Twelve
Peroen had to return to his studio for his portrait session with Odela, and so Yslie found herself joining Sophenie in her rooms.
Yslie gestured at the book Sophenie drew from her pocket. “What did you take?”
“An account of the Shapeshifter Uprising of 347. Not the book I would have picked if I hadn’t had to hide it, but it’s still interesting.”
Yslie removed the journal from her pocket, grinning at the way Odela’s eyes widened. “I found a journal written by Emperor Daitano the First.”
“You stole a book from the archives?”
“You didn’t see that possibility?”
“I did, but I thought it unlikely to happen.”
Yslie opened the book, noticing once again how the pages stuck. “The first two pages are joined together. Any idea how to pry them apart safely?”
“Let me see.”
Yslie handed over the book, and Sophenie studied the pages. She tested the edges with her fingernail. She frowned. “It’s too thick. I’m not sure we can separate them without damage. I think they were glued together, and there is something in between.”
Yslie took the book back and realized Sophenie was right. “I’m going to force them apart.”
Still trying to be gentle, Yslie worked her nail between the edges of the pages and wiggled. She went up and down, causing ancient paper to crack and crumble. It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done. Within minutes, she pried a folded sheet of paper out from between the two pages. She unfolded it with even more care.
Seeing how Sophenie practically vibrated with excitement, she set it on the table between them so they could both read.
The oracles assure me that, one day, this note will be found and the words in my journal will be heard. Not soon enough, in my opinion. Too much damage will already be done based on the visions they see. Yet, I respect what my advisors tell me—if this note was found any earlier, my words would be burned without having a chance to make a difference. So, if you are reading this, then know that my story is not only for you, but for the empire. Let the lessons I learned the hard way save Pynth once more. This time without further bloodshed.
Emperor Daitano Tjawer
Yslie didn’t know what to say for long moments after she finished reading the note. Finally, she picked up the journal and held it out toward Sophenie. “Maybe you should read this. You are the one with experience reading histories and learning from them.”
The other oracle shook her head.
“You don’t want to?”
“I do, but some futures can’t be avoided. Daitano said his advisors saw someone finding this note. They had to look hundreds of years into the future, Yslie. You know what that means. I don’t think it is chance that you found his journal. You were the one meant to.” Sophenie pushed the book back toward Yslie. “Though I would be honored to get a chance to read it once you are done.”
“Of course,” Yslie said absently. She stared at the book. Had an oracle really seen it in her hands hundreds of years ago? Oracles whose powers could look so far into the future were rare. Those who saw anything more than a jumble of millions upon millions of possible futures, even rarer. When an oracle could discern a path that far out, it was no longer a possibility, but a prophecy.
Yslie swallowed, opened the book, and read.
???
Peroen had the sense that he had reached one of those moments that defined the direction his life would take. After a frustrating portrait session with Odela—she knew he was working against her and wasn’t about to betray any of her plans—he found Sophenie and Yslie both waiting for him.
“We have to go talk to Pianti and Qilar,” Yslie insisted. She brandished a small book at him, telling him she had found it in the archives and it had the answer they needed. Then she refused to say anything else. She wanted to get it out all at once.
That Sophenie insisted on joining them when they went to Pianti and Qilar’s home only drove home how important the journal—whatever it was—must be.
Now Yslie stood in front of all of them, the journal clutched against her chest, a bit of ribbon hanging over the cover from where it marked a particular page. In her other hand, she held a yellowed sheet of paper. She handed the paper to Peroen. “I found Emperor Daitano the First’s journal, and it has everything we need to oust Envaho from the throne.”
Peroen read the page, then passed it to Pianti and Qilar.
Yslie quivered as she waited for everyone to finish.
“This note is interesting,” Pianti conceded, “but it won’t force Envaho from the throne. What does the journal say?”
Licking her lips, Yslie opened the book to the page marked by the ribbon. It was near the very end of the journal. “This part was written after the wars ended and Daitano became emperor. He’s talking about Jaesa, the first Emperor’s Oracle.”
She began to read:
If it weren’t for her, I’d be just another warlord who fought until the end of his days, prolonging suffering, not protecting anyone. She should be empress, and I her general. Politics, however, did not allow for that outcome. Not that I wouldn’t have fought to give her the power she deserves if that was what she wanted, but being my advisor suits her better. Still, my line owes the oracles, and her in particular, for our new position of power. I am reassured to know that my heirs will always have an oracle at their side. Should that oracle ever decry their monarch, that is the sign that the emperor is nothing more than a usurper, for it takes more than blood to be my heir.
“He knew.” Peroen met Yslie’s eyes. “Father knew what you’d find. That’s why he didn’t want an oracle in the archives.”
“If he’d known, he’d have burned the book, just like the note suggests,” Pianti argued.
“He was probably acting on a vague prophecy,” Sophenie said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if an Emperor’s Oracle generations ago had warned that allowing an oracle into the archives could spell the end of the empire. He might have known it was dangerous to let us in, but not why.”
“What Envaho knows doesn’t matter.” Qilar stared at the book as if he were afraid it would disappear. “If we take the note and journal to the Assembly, they don’t need to find a way to claim power over the succession. The first emperor, the start of the dynasty, condemned Envaho before he was even born.”
Pianti drummed her fingers against the table. “Peroen needs to marry Yslie first. Then he can present what she found to the Assembly.”
He blinked. “What?”
“There’s a chance the Assembly will try to abolish the monarchy completely, but that could lead to instability. More likely, they will force Envaho’s abdication. Which means you need to be married to an oracle of her own free will—not only because it was part of the agreement to establish the Assembly, but because it shows that you do have the oracles’ support. Auraelie forsook Envaho, calling into question his right to rule, but Yslie marrying you will establish your own suitability to take the throne.”
It made sense. It was a smart plan.
Peroen wanted to marry Yslie.
Yet Pianti’s practical decree filled him with dread. He stood up. Now he was the one who couldn’t sit still. Yslie, on the other hand, had frozen. The journal dangled loosely from her fingers. Peroen caught it before it could fall and placed it on the table in front of Qilar. “Why don’t you three look at the rest of the journal while Yslie and I talk.”
“Peroen—”
He cut Pianti off. “We need to talk alone. Give us a little time. Please.”
“Supper isn’t for almost two hours.” Qilar nodded at Peroen. “We’ll see you then.”
???
Yslie led Peroen upstairs. She had spent her first nights in Kalitalo at Pianti’s house, and the bedroom she had used felt more private than any of the rooms downstairs. And this conversation needed privacy. She didn’t know what was going through Peroen’s mind, but her own was awash with uncertainty.
What if they married and the Assembly didn’t approve? What if... no. Yslie refused to lose herself in hypothetical problems.
“I want to marry you,” Peroen blurted the instant they closed the bedroom door behind themselves. “I hope you don’t doubt that. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
His nerves settled hers. She pulled him over to the large blanket covered bed, and they sank down onto the cushion. “I understand.” She did. This wasn’t about what they wanted—that was the terrifying part.
“I would have married you weeks ago,” Peroen continued.
She rolled her eyes. “We only met weeks ago.”
“And I knew I wanted to marry you,” he insisted. “But you are still getting used to the city. Me. Life among the court and playing politics with the Assembly. I don’t want to rush you into anything.”
“I love the city. I adore you. And we are adapting to the rest together. Everything is moving fast, I agree, but I don’t feel rushed, Peroen. I’m more worried that you feel trapped.”
His brow furrowed. “Trapped by what?”
She laughed mirthlessly. “What about your life isn’t a cage? You were told who you’d marry, even if you ostensibly were allowed a choice among a few candidates. Now Pianti is telling you not only to oust your father but to take the throne decades before you might have expected to. You are suddenly required to socialize with Assembly members and pledge yourself to a woman you met less than a month ago.”
“Maybe my life has been a cage, but you already freed me, Yslie. It doesn’t matter that I only had four oracles to pick from, since you were one of them. Dethroning my father is practically a dream come true, and I want to learn how to work with the Assembly and finally do something that matters with my life.”
“Peroen?” Yslie pressed her lips together. She wouldn’t start grinning like a fool. Not yet. “Is the only reason you hesitated when Pianti said we should get married immediately because you were afraid I’d feel forced to agree?”
He nodded.
“How about this? Right now, we aren’t talking about the empire or politics or what anyone else wants or expects. Right now, it is just you and me.”
“All right.” He stretched the words out, tilting his head to the side as he puzzled over her goal.
“I love you. I want to wake up next to you every day and spend the rest of my life with you.” She put a finger over his lips, stopping him from responding. She wasn’t done yet. “Will you marry me, Peroen?”
The question clearly took him by surprise. He didn’t seem to be able to form words. Then he gave up trying to speak and answered in the clearest way he could. His mouth met her hers, and it was more than a kiss. It was an act as necessary as breathing. She fell back against the bed, and he went with her.
It took considerable time before Peroen spoke. First, he helped her remove all her clothes—and his—and kissed every inch of her. Then, he lined up their bodies and looked into her eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you, Yslie. You are the only future I’ll accept.”
She surged up, he thrust, and they lost themselves in the promise of the future they both wanted. She cried out his name as she came, muffling the sound against his shoulder. She held onto him, not wanting the moment ever to end. He didn’t stop, and it was too much, not enough, everything.
“My Yslie,” he growled against the curve of her neck. “Always mine.”
He bit her, right at the delicate curve where neck and shoulder met and she shattered once more. This time, the word that tore from her throat was “yours.”
Peroen’s release filled her, the sensation intensifying her own.
“Just to be clear,” Peroen grunted, long minutes later, “I’m yours, too.”
Her hand reached up, her fingers brushing over the indent his teeth had made in her skin. “I know. I’ll claim you next time.”
His eyes went dark as he watched her touch the mark. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “It felt wonderful. Though, I’m going to blush myself to death when we go back down for supper. I don’t think my tunic will cover this.”
“I’ll aim for somewhere less noticeable next time.” His gaze drifted lower, settling on her breasts.
Yslie shivered, as if he were already dragging his teeth against her flesh. She swallowed. “We should probably get up. Go tell Pianti and the others that we’re getting married.” Her brows drew together. “You are fine getting married faster than expected, right?”
“Yslie, I will marry you at any moment you choose.” His lips quirked up. “Though I advise you not to pick this very moment, as we still have some time before supper, and I don’t feel the need to rush downstairs to talk to anyone else yet.”
He traced a finger over the curve of her hip and kissed the spot between her breasts.
Unsurprisingly, they ended up being late for supper, but Yslie was too happy to die of embarrassment.