Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Aurelia
T he hawk plummets out of the sky toward me, its talons poised. All I can see is its golden wings and the expanse of the blazingly blue sky around it.
Every instinct clamors for me to yank up my arms to shield myself, to brace to shove the creature away. But even as my stance tenses, a flood of cool calm washes over me.
No. I need to welcome whatever will come. I need to show I’ll accept and embrace the threat, and nothing can truly harm me.
I lift my arms but hold them open wide. The hawk slams into me, raking its talons across my cheek and shoulder.
Pain lances through my flesh, but I remain steady in my pose.
The hawk thrashes this way and that, jabbing me with its beak. Slicing into me with its talons. Battering me with its wings .
I take in every sting and ache and stroke my fingers across its smacking feathers. Hum a soothing tune. Wait for it to see I’m not its opponent.
All at once, the bird spasms. A white form pushes through the golden feathers into my embrace.
The dove shoves the remains of the hawk’s body away and nestles against my chest. A glowing light emanates from it, coursing over me and sealing all my wounds.
I made it through, and this is my reward.
I tuck my arms gently around the feathered form and?—
My eyes pop open to stare at the dawn-lit ceiling of my waystation bedroom.
The dream falls away. A shudder runs through me at the memory of the hawk’s vicious talons.
I touch my face with the irrational need to confirm my flesh is still whole.
My stomach balls into a knot. Elox couldn’t have sent a more blatant symbolic vision. The hawk is a symbol of the imperial family—what could he mean it to represent but my brutal husband?
My godlen is calling for peace. For me to keep enduring every insult and attack Marclinus aims at me, with the promise that if I simply keep offering tenderness and compassion in return, that sadistic man will somehow transform into a loving partner.
Is that some kind of divine joke?
As I sit up in the bed, I can’t help thinking of my conversation with Neven yesterday evening, before the worst of Marclinus’s recent offenses. I told the young prince that none of us have to follow whatever guidance the gods offer us.
That maxim has never felt truer than right now.
I can’t stop my jaw from clenching. I’ve disagreed with Elox in the past, but I’ve never felt so outright angry with him.
How fucking dare he imply that I haven’t tried hard enough? Was I supposed to let Marclinus spread me out on the table in front of the entire court last night and take his “dessert”?
Just how much does the godlen of peace think I should let myself be broken before I’m allowed to defend myself? How much does he imagine I’m going to accomplish for his purpose if I’ve been smashed into pieces before I get the chance?
No. I did what Elox called for. I committed murder even though it turned my stomach. It was good enough for the godlen of peace that I took down one imperial figure to clear the way for the realms to heal.
I’m simply following the tactics he taught me.
A maid arrives with hot water for my usual morning tea, and I clamber out of the bed. My kitten, now named Sprite, weaves between my ankles with a mew of greeting.
I manage a smile and bend down to ruffle her fur. But as I walk to the wash basin, a twinge runs through my lower belly.
I pause with a chill tickling over my skin. Was that the start of a cramp?
Is my monthly bleed already on the verge of returning? I wouldn’t have expected it so soon.
I see no trace of red in my drawers when I relieve myself, but as I prepare for the day, a gloom settles over me alongside my frustration with my godlen.
If I’m still no closer to producing an heir, then that’s another month I’ll have to pretend to appreciate Marclinus’s callous whims. Another month when I can’t do anything except hold as firm as I can while he batters my foundations.
The dark edges of my inner storm cloud nibble at my mood through a breakfast of Marclinus’s jovial conversation, which he continues with the three noblemen he invites to share our carriage. I smile and nod like the wife he wants, longing for the book tucked into my travel case, knowing he’d chide me for unfriendliness if I turned to it.
As we approach the smaller waystation where we’ll be taking lunch, a flurry of activity outside the long, low building draws my gaze.
I lean closer to the window, peering at the folk in simple clothing who are dashing to and fro by the side wall. A couple of the imperial soldiers have ridden ahead and appear to be directing them.
Word must have traveled along the convoy, because the guard riding nearest my window pulls his horse toward the carriage. His mouth is set in a tight line. “You’d better not bother yourself with anything out here, Your Imperial Highness. There was a bit of a mess. The workers are cleaning it up.”
My brow knits. “What kind of a mess? What’s?—”
Then the carriage moves close enough that I can make out the words someone must have painted hastily on the wall, burgundy streaking across the pale blue surface. The letters have faded with the scrubbing of many sponges, but they’re still visible in the stark sunlight.
GO HOME TO ACCASY.
My throat closes up. I don’t know what else the message might say lower down where the letters are hidden by the workers’ bodies, but I can’t imagine it gets any warmer.
There’s no doubt who it’s meant for.
At least one person in the nearest town resents my presence enough that they thought it worth smearing their dislike across an imperial building.
Marclinus slides over and cranes his neck to take in the sight. He clicks his tongue and turns to the cavalryman. “If your colleagues find the perpetrator, see that they’re properly punished.”
He glances at me with a hint of a smirk. “I’m sure the people will come around as they see how well you serve me.”
“These things take time,” I say graciously, but I have to make a conscious effort not to clench my hands in my frustration.
I don’t want whatever good will I build with Dariu’s people to be based only on what I do for their emperor. If that’s all I have, then the moment the emperor is gone, they’ll see no use in me.
They need to know how well I can serve them .
Will everything I’ve done with the confirmation rites and the other overtures I’ve attempted satisfy the common folk once word has time to spread? Providing an heir won’t even matter if I haven’t earned enough loyalty for them to let me steer the empire until he or she is grown.
Marclinus yanks the curtain across the window as if putting an end to any discussion of the incident. The carriage rattles on along the road until we stop right in front of the waystation building.
When I step out to stretch my legs, my personal guards draw closer to me, making their presence known more than I’m used to. I bite back a grimace.
They must be worried about what other hostilities I could face here.
Farther down the convoy, the sun glances off Lorenzo’s thick black hair as he ambles toward the still-bustling workers. I suppose he’s going to put his gift to use again trying to sway a few more citizens in my favor.
The gloom that settled over me this morning thickens, as if I’m draped in a sweltering fog. The furtive conversation I had with my princes last night and the whispered plans we confirmed feel so paltry now in the light of day .
If I’m going to ignore my godlen’s guidance and carve out my own path, I need to fight for it.
But what else can I do that won’t harm any of the people I’m fighting for?
While I stew over that problem, the kitchen workers start bringing out our platters of lunch. Marclinus has been strutting along the convoy calling on other friends, but he climbs back into the carriage with me to eat.
I’ve barely taken a bite of my ham-and-egg tart when knuckles rap against the carriage door. High Commander Axius’s grim face shows at the window.
He focuses his attention only on Marclinus. “Your Imperial Majesty, a messenger has reached us from Lavira. I’d like to update you on current developments as soon as you’re ready to hear them.”
Marclinus’s gaze flits briefly to me. I expect him to make some patronizing remark and go off with the high commander to have their discussion where I can’t listen in. Instead, his lips curl with another smirk.
He motions for Axius to join us. “You might as well tell me the news right now. I’m sure my wife can find some way to occupy her mind while we talk business.”
Ah. He’s going to rub it in my face that I’m not supposed to contribute to the discussion. Perhaps this is even another test—confirming that I will hold my tongue, no matter what the news is.
I do want to know what’s been happening in Lavira even if I can’t weigh in with my own opinions. At least I’ll be prepared if my husband ever does let me into his confidence again.
The high commander doesn’t look entirely pleased with the situation, but he lowers himself onto the bench next to me so he can face Marclinus, giving me as much space as the carriage allows. While his emperor gulps down bits of tart and sliced fruit with splashes of wine, he gives his report.
“There’s been one new incident, an attack of hostile magic destroying a couple of Darium ships that’ve been carrying goods across Lake Union. Thanks to our soldiers’ alertness, one of the perpetrators has been apprehended. Tribune Valerisse is overseeing his questioning personally and is hopeful he’ll provide information that allows us to root out the main instigators of the uprising.”
Marclinus hums around another sip of wine. “It sounds as though the traitors have been faltering in general. We’ve put plenty of fear into them.”
He casts his gaze toward me once more with a cool glint in his eyes, as if to rub in the fact that his preferred strategy of unchecked violence appears to have been successful.
Maybe his approach did work. Maybe the rebellion will be quelled sooner because of his tactics. That doesn’t mean all the innocents who died along the way deserved their fate.
But as he goes on to recommend some methods of torture that make my stomach shudder, I find myself studying my husband from the corner of my eye.
His arrogant assurance and his flippant approach to enforcing his rule have rankled me. I haven’t really considered the ways in which they’re effective.
His family has held this half of the continent in hand for centuries. They’re hardly inept. And they know what their own people want to see to keep loyalties at home strong.
I’ve resented that Marclinus refused my advice, but I’ve never asked for his .
Despite my queasiness, my conviction grows. I have him right now. Why shouldn’t I use him?
Even if in the end, it’ll be to bring about his own doom.
Marclinus says something about making an example of the ringleaders and then pauses to swallow the last morsel of his tart. “Well, that should set things back to rights well enough. Where’s your lunch, man? I can’t have my military advisor starving himself.”
Before Axius can answer, Marclinus is waving out the window for another meal to be brought over. The high commander shifts on the bench as if he’d rather be elsewhere, but he stays put to accept the tray.
All the better. He might as well put his mind to this task as well.
I clasp my hands on my lap. “Husband, I’ve been thinking about another matter. Considering recent incidents, including what we saw here at the waystation…”
Marclinus cocks his head. “What about it? Spit out whatever’s on your mind, wife.”
I draw my posture a little straighter. “I don’t think the efforts I’ve been making so far have been enough. No one in Dariu should be able to doubt that you’ve chosen the right partner to serve you. I need to make a larger, more overt demonstration of my loyalties, something that will prove to our people just how devoted I am to them and this empire. You know them better than anyone. I’d love to hear what you’d suggest.”
A gleam lights in Marclinus’s eyes. “Would you now? Let me think on it. I’m sure we could come up with something delightfully impressive.”