasionally. Sometimes when I ask for guidance, and more rarely when it seems he believes I need it regardless of whether I’ve solicited him.”
“Then maybe… I’ve been having other dreams too. I think they’re from Sabrelle.” Neven presses his hand to the middle of his chest over his godlen brand. “It feels like she’s impatient with me. She’s urging me to take action, or at least to be prepared to, but I can’t tell what I’m supposed to actually be acting on . It’s all muddled. I just know she doesn’t think I’ve been doing enough.”
Oh, the poor kid. Sometimes the divine missives I receive can be a little unnerving, even though they’re messages of peace and healing more than anything else. I can’t imagine what it’s like having the godlen of war and conquest spurring you onward.
Her message has been forceful enough to make a prince think he needs to medicate away his teenage desires to serve her properly.
I consider all the visions and dreams Elox has offered me—so often welcome, but not always—and the teachings of the clerics I grew up with. “You know, the gods have an awful lot of us to watch over. They can’t often pay all that much attention to any one person. And they all have different domains that they prioritize. They aren’t always right about what’s best for us, and what they’d believe is best isn’t always what we’d agree with.”
Neven frowns. “But I dedicated myself to her. She gave me a gift.”
I give his shoulder a light pat. “That simply means you generally embrace her principles. It’s not a promise to obey every directive. The gods can’t meddle with our lives directly—they can only suggest. The All-Giver created us to have free will. It’s by divine right that we get to make our own choices in the end. All they can reasonably expect of us is that we take their guidance into account.”
The prince considers my words, his pensive expression remaining in place. “I don’t know what choices would be right for me. Everything feels so chaotic right now.”
“I know. But I don’t know what you could be doing right now to change that anyway, so I think you have some time to figure out where you stand.” I offer a reassuring smile. “And if you decide that you really want that potion, I’ll see what I can do about concocting it for you.”
“All right. Thank you.” He aims a flash of a smile at me in return that brightens my spirits a bit and heads over to the waystation building, where most of the nobles are entering beneath Jurnus’s etched sigil in anticipation of our dinner .
I’m about to follow Neven when Raul steps into view, his face tight. His gaze flicks to the carriage and back to me. “My foster brother has seemed a little… out of sorts. Has he been bothering you, Your Imperial Highness?”
He obviously means for anyone overhearing to take his phrasing to mean Neven, but the twitch of his fingers at his side indicates Marclinus . He’s taking the opportunity to check if I’m all right after my husband’s shift in behavior.
I’m not sure what the prince of Lavira could do about it if I admitted how much Marclinus has been bothering me, but his concern warms me all the same. There’s a small pleasure in being able to talk to him at all outside of secret meetings, if only for a moment.
I offer a crooked smile. “I’m sure he’ll sort himself out. I’m not overly put upon.”
To emphasize that point, I swivel my fingers in the gesture for, It’s fine.
I catch sight of Lorenzo beyond Raul, turned away from me but with his hand curled by his side. It twists in a subtle motion. We’re here.
I’d take a lot more comfort from their surreptitious display if my husband wasn’t loping back toward us at this very moment.
“Wife!” Marclinus flings his arm around my shoulders and yanks me toward the waystation. “Let’s get on with that dinner. I’m sure our princely companions have better things to do than badger you.”
He casts his gaze toward both Raul and Lorenzo with a slight narrowing of his eyes that sets my nerves on edge.
I force a giggle. “I’m sorry, husband. Prince Neven asked for a little advice based on my gift, and Prince Raul was simply ensuring he hadn’t been imposing. I am quite hungry. Let us eat.”