Chapter Thirteen The Villainess’s Honour Is Defended
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Villainess’s Honour Is Defended
When the last dance was danced out, when the merriment and music faded and even the blazing torches burned low, the Emperor did not let go of the lady’s hand. Under the approving gaze of the court, the lady blushed.
Any woman would be honoured to be the Emperor’s choice, but the Emperor’s courtship appeared to have truly won her heart. The lowest whispers behind gilded masks and full goblets said he had won more than that.
The lowest whispers were true. The lady smiled up at the Emperor, as sweetly as she had in his warm bed.
The flame of every torch leaped high at the sound of the Emperor’s voice. “I am not a kind man. I’m not a man at all. I am a cruel and pitiless monster. Trust me in one thing alone. I am a husband as true as steel, as loyal as a dog that sleeps each night on a grave.”
The lady’s eyes shone. “A true and loyal husband is all I could ask.”
The Emperor replied, “I didn’t say I was yours.”
Obeying the Emperor’s every thought, his ghoul guards raised the velvet curtain. As the curtain lifted, the court beheld the Emperor’s surprise for the lady.
The throne for a queen, with its gilded bone wings and marble seat. And the queen upon the throne.
The dead queen.
Face as lovely as the day she died, fresh as a flower though as still as the tomb. Lia’s body was fastened to her throne with silver thread. Her corpse made the most beautiful puppet.
The Emperor said, “She believed goodness was real, friends could be trusted, and love might be true. She died because she was wrong.”
He studied the face of the lady in his grasp.
“Did you really think,” the Emperor asked quietly, “I was a fool who would never learn your secrets? What a mistake.”
Calmly, in the same manner he used when relaying strategies for battle, the Emperor explained to the court how the lady had betrayed Queen Lia to her death.
He called out the lady’s conspirators, each by name, some the highest ministers in the land.
When escapes were attempted, dead guards blocked the windows and doors.
The lady struggled desperately, a fish on a hook, unable to escape the Emperor’s gauntlets.
“She never loved you. I did it all for love of you!”
“How flattering.” The Emperor sounded bored. “Someday I hope people tell their children terrifying stories about the things I did for love.”
The Emperor’s gaze swept from the lady to the miserable huddle of conspirators.
“If you hope for mercy, do not look to me. I’ve never had any. Crawl to your queen. Kiss her feet. And beg.”
The court watched as the conspirators trembled, turned ashen and crawled, every one of them, on their knees to kiss the dead woman’s feet.
The clever lady of the court crawled last, but she crawled.
Across the ballroom floor, where she had danced in the Emperor’s arms. The head that had been held so high hung low.
When the lady’s lips touched the dead queen’s slippers, a tear fell, too.
Then the lady rose, brushing off her silken gown.
“All hail the true queen,” said the Emperor, and ripped the lady’s heart out.
The body crumpled to the night-dark floor in a sigh of silk, the bloody heart wrenched out and hurled away. The Emperor whirled on another conspirator, one of the highest ministers in the land. His orichal claws scythed through the burning air, carving the heart from the minister’s chest.
“Now you know how it feels,” the Emperor told the minister’s corpse, and lunged for the next conspirator.
As screams rose higher than music and the black floor turned rose-red, a knock sounded on the door.
Invitations to the Burning Hearts Ball had been precious and carefully watched, and none were left unaccounted for.
Even in the midst of horror, there was a certain awful steady quality to the knock.
Like a bell tolling, or as if the slow footsteps of doom were suddenly very close.
The crier at the door gathered his failing courage. “The Oracle, voice of the Great Goddess, has arrived at the Emperor’s ball.”
The Once and Forever Emperor series, now revised, ANONYMOUS
“Sire.” A minister cleared his throat. “The Golden Cobra might prove a dangerous enemy.”
The shadow of wings on the Emperor’s throne spread, falling across the man’s face as though a huge bird of prey flew overhead, ready to swoop down on its prey. Under its shadow, the minister fell silent.
From his throne, the Emperor smiled. “Let me make myself clear. I am the dangerous enemy you should worry about. I don’t like nobles. I kept some of you alive because I thought you might be useful. If you aren’t useful? You don’t live.”
The night the Emperor rose, and his ghouls ate the rich, Rae hadn’t realized there was strategy involved besides lashing out at the system that had crushed and cast him into the abyss.
She should have. A memory of the Night Market flashed upon her: Key glancing at a board game and knowing in an instant what move to make.
The Emperor would be the great tactician and conqueror of the age.
Prime Minister Pio advanced on the throne and bowed deeply. “We are honoured you selected us as worthy. We will not fail you, sire.”
She saw the soothing effect that had on the rest of the court. People liked to be chosen.
Since Pio was helping her, she would help him. Rae leaned in to flick the Emperor’s earring with a red-tipped fingernail, in true harlot fashion, and whispered, “What a useful man.”
When he leaned in, the orichal inlaid upon his pauldron crushed against her partially bared breasts. The touch was brief, a glance of metal cold with a sizzling overlay of enchantment like iced lightning kissing her skin. It reminded her she was vulnerable. And he was not.
The Emperor murmured back, “My evil chancellor stood up for me at the assembly earlier. I’m pleased you agree he’s the best one.”
That sounded like a guarantee Pio would live, and another chance of happiness for Key. In the books the Emperor never got along with any of his ministers. Rae pulled away, a little flustered, to give the prime minister an encouraging smile.
Another minister, clearly wracking his brains for a way to be useful, called out: “Sire, I have a brilliant idea. Since your betrothal is now in question, we could suggest sealing a peace with Tagar through your marriage to Princess Vasilisa.”
Several other ministers murmured approval. The prime minister’s mouth flattened, which surprised Rae. She would have expected Pio to agree.
“Princess Vasilisa is already engaged to my son,” Commander Nemeth snapped.
“The Queen’s Trials is a game my lady chooses to play,” the Emperor said coldly. “My betrothal is not in question.”
Unwisely, the minister persisted: “Betrothals can be of little significance compared to the war.”
Key had very expressive eyebrows. What they mostly expressed was murderous intent. He raised one like a curved blade.
“Lady Rahela is naturally charming, as is your youthful enthusiasm.” Pio rushed in hastily. “What my esteemed colleague wishes to say is, an imperial betrothal is a matter of state and requires careful consideration. There is the question of heirs.”
“Consider the rumoured relationship between Lady Rahela and the late king,” Nemeth struck in. “The realm will demand heirs born beyond all doubt from a virtuous marriage bed.”
The commander general must have a death wish. Rae hardly dared look at Key.
When she did, the Emperor was slouching, elbow leaned back against the arm of his throne. He seemed incapable of sitting on the throne in a normal manner.
“Esteemed ministers of the court,” the Emperor purred. “I must make a dark confession.”
The Emperor leaned forward.
The court held their collective breath.
The anticipation was terrible.
“I’m not a virgin,” declared the Emperor. “I had no idea that rendered someone ineligible for marriage.”
Rae wanted desperately to laugh. Many characters were enthroned in dark glory. Few sat in dark glory and made sex jokes. She had chosen her favourite well.
The Emperor caught Rae’s eye questioningly.
Rae shook her head. “Just wondering about your body count.”
“Oh, hundreds and hundreds of people.”
Rae almost fell out of her throne. “Hundreds of—”
The Emperor appeared to be doing mathematics in his head. “If my ghouls killed them, does that add to my count?”
Rae sagged with relief. “I wasn’t actually talking about murder.”
Now she considered the matter, the phrase “body count” did imply people should feel guilty.
The Emperor, unfamiliar with the concept of guilt, smiled. “Oh, I see. Not hundreds and hundreds of people, then.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“That takes much longer than killing someone.”
“How much longer—” began Rae, smiling back, then cut herself off as she realized they were having this conversation in front of the entire court.
The faces of the ministers were aghast.
They could discuss Rae’s sex life and imply she should be punished for it, but apparently it was shocking if she discussed having a sex life. Especially if she might enjoy it.
“I have not had carnal knowledge of the Lady Rahela,” the Emperor informed his ministers, very softly. “I will not go to her bed until we are married, because the idiot custom of this imbecile court says that is how to honour a bride. I intend to honour her above all others, in every way possible.”
Rae’s fingers, still laced with the Emperor’s, jerked. The sharp claws grazed her skin, a ghost of pain making her shiver. She didn’t know if Key fully understood the subtext in what he had just said.
Key gave her a sidelong glance. “My lady, there are many ways I can please you.”
“Right,” Rae whispered. “Subtext is for cowards, I guess.”
“Have I made myself clear, my evil chancellor?”
Pio murmured, with the expression of a man who would say anything to end this conversation, “Of course, sire.”