Chapter 14
Fourteen
A few hours later, after Nohe and two servants of her choosing had dressed me and then spent another hour making sure the fall of my jacket and the fit of my pants and shirt were perfect, I presented myself at court.
It was the same as last time, although now I didn’t see a room full of metal statues but instead saw the ebb and flow of power. As I walked in, I noted Rute in the back, a courtesan on one arm, entertaining the twins that General Kacha had introduced. A few more courtiers swirled in their orbit, and I remembered their faces from the lake party, although I couldn’t name them.
Velethuil stood near the edge of the room, his brilliant smile making those around him draw close. His patron, General Kacha, was nowhere to be found, although I saw General Saxu in the corner, his dark clothes blending into the shadows almost as well as the gray robes of the Emperor’s Dogs did.
These were the fissures of the court. I could see others but wasn’t sure what they meant yet. The ministers were in two separate groups, and whether that was simply an issue of space or because there was a divide in their ranks was unclear.
As I entered, the crowd parted for me. Whispers stopped. Velethuil fixed his eyes on me, and Rute waved away the twins, each trying to get his attention.
Tallu sat on his throne, unmoving, surrounded by all of this beauty yet interacting with none of it. When I got to the bottom of the dais, I nodded.
“My lord,” I said. I was aware it was an intimacy he’d denied Eona?. I should have referred to him by Your Imperial Majesty, but the more informal felt right after all that we’d been through together.
“Prince Airón.” Tallu gestured with the flat of his hand toward a small chair next to his own. It was plain in comparison to the throne, but its reason for existence was clear.
I was being given a place in his court.
Looking to the side, I saw one of the Emperor’s Dogs hiding in the shadows. It wasn’t Asahi, who I had left at the doorway to court. And Sagam stood behind the emperor’s throne. So there was no one I could ask for clarification.
Exhaling, I took the first step up, mounting the dais in three strides. This close, I saw the throne clearly for the first time. I had assumed it was made of wood, lacquered black and imposing, to give the largest effect. Now, I realized the shape of it was all wrong, the texture was wrong.
The throne was made of bones, ones that had been burned to a crisp, charred from flames. The size of them exposed what they must be. Tallu sat on a throne of dragon bones.
The emperor whose imperial legacy had started with the death of the One Dragon was sitting on a throne made of her bones. At least the seat he’d had made for me was only wood.
I sat in the chair.
“Prince Airón and I will marry in two weeks, on the full moon. The dragon soothsayer has declared that the day, and she has blessed our union.” Tallu looked over the court. “Preparations have already begun.”
“Our most enthusiastic congratulations, cousin,” Rute said, his voice carrying over the court. He bowed low, triangling his fingers, then turned to me and did the same.
The rest of the court immediately followed, each congratulating both of us. General Kacha’s absence was even more notable as General Saxu bowed and offered his support.
As the line of well-wishers diminished, I could hear the whispers in the rest of the room. From his position, Tallu could as well. The room had been designed so that, when sitting on the throne, an emperor could hear any number of secret conversations.
“Two weeks!” Pito whispered. “He still looks like such a savage!”
“Well, in two weeks, perhaps he can at least look less like a savage. Should we ask if he wants our services?” Topi asked, and I couldn’t see the twins, but I could hear Pito’s lengthy response as she considered what an opportunity it would be to get close to the royal consort.
“So, we’re getting married in two weeks?” I asked, trying a smile I’d used often to get out of chores. “Hopefully, the wedding is less exciting than the engagement appointment was. Is there a limit to the number of assassination attempts before we’re declared married by default?”
“Three,” Tallu said. “Although I do find them tiring, so perhaps we’ll declare it two to avoid the exhaustion.”
“Yes, tiring, and they result in injuries that make life difficult.” I watched his expression, waiting for the spark of curiosity. But he didn’t even blink, and there was no reaction to my hint about his leg.
Instead, his eyes roamed over the room, head tilted as he listened to all the whispers that no one wanted him to hear.
He didn’t ask about his leg. He didn’t ask, and my mind spiraled: why didn’t he ask ?
“There are some people I think we should add to the invitation list,” I said.
“There is not enough time for anyone from the Northern Kingdom to attend,” Tallu said, turning his head. Now I had his full attention.
“No. Not the north,” I said. “General Saxu said you disbanded the council.”
Tallu’s eyebrows twitched, and he glanced toward the high general, still lingering in the corner of the room.
Despite his rank, no one approached him, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was fear or disdain. Had General Kacha turned opinion away from Saxu so effectively?
“Yes. I did.” Tallu spoke precisely, his eyes still fixed on my face, and I met them; I needed him to see my reasoning, to agree with it even though it was foolish.
“I think you should invite any exiled council members or whatever heirs of theirs are living to the wedding,” I said.
“Why?” Tallu asked. Some in the room had noticed Tallu’s fixation with me, and I heard a whisper, as though it was made directly in my ear, that of course his preferences would be toward animals; after all, everyone knew what his father liked.
“We have no idea who was behind the assassination attempt. Rute and Kacha, possibly, but who has closer access to Krustavian soldiers than those living in the conquered lands?” I forced myself to keep his gaze rather than look away. “And it will prove who in this room is still loyal to them. Your ministers are divided. Is that because of real disagreements, or do some of them still bear affection for the council members you exposed?”
“You want to turn our wedding into a rat hunt?” Tallu asked. From the tone of his voice, he might as well have been asking about the weather.
“I want to turn our wedding into an opportunity to show who is loyal to you. You need to know. And maybe one of the heirs wasn’t guilty of their father’s sins.” I looked down, then up, through my lashes. It was a move that Eona? had perfected, pure innocence. And I had her face, I had her eyes. I should be able to pull it off as well as she could.
Tallu’s face twitched, as though struck, and that was good enough. He nodded. “Perhaps some of them did not deserve the punishment my father meted out. And if one of them was behind the attack, it will be easier to know it when they’re here. Anyone hiring Krustavian mercenaries wouldn’t have the courage to kill me themselves.”
I relaxed. Tallu was accepting the reasons I put forth and not realizing who he was inviting back into his palace, even if I did. I was from the Northern Kingdom. The Northern Kingdom knew how grudges grew when nursed with bitterness and hopelessness.
“Is that the wedding gift you ask of me?” Tallu asked, his voice so quiet that I read his words on his lips more than heard them in my ears.
“No. It is advice from your future consort,” I said. “For a wedding gift, I want something very expensive. I hear you like metal things here in the south. Give me something pretty. Metal. Something that will remind me of you when you’re busy elsewhere.”
Tallu turned away, looking back at the court, but I saw the slightest smile on the corner of his lips, there for half a second before it disappeared into his standard neutral expression.
“Something expensive and metal,” he said finally.
“That will remind me of you,” I agreed.
“If I get you that, what will you give me?” Tallu asked. “In the south, gifts are given from both parties.”
Well, I had a wedding gift for him in the form of a knife to the heart, but I doubted that was what he was asking for.
“I’ll think of something,” I said. “After all, I have two weeks.”
I did not think of anything. After court, I went back to my quarters and immediately checked under the mattress in the hole I’d carved for my weapons and the two purses of imperial coins.
It was then I realized the rabbit skin pouch was missing. My blood ran cold. The dragon egg was gone. I had it when we’d gone to the temple. In the water, when we had leapt in, it had been tied tightly to my clothes.
I had vague memories of it from the cottage in the forest, and then…
When Nohe came back, ready to help me into a new outfit for dinner, I asked her, “What happened to my clothes—the ones I was wearing yesterday? Someone at the emperor’s quarters must have undressed me.”
“They were sent to the laundry,” she said immediately. “I can ask for them, although I think the laundry servants might have torn them for scraps. They were covered in blood.”
Nohe looked down, clearly uncomfortable.
“Was that all? There was no pouch on my waist?” I gestured to my hip, where I’d tied the rabbit skin pouch to the pants myself.
Frowning, Nohe shook her head. “No. Would you like me to ask one of the emperor’s servants or the Emperor’s Dogs?”
I shook my head. If the Emperor’s Dogs had it, that meant the emperor had it. And what would he do when he found out I brought a dragon egg into the Imperial Capital?
It was almost better to have lost it in the river or in Liku and Miksha’s cabin. Maybe the blood mage would take care of it, grow it if it still lived.
“Prince Airón?” Nohe asked. She looked to me as though expecting an answer, and I shook my head sharply.
“Yes. What was the question?”
“In order to have the wedding clothes ready, the seamstress asked if she could see you today.” Nohe was frowning. “Or I can ask for the doctor to come back.”
“No need. I’ll see the seamstress. What else needs to be prepared in advance of the wedding?” I looked at her imploringly, hoping she would take mercy on me and do everything necessary. Eona? would know what to do, all the required steps, but I was foolish, and I had spent more time on strategy than on etiquette.
With one last concerned look, Nohe began explaining what I would need to do to marry the emperor of the Southern Imperium.
A week later, I had three sets of clothes ordered for the wedding itself, gifts for everyone who needed one, a list of important people I needed to memorize, and all of the formal, ceremonial words I would need to say the day of the wedding. It took a few days for me to work up to asking Nohe about the paper.
“You asked me whether letters to the Northern Kingdom were different than letters from the Imperium.” We were sitting across from each other in the main sitting room of my quarters at Turtle House. The afternoon light filtered in, and Asahi stood at the doorway, doing his very best not to look disappointed in me for every single one of my decisions before this moment. “Are all letters from the other nations made differently? As the steward of Turtle House, you must know. After all, you housed all the visiting dignitaries.”
“Yes.” Nohe straightened up, briefly forgetting the task of teaching me the proper hand gesture for thank you for the gift , which was entirely different from this is terrible, but I’m too polite to say so because it involved two fingers instead of three.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Well, people from Ristorium rarely write at all. They mostly send their missives via song. When they do write down a note, it’s in a small tube that the air mages can lift into the air and send flying to its destination.” She smiled fondly. Then her eyes lit, and she stood, going out into the main rooms and returning a few moments later with a wooden box. She opened it, revealing neatly organized sets of stationery and other writing supplies.
“This was from my predecessor. She believed it was our duty as hosts to have everything a guest would need on hand, even things that we don’t use here in the Imperium.” She took out what looked like a piece of leather, thin and flexible and stained with black marks. “The Ariphadi send missives on animal skins. They don’t use paper. I was taught they deem wasting anything down in the desert to be shameful, so all their letters are on leather that can be wiped away when returning a note.”
“Interesting. I suppose if the north was the same, we’d write everything on ice.” I smiled to show it was a joke. “We do deliver most messages via bird. There’s special carriers we attach to some birds’ feet, and they’ll travel from town to town, delivering any messages that need to be read right away.”
Her eyes lit up, and I realized that Nohe had spent her entire life in the Imperial Palace, serving people from other places. Part of her wished that she could see the places her charges came from.
“What about Krustau?” I asked casually.
“They’re truly interesting,” she said, taking out what looked like a chipped piece of rock. “They write letters like we do, but they seal theirs with a special kind of rock that melts like wax when heated. It makes it difficult to open without a blade.”
“Oh, they use seals?” I asked, opening my eyes wide with pretend curiosity. Internally, I cursed. This was going to make forging a letter difficult without the stone wax.
“Yes, but not with signet rings like in the Dragon Chosen days. Instead, they use the hilt of their blades.” She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. “We had a man from Krustau here only a few years ago, and he would hold his blade to the flame and use the heated hilt to melt the wax onto the letters.”
“Interesting,” I said. I offered over my hand, and Nohe placed the rock in my palm. It was heavy and cold. If she hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have known that it was anything more than a normal rock.
“You know”—Nohe’s voice dropped to a whisper—“Empress Koque took a liking to the practice and began to use it on all of her correspondence.”
“She did?” I asked, curious. Very few people talked about the dead empress, and I wondered at that. Was it trying to earn my favor by not bringing up my predecessor? Or was it the simple logic that bringing up the empress meant bringing up her husband, and it wasn’t likely to earn Tallu’s favor, talking about the father he’d killed.
“Yes, it was eminently popular due to her affection for it. We couldn’t get the genuine Krustau rocks here, but courtiers began mimicking her using candle wax.” Nohe began packing everything away. “At least it was that way until her next fascination. Poetry, I believe.”
I considered the rock for a moment. She was going to put it away, and I wouldn’t know where it was without asking. It wasn’t like I could search cupboards.
If I asked to keep it, there was a chance she’d put together letters from Krustau I planted on Rute and my having the rock and… well, I couldn’t see her blackmailing me, but it was always possible.
Nohe was waiting, and I realized the rock was the last thing she needed to put away from her treasure trove of foreign writing accoutrements. I handed it over.
Carefully, Nohe packed it, closing the wooden lid and then running a hand along the engravings thoughtfully. She looked at the box as though it contained objects that were precious to her, as though everything in it was made of hope.
She swallowed, clearing her throat. “We should get back to our work, but I wanted to speak to you about Piivu.”
I frowned. The servant had been in my quarters almost every day. I wasn’t sure if Nohe had assigned him the duty or if he had simply taken the initiative, but he was acting as a valet and personal servant. Others from Turtle House came and went, their purpose clear. This one brought food, that one brought water for the bath, but Piivu seemed to make it his mission to meet all of my needs before I expressed them.
“What about him? Has he been making trouble?”
I couldn’t exactly see it. Piivu was quiet and attentive, but I also understood that how he behaved in front of me, his employer, was likely different from how he behaved with his peers.
“No. The opposite. He works until well past midnight, then disappears.” Nohe frowned. “I know he was a servant from Mountain Thrown buildings. And my equivalent in the Mountain Thrown buildings says he does not sleep in his own room. When his service was requested, did the word ever get passed to the palace administrator so he could be given a room in Turtle House?”
I could see how careful Nohe was being. I took almost no active part in her retelling of Piivu’s employment. I had not randomly ordered a servant to attend to my personal needs. I had not left some poor boy with only the vaguest of job descriptions and no housing.
I was sure that Nohe had the full story. There had been other servants at the party, other servants who had heard me speak to Piivu. It was impossible that she had failed to find out all the details.
“What can we do to make sure that he is housed with the other Turtle House servants?” I asked.
“I can draw up a letter, if Your Highness would be willing to sign it.” Nohe looked relieved when I nodded. “I understand he is quite attached to you, and you’ve been very patient with all of his errors.”
I hadn’t noticed a single error, but then again, I wasn’t my sister. I had no idea what an error would even look like when it came to the way servants should behave with their masters.
In the Northern Kingdom, we didn’t have servants like this. Sure, my mother employed people from the Silver City to clean and cook. But either they were already members of our clan, or they were hired help, only needed for a few weeks or months.
“He is eager to learn, and if he is new, so am I.” I smiled, feeling the tinge of wryness to it.
“I just worry because he has not gone out a single day. He eats the scraps left behind from your meals. He won’t join us for servants’ meals.” Nohe looked at me, trying to tell me something with her eyes, and I cursed myself for not paying the least bit of attention during Eona?’s lessons.
“Should I talk to him?”
“If Your Highness has time.” Nohe sounded relieved that I had finally gotten it.
“Of course. I’ll speak with him. And let’s make sure he gets quarters as soon as possible.”
Nohe nodded, disappearing with the box, but I had been forming another plan. Empress Koque had used Krustavian sealing wax. Given the size of the rock Nohe had presented me with, I found it unlikely that the empress had gone through every single one of her stash before she took it into disfavor.
Perhaps they had all been thrown away, but seeing as how Nohe had kept all of these accouterments for years, I doubted any servant of her caliber would simply toss something so valuable that was hard to get.
Which meant I needed to break into the empress’s quarters. It would be good practice for when I needed to break into Rute’s.
Piivu brought my lunch a few hours later as I was considering the parts of the palace that I could see from my window. He looked nervous, as though Nohe had already told him I needed to speak with him.
“Piivu, I had no idea that when I requested your presence, I also needed to request quarters. I’m arranging for you to be housed with the other Turtle House servants.” I looked over his face, seeing the hint of sweat on his upper lip, the careful way he held himself as though ready to take flight. “Your place with me is secure as long as you want it. In the Silver City, servants are not bound to their masters as they are in the Southern Imperium. So, forgive me if I make any mistakes.”
Piivu’s eyes widened, and he bowed immediately as he stuttered through, “Your Highness, I would never… That is… I’m incredibly grateful…”
“No. There may come a time when you no longer wish to be in my service. And I will happily release you. For now, I want you to take it as given that you are in my employ. You may leave Turtle House whenever you want. In fact, I encourage you to eat with the other servants. Go out. Nohe will assign you a day off every week, the same as the rest of the servants.”
Piivu’s eyes went wide, and he stuttered more awkward gratitude. I waved in what I hoped was an appropriate gesture instead of a dismissive one.
He quickly got the message, bowing himself out of the room.
“You’re thinking,” Terror said from the window, and I looked over to see the bird watching me. “You’re thinking about something else when you should be thinking about getting me food.”
“I am thinking about how to break into the empress’s quarters.” I walked over to the table, with a small bowl of nuts and dried fruits that had been appearing there frequently. Piivu knew I liked Terror and would provide food for him without me needing to ask.
“Why? You’ll just move in there after you get married.” Terror cocked his head at my surprised look. He cackled. “What? You think I can spy on everyone and not know that basic information?”
“I can’t wait until after the wedding,” I said thoughtfully. “I need it now.”
“Can’t you ask to see the quarters in advance?” Terror asked. “You’re terrible at this.”
Annoyed, I shut the window in the bird’s face. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
That night, I snuck out. I used some of the clothing I had packed back in the Silver City. If anyone had asked, I had planned to say it was training clothing—a dark gray shirt that clung to my limbs and tight pants that were the same color. But no one had asked.
Nohe, or likely some servant she had assigned, had carefully unpacked all of my belongings, and no one had asked any questions about them, not even the “ceremonial” knives or the shirts and jackets that were weighted as though something heavy sat sewn into their seams.
Asahi had seen me to bed, his eyes narrowing when I told him I didn’t want any disruptions before morning. At his suspicion, I theatrically rolled my eyes.
“Tomorrow, the first of the council members are arriving. Excuse me for being nervous about maybe meeting the people who tried to kill me.” I shook my head. “When you are stabbed and hit and dropped in icy water, you can feel nonchalant at having the people responsible in the same palace as you!”
Then I shut the door, turned off my lights, and waited until the house quieted. I meditated, I stretched, I turned over the series of things I had to take care of in my mind until I thought I had a plan forward.
Most people had been worried by the wedding invitations Tallu had sent to all of the living council members and the families of executed ones. Tallu was known for his politicking, known for being sneaky, so clearly, the emperor had some plan here the rest of the court was suspicious of.
I was not mentioned at all. Which was good, as it allowed me to play up my own fears, no matter how much Asahi disbelieved them.
When the moon had passed the halfway mark and the palace was quiet, I scaled the tree just outside my window and stepped onto the roof, then sped away as quietly as I could. My boots were made of well-broken leather, and I made no sound as I moved across the rooftops until I reached the part of the palace the throne room was in and had to scale a wall, then drop down and hide in the bushes.
The empress’s quarters were typically near the emperor’s but not actually inside the emperor’s personal quarters. It was a separate building, close enough that the emperor could summon the empress whenever he wanted her, and the empress would be available if he ever wanted to call on her, although she would never be allowed to make any of the same demands on him.
It was two people, theoretically sharing a life, but in reality, one was entirely at the whim of the other.
Was that what Tallu would be like as well? Would I spend all of my time wasting away, waiting to be called up like a doll inside a music box, waiting for the key to be turned?
A pair of guards passed, and I quickly regained my senses. I wasn’t marrying Tallu. Or, rather, I was, but only in order to complete my mission.
I darted to the next building, scaling a trellis until I was back on the roof, where I felt safer. This was what I had trained for. I had run endless roofs in the Silver City until I knew how to run and climb on tile and stone and shale better than the ground. Two more rooftops and I was finally at the empress’s building. During a long walk, I had cased the building before.
Just under the rooftop was a narrow window that had been left open to ventilate the whole building. That attic entry was my way in.
Once I found the right spot, I knelt down, grasping hold of the edge of the roof carefully before swinging my legs into the window. It was a tight fit, tighter than I expected, but I alit inside the attic of the building.
Years of training had taught me to land near silently, but as soon as my feet hit the ground and my body was inside, I knelt, holding still until I was confident I heard no feet pounding up the stairway.
The building was dark around me, shutters drawn closed over the windows, letting in only narrow strips of light where the wood didn’t quite meet. It illuminated boxes and furniture covered in dusty sheets, the smell of small animal nests telling me that this was as unused as I’d assumed from the gossip. I searched for the way out and saw it across the attic.
Stepping over to the narrow ladder, I lowered it and climbed down. Everything looked as though Empress Koque was about to step in from a long trip.
A book sat open on a side table as I passed through what looked like the library. A set of children’s toys was neatly put away in a basket next to a comfortable-looking chair.
The entire top level looked like the empress’s most intimate rooms—a private library, a playroom, a small dining room that could only fit two people. I stopped at the baby prince’s bedroom.
A crib took up most of the far wall, a plush sitting chair next to it, along with a set of unused knitting needles. Had the prince’s nursemaid died along with the empress and the emperor?
A strange shiver shook me. This was what they said Tallu had done. I had forgotten, with the flirting and the hidden smile.
I had to remember that Tallu had killed a child and its mother for the simple act of threatening his position, for the simple fact of their being in line for the imperial throne. I had to keep that close and remember blood on the tundra and bodies hacked to pieces by the Imperium. I had to remember whale songs sung to missing mothers, whole pods destroyed by imperial ships.
Even if that seemed impossibly far from the man I knew, the man who’d called me a treasure. Focus, Airón. Focus on the goal and the Silver City’s survival. No matter how much that was starting to hurt.
Blinking, I finally found the empress’s bedroom. One of the shutters had been left open, so it was easier to see how Empress Koque had left her quarters. Everything was neatly put away, everything had its place, but there was a bookshelf in the corner filled with well-worn tomes. A writing desk sat next to a window, the chair comfortable enough that it was clear the empress spent time there.
Despite the dust that covered the rest of the rooms, this room was clean. Was there some servant still in attendance? Loyal to her mistress even though that mistress was long dead?
There were no musical instruments I could see, nor any supplies for painting or drawing. So, the empress preferred the written word over any other sign of her good breeding.
Carefully, I slid open the writing desk, lifting the lid to reveal neat stacks of paper and pens with well-worn nibs. I skimmed a stack of paper on the side and realized the empress had been writing some sort of treatise on why her style of fashion was the best, and the fashion more common under the first emperor was inappropriate for today’s modern woman.
I began opening each drawer, checking the contents to find everything except the rocks I was looking for. Just when I was about to give up, I opened the last drawer, only to realize it was shorter than its companions. Frowning, I pulled it out all the way and found a secret compartment hidden behind it.
Using my fingernails, I pried it free and found inside the rocks I had been looking for. I took them out one by one, considering them. Why would the empress hide them? Her favor for them had been public knowledge.
I slipped them into a pouch at my waist, then reached in to see what else was in the empress’s secret hiding spot. There was a stack of folded letters next to the Krustavian stone, and I shoved it into my pouch. Whatever they contained, I likely needed more than dim moonlight to consider the full ramifications.
There was nothing else in the compartment, and I carefully closed it back up, sliding the drawer back into place and shutting the writing desk.
I looked around the room, but I hadn’t touched anything else, so I repositioned the chair and began to walk out into the hallway. I froze when I saw the candlelight.