Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Aurelia
C rouched down by the small prickly shrubs at the edge of the kitchen herb gardens, I pluck one pale yellow blossom and another. I attempted a brew with a few of these earlier this morning, but they were younger flowers, still the brighter yellow they show when the petals first unfurl. Some prodding of my gift has led me to believe that the older blooms will result in a more discreet formula.
My guards stand off to the side several paces away. It’s awfully difficult to collect potion ingredients in private with them tailing me, but they’ve had plenty of time to get used to my odd habits like tea-making.
There’s no way they could realize that the flower I’m harvesting now is for a traitorous scheme rather than my morning herbal blend.
As I tuck the flowers into the pouch at my hip and straighten up, my heart thumps at a rapid, dissonant rhythm. I’m still not happy with the sedative I’ve been trying to craft. How many more chances will I get at brewing it before I have to make do with a version that could expose my plans?
It isn’t just my life on the line now but the men I love’s as well. They’ll be the ones carrying out the last part of the plan—the longest part of the plan, with the most chances of getting caught…
My stomach turns with a fresh wave of nausea. I push the anxiety aside as well as I can.
As I turn to return to the palace, I spot Marclinus striding toward me with High Commander Axius and more than his usual coterie of guards in tow. My pulse hitches to an even faster pace.
My husband comes to a stop by the garden and eyes me up and down. His tone comes out cool. “Wife, what are you doing scrouging around in the dirt?”
Raul’s words about needing to dive down deep in the muck of the empire rise up from my memory. I suppress a slightly hysterical bubble of laughter and simply smile instead.
“I thought to brew myself a new flavor of tea that will put me in particularly bold spirits when it’s time for our next rite.”
“I never would have thought you lacked for boldness,” Marclinus says with a hint of amusement. “I’ll remind you as I have before that we do have servants for certain tasks.”
I shrug as casually as I’m capable of. “My gift shows me exactly what I need, but it isn’t always easy to convey the exact specifications in words. One wrong ingredient can result in unpleasant effects.”
“I suppose that’s to be expected when one brings in an empress who might as well be a medic.” He cocks his head. “I assume this tea isn’t an urgent matter?”
The potion I actually need to brew is, but I can’t tell him that.
I resist the urge to set my hand on my stomach. I’ve only known about the new life growing inside me since last night, but a new protective instinct has already formed that’s focused on my belly.
That new life isn’t going to get a chance to come into being if I’m not alive to support it. I have to protect myself before any other consideration.
And I’m not sure yet whether revealing my condition will skew Marclinus’s unpredictable moods in my favor or not. I want to time the announcement perfectly.
Now, with my fingers sap-stained and several soldiers looking on, definitely doesn’t feel like the right moment, even if claiming a pregnancy-related weakness might get me out of this conversation.
I dip my head in acknowledgment. “Not at all. Is there another matter we need to attend to?”
A sharp smile curves my husband’s lips. “I’ve just gotten word that the Lavirian traitors have reached the city. They’re being held in the prison near the arena. I’m off to have a look at them now. Would you like to join me?”
That explains the presence of all these soldiers.
My gut lurches with the urge to balk. The last thing I want to do is gaze into the faces of the beaten figures who tried to fight back against the empire’s oppression and failed, one of whom I’m supposed to murder for my own glory.
But an empress who’s actually dedicated to her empire and eager to face the rite she volunteered for wouldn’t shy from the opportunity.
I gird myself. “Of course. Thank you for coming to find me. ”
We amble out to the front of the palace where the gleaming imperial carriage is waiting, along with a couple of other vehicles in the much more subdued indigo, gray, and black of the imperial guard. Marclinus doesn’t appear to be in any hurry, and I can’t hasten his pace without raising questions.
My heart thuds on. If the prisoners have arrived, that means we’ll face the rite tomorrow, doesn’t it? I can’t shut myself away for the entire afternoon and evening attempting different brews.
I’m only going to get a few more attempts at concocting the potion both my life and that of my rebel opponent will depend on.
Axius and another soldier whose uniform suggests he’s a ranking officer climb into our carriage with us, our personal guards taking their spots on the outer seats. The high commander sits stern and silent, but I can sense his disapproval with a prickling sensation over my skin.
He still doesn’t believe I have any place carrying out these rites. Gods only know how he’d react if he found out I mean to battle a Lavirian rebel while carrying a child supposedly the emperor’s heir.
How much does his attitude affect the rest of the soldiers? I know I’ve gained some ground with them, but it must be hard to ignore the sway of their highest superior’s opinions.
At least he’s reasonably quiet about his qualms while his underlings are nearby.
Marclinus doesn’t appear bothered by his advisor’s reserve. He leans back on the cushioned bench with a dispassionate air and glances over at me. “Among the six of the miscreants who helped orchestrate the uprising, there’s one woman. It seems fitting that she’ll be your challenge in the rite. ”
It’s hard to say whether that should be a relief. A woman can fight just as viciously as a man, especially when she has no other choice. Our godlen of war is female, after all.
At least I shouldn’t have to worry about facing an opponent more than a foot taller or vastly outweighing me.
“Fitting indeed,” I agree. “I’m curious to see all of them. Have there been no further incidents in Lavira since their arrest?”
He grins. “No reports so far. I hear there was quite a display with the other ringleaders by the royal palace in the capital, while the Lavirian queen and king spoke out against the assaults.”
Axius nods. “I don’t expect we’ll see any further trouble. Our officers will be monitoring the situation closely for some time all the same.”
All those defiant spirits have been crushed into submission. How much more pain will my husband inflict on his conquered people before I can crush him ?
For a second, the enormity of everything I need to accomplish before I can heal the empire presses down on me in a suffocating cloud. I inhale slowly, willing my nerves to settle.
One step at a time. That’s the only way I’ll see my whole purpose through.
When the carriage stops, we emerge into a ring of guards. They surround Marclinus and me all the way into the dim stone building.
The sour smells of sweat and human waste clog my nose. Marclinus strides on as if unfazed, with occasional flicks of his gaze toward me. He’s watching to see how I’m handling the unpleasantness.
I keep my head high and my breaths shallow. Axius leads us down a couple of hallways to a row of cells with barred doors, three on either side .
Wan light seeps through the single window set high in the wall, too narrow for even the skinniest human being to squeeze through. It illuminates six figures with dirt-stained skin and rumpled peasant clothing.
They peer over at our arrival. Most are sitting hunched against one or another wall. One man comes right to the bars, baring his teeth in a threatening sneer.
Another only glances our way briefly in the midst of pacing the short length of his cell. The scrape of his footsteps carries through the space like the underlying rhythm to a horrific song.
Marclinus saunters farther down the hall and points out one of the prisoners. “Here’s yours, wife.”
The woman glares at him and then me through the lank strands of her mousy brown hair that she’s let fall over her face. The arms wrapped around her knees are slim but sinewy with compact muscle. She won’t be able to overpower me easily, but she won’t be an easy opponent either.
Dark shadows hollow out her eyes, and her lips are cracked, but studying her, I’m not sure she’s any older than I am.
She wanted to bring her country a better future just like I do, and this is the thanks she got.
Her voice comes out in a rough croak. “And here’s the emperor’s whore. Gape all you want, backstabbing cunt.”
One of the soldiers bangs on the bars by her face. “Shut your traitorous mouth.”
She falls silent, but the prisoners’ eyes all around the hall have narrowed.
They don’t see a fellow freedom-fighter, of course. They think that I’m here for the same reason as Marclinus: to gloat over the empire’s triumph and their failure. They assume I turned my back on my country as much as all of theirs to support these horrors .
And I’m going to have to prove them right in the eyes of all the Darium spectators. I’m going to have to face these glares in the middle of the vast arena, drawing blood and no doubt having my own spilled in a desperate struggle.
My gut twists. I drag my gaze away to focus on my husband instead. “I assume the rite will be carried out tomorrow as planned? I should decide on my weapon so I have a chance to get familiar with it.”
Marclinus waves off my request. “The cleric who oversees the rite picks our instruments of battle with Sabrelle’s guidance. You don’t need to worry your head about that at all.”
My skin turns even clammier than I can blame on the atmosphere of the prison.
I do need to worry. I’m going to have to coat the blade with my potion surreptitiously in the moments before my battle rather than getting an opportunity to doctor it ahead of time.
We head back through the halls away from the cells. In the prison’s broad front room, Axius draws our squad of soldiers to a halt.
Perhaps a little of my uneasiness has shown on my face despite my best efforts, or perhaps the high commander is merely expressing doubts he feels he can’t keep quiet any longer. Either way, he clears his throat.
“Your Imperial Majesty, perhaps seeing the full reality of what awaits her, Her Imperial Highness might reconsider her intention to go through with the rite. It is quite a bit more intense than those before. You’re trained for battle—her preferred weapon is that tiny knife. I’d hate to see our empress injured, however fair we make the match.”
Marclinus turns to face me. My gaze darts from his penetrating eyes to the soldiers around us. Most of them have tensed, their mouths tight or slanted with traces of their own uncertainty.
All they see is a pampered princess in a pretty dress who thinks she’s going to spar with a hardened criminal. They probably can’t imagine me rising to the challenge of tomorrow’s battle.
When I return my attention to my husband, he arches an eyebrow. “It isn’t too late to back out. If you feel this is a step too far for you, there’s no shame in sitting on the sidelines as the imperial consorts generally do.”
A tremor runs through my nerves. In that moment, the idea of taking him up on his offer comes with the sweetest of relief.
I could sit on my cushioned bench and not have to slash or stab, not have to grapple with an enemy whose cause I actually believe in. Not have to worry that the princes I love will meet their own dire fates when they stick out their necks to help me.
I don’t even know if the strategy I’ve devised with my princes will appease Sabrelle. Will she consider it an honor that I’ve shirked my supposed duty, even if I’ve made the appearance of fulfilling her rite? How will the godlen react if she doesn’t ?
Will she punish me… or the men who suggested the idea?
I could probably back out without losing respect I’ve gained with Marclinus through my past efforts—however much respect I’ve actually gained rather than ire. I’d simply have to reveal my pregnancy and use it as an excuse, and no one could blame me for not putting myself and the coming imperial heir in any danger.
All those thoughts flood my head, dizzying me. But a deeper ache holds me steady .
Our people would understand my shrinking from the challenge now. How will it affect their view of me in the future?
I’ll be setting myself up as simply a receptacle for the children I’m meant to bear Marclinus, with no real might or courage of my own. Why would anyone accept a mere vessel as a ruler when their “real” leader is gone?
When I ran through fire to claim the man in front of me as my husband, I was leaving the men I’d actually fallen for behind. That hasn’t stopped them from standing with me again, even if it’s from the shadows.
I’m not alone in this challenge. I have people I can rely on who are as committed as I am to seeing this plan through. I can’t let my fears for their safety hold me back.
I need to believe in their strength and in my own if I’m going to think beyond my next move to put myself in the best possible position to accomplish my bigger dreams.
Lifting my chin, I offer an assured smile. “I appreciate your and the high commander’s concern for my well-being, but I’m quite certain of my choice. All the people of Dariu deserve to know that I’ll fight for the good of the empire in every way I can, even if it means putting myself at risk. If that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t be worthy of serving them or you.”
The gleam in Marclinus’s eyes tells me I’ve pleased him. Today, at least, he likes me fierce in my devotion.
Just as important are the brief smiles that flash across the faces of several of our guards. They might not believe I’ll handle myself all that impressively in the arena tomorrow, but my mettle has won me a little admiration.
“Then it’s settled.” My husband rests his hand on my shoulder to guide us the rest of the way to the waiting carriages. “Tomorrow morning, you can show our citizens just how much of a fighter you are. ”
As I clamber into my seat, my stomach lurches. Tomorrow morning .
I know I’ve made the right decision, but the danger in it hasn’t vanished.
In less than a day, I need to be perfectly ready, or nothing I’ve won up until now will matter at all.