Five
About two weeks after the oracles moved into the palace, the Assembly decided it was their turn to welcome the women vying for a position as the future empress. Yslie couldn’t decide if the Assembly’s event was better or worse than the feast in the palace. She wasn’t on display this time, but neither could she sit in silence.
The entire Assembly House had been set up for the evening with musicians, dancers, and other entertainments spread throughout, along with food and drinks that could be nibbled on while people mingled. Technically, Yslie could find a corner in which to hide, but not if she wanted to make a good impression. This wasn’t like at the palace, where she didn’t care that Triese basked in her popularity. Unlike the courtiers, the Assembly members actually had power. Their opinions mattered.
And they were forming opinions at a rapid rate that evening. Every time Yslie turned, another Assembly member introduced themself then immediately jumped into hypothetical questions about what she’d do as empress. It told her plenty about the topics of interest among the politicians, but she wasn’t sure what her answer told them. For her answer was always the same.
“I wouldn’t have the authority to make any decisions in such a case,” Yslie told Indalah, who wanted to know how she’d tax magical artifacts.
Like all those who had come before her, Indalah was momentarily stunned by Yslie’s response. Despite the fact that the Assembly was doing everything it could to strip away imperial power, none of the members expected Yslie to point out that she wouldn’t have authority to change the laws even if she became empress. While Indalah scrambled for a response, another member of their small group asked his own question.
“Then you will ignore politics if you become empress?” Brevin was not an Assembly member himself, but an incubus who worked from the sidelines, much as Pianti and Qilar did. Surprisingly, several people had already told Yslie about him, warning her not to underestimate him and that his allegiance was to whomever paid for it.
She considered his question. Her focus had always been more on stopping Triese from gaining influence as empress rather than what her role would be if she married the prince. But she had thought plenty about what horrors Triese could encourage, and that made her answer simple. She’d be the opposite. “No. If I become empress, I won’t hide in the palace and ignore the needs of the people. I wouldn’t have the authority to enact laws, but I could use my position and influence to help. I’d much rather work with the Assembly than interact with the court.”
Yslie wanted the Assembly to succeed. She knew progress would be slow now that the initial flurry of activity following the revolution had passed. The biggest changes had been made, everyone willing to compromise to get power out of the Emperor’s hands. Now, the various factions would push against each other more. If she became empress and ignored politics, it would be no better than stepping aside now and ceding the title to Triese.
Indalah’s eyes narrowed. “And which faction would you work with?”
“None. And all.” Yslie tilted her chin up the tiniest bit. “My focus will be the good of Pynth, not a single faction.”
They spoke for a few more minutes. Indalah and her allies wanted to learn Yslie’s stance on several issues, but for most, her honest answer was that she needed to learn more before she would make any decisions. Finally, they went on their way, leaving only Brevin behind.
He smiled at her, the glint in his eyes a little wicked. Yslie felt the tiniest pull of attraction, but though she couldn’t reason the feeling away, she knew it to be nothing more than a response to an incubus’s lure. She wasn’t usually drawn to wickedness. He wasn’t trying to seduce her, the lure too weak to be a true attempt to influence her. It was simply the natural state for an incubus. An aura of attraction she hadn’t felt until just now.
She might not have noticed the subtle lure earlier because her conversation was enough of a distraction, but Yslie didn’t believe that. If she hadn’t felt it, it was because Brevin had transformed his lure into something else. Lust might be the default, but an incubus could engender any emotion with a little more effort.
“You lowered my inhibitions,” Yslie accused. She hadn’t spoken so bluntly with anyone else who had asked for her opinions. She was well practiced in putting others at ease, becoming little more than a mirror that reflected back what they wanted to see and hear. It wasn’t a talent that allowed her to make a lasting impression, but—until Triese intervened—people usually remembered Yslie positively, if vaguely.
Brevin’s eyes widened. “You can sense lures?”
“I am aware of what my emotions should be in a given situation. I didn’t feel any of the anxiety speaking to Indalah that I did in all my previous conversations with Assembly members.”
“That was all I did,” he said. “I felt your nerves when we were introduced, so I gave you a little contentment and confidence. Nothing more.”
Yslie frowned. He had taken her hands in his when they were introduced, a common habit among incubi, for whom touch was natural—necessary. But though he would have been able to feed off her emotions with that contact, he shouldn’t have known what emotions they were. Those who had warned her were right; she needed to be careful not to underestimate Brevin.
She studied him. He wasn’t a mirror like her, but a chameleon who showed whatever colors felt safest. Right now, his green eyes were soft, his smile kind. Yslie didn’t believe the altruistic act. “Are you trying to convince me it was a selfless application of your lure?”
The spark came back into his eyes, and his lure strengthened just enough for her to notice. “Can we at least agree that it wasn’t a self-centered application? I should hate if you were to think ill of me.”
“Increasing the strength of your lure won’t help with that.”
He leaned close. “What if I were to flirt with you without the help of my lure?”
Yslie shook her head, but didn’t step away. “I wouldn’t flirt back.”
“I can be very hard to resist.”
“I’m in the city in order to try to marry Pe—Prince Peroen.”
“So are the other oracles, yet two of them didn’t hesitate to flirt with me.”
“Triese doesn’t know how to talk to a man without flirting, and I wager Odela flirted just enough that no one could ever claim she crossed over the line of simple friendliness.”
His eyes narrowed. “How did you know which two oracles I meant?”
Yslie rolled her eyes. “You are not a book. Therefore, it is safe to say Sophenie has no interest in you.”
“Nor am I the prince, which means you have no interest in me.”
“Why do you sound surprised? As I just pointed out, he is why I am in Kalitalo.”
“Yet Odela was still interested in how she could use me, and Triese was interested in a bit of fun. But you aren’t focused on marrying the prince . You care about Peroen . And given the way his expression darkened the instant he saw me standing close to you, he cares about you in return. What a shame.”
Yslie caught herself before she whipped around to search for Peroen, but it was a near thing. She didn’t trust this incubus. She considered denying his conclusion, but she knew he’d never believe her. Instead, she squared her shoulders. “Why is it a shame?”
“Because I suspect we could have fun together if you weren’t already falling for the prince.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I hardly think my feelings would be an obstacle for you, given your lure.”
Brevin’s expression grew unexpectedly serious. “I don’t go around turning heads that aren’t already inclined toward me. Especially not in a case such as this. My friends might tease me about it, but I must admit I am a bit of a romantic. I rather like the idea that the prince and his oracle bride find happiness together. I won’t ruin that.”
“For how long? The other oracles and I are here tonight so the Assembly members can take our measure. The factions will all be picking favorites. Given what I’ve heard about you, I’d bet at least one of them will approach you soon and pay you to help their chosen candidate win over the prince. Are your romantic tendencies stronger than your greed?”
He grinned. “You have a bite when you are riled. I’d try to claim your lack of faith wounds me, but mostly I am impressed.” He reached out and took her hands in his. “The prince is a lucky man. And because I am more romantic than mercenary, I will give you this warning for free. The factions won’t worry about hiring me to sway the prince’s opinion. They have a different plan in place. His choice won’t matter if they claim the authority to make the final decision for themselves.”
???
“You need to put greater effort into mingling, especially with the human Assembly members.”
Qilar’s voice made Peroen jump. It should have been impossible for such a large man to sneak up on him, but he had. Peroen matched his uncle’s volume, though few people lingered close enough to hear them, even if they spoke normally. “Why bother? I was only invited because it would have seemed silly to meet the oracles while excluding the man one of them would marry. No one cares if they meet me.”
“A situation you need to change. You need to become a person in their minds, not just an embodiment of the loathed imperial family.”
“I did try.” Peroen hadn’t retreated to a corner to hide until at least an hour had passed. “But it is harder to ignore the hatred here. With the courtiers it barely touches me because I don’t care about their opinions. But knowing everyone here sees me as a copy of my father is painful.”
“Unfortunately, you don’t have the luxury of taking your time to convince them you are not like Envaho. Members are discussing altering the terms of your marriage by revoking your right to choose your bride.”
It took a moment for the full scope of Qilar’s words to register. “They want to pick for me,” he said numbly.
“Yes. Odela has a suspiciously large portion of the humans favoring her already. Pianti is trying to figure out how she has managed that, but in the meantime, it is critical that you remind the Assembly members that your entire life will be impacted by this decision.”
“You keep mentioning the humans. What is going on with the magical races?”
“They are still deciding which oracle they’d like to see on the throne, and don’t seem as united. But you don’t need to worry about them as much, because unless I miss my guess, they won’t vote in favor of taking the choice of bride away from you.”
“Why not?” Peroen wasn’t about to believe they didn’t want that power.
“Because Yslie is doing an excellent job of pointing out that all the protections put in place to ensure that the oracle who marries you does so of her own free will mean nothing if you have no choice. She is playing on their guilt over the Imperial-Oracle Treaty while she is at it. Coming from her, the argument is very effective.”
Peroen couldn’t stop himself from glancing in the direction he had last seen Yslie. He’d had to look away after he noticed the man standing with her, their closeness stirring up possessive feelings he had no right to act on. She had moved since then, wasn’t in this room anymore. Neither was the man who had been beside her. Peroen attempted not to think about them together and focused on what Qilar had told him. Yslie was fighting for him.
He tried not to read too much into her actions. As an oracle who might have one day been forced to serve the imperial family against her will, she’d feel the injustice of taking Peroen’s choice away. It had nothing to do with him, simply with right and wrong. But he couldn’t squash every kernel of hope that it meant more.
Because if he had to choose right this instant, Yslie would be his choice. Honestly, he didn’t think that would ever change. He had tried to keep an open mind. He knew his choice in wife impacted more than his personal life. Even with the Assembly taking control of the practical power behind the throne, being a part of the imperial family still granted influence and opportunity.
Peroen would much rather see Yslie wield that symbolic power than Triese. Odela also made him uneasy, though without any obvious signs he could point to if he needed to justify his reaction. Sophenie had no interest in the court or politics—she wouldn’t harm Pynth, he didn’t think, but neither would she look up from her books long enough to do any good, either.
Yslie would see herself in the same light as he classified Sophenie, but Peroen knew better. Yslie never called attention to herself, but that didn’t mean she didn’t act. She was quiet, but steadfast. If she could step in and convince the magical races not to take the choice away from Peroen, then he could handle interacting with the humans to further the same goal.
Especially when that goal allowed him to choose Yslie.