Chapter 32
AIMILIA
Aimilia finally peeled herself away from the tree and made her way back into the estate, mind spinning.
How much worse was Nikias going to be now?
What had possessed her to be so foolish as to give him hope?
And why was she beginning to wonder if he meant it? If this was more than just a logical choice that had turned into a desperate attempt to salvage his wounded pride.
Of course, she would hope anyone entertaining the thought of marriage would have some attraction to their partner, but it wasn’t always the case, especially when the arrangement was practical like Nikias’ was aiming for.
Aimilia pressed her palm to her cheek, trying to use the cooler skin to push down the blush rising again.
She’d never expected he would find her desirable and not just practical.
She looked nothing like Faustina for one. Despite being Gavril’s closest confidant for years, her friend had never once looked at her and found her to be desirable.
No matter how hard she’d tried, she’d accepted she wasn’t. She’d tried to make up for it in skill and style and wit.
But now…
“Her beauty is more than enough for me.”
If Nikias had been faking it, Aimilia would hand it to him—he was a master at it.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach as she walked through the estate halls, biting back a grin.
He hadn’t been faking it.
She’d never had a kiss quite like that. For someone who was known for his adoration of his dead wife and for being uptight and reserved, he didn’t kiss like it.
But it was a sobering thought.
Aimilia paused in the hallway, looking over her shoulder like she expected to see Faustina’s ghost standing behind her with perfect golden hair and a demure but fierce strength that had Nikias wrapped around her finger from the moment they’d met.
Because Aimilia wasn’t her.
It didn’t matter how much Nikias might want Aimilia as his second wife. He would never love her the way he had his first. Aimilia wasn’t going to be anyone’s second choice.
But if Nikias had never met Faustina…
Would she?
She’d meant what she’d said. For the times he’d lost her respect, he’d more than earned it back. She could still feel the way he’d crushed her to him after she’d come out of the tunnels, and she could sink into him, knowing she was safe again.
She knew she certainly never wanted to see him in as much pain as she had after he endured Hypatia’s torture so Aimilia wouldn’t have to.
He was right. She’d shed a lot of tears for a man she claimed she didn’t care about. Maybe she cared more than she wanted to admit.
But it didn’t matter, did it?
It couldn’t change her decision. It didn’t make Nikias unlove Faustina with an obsessive devotion. It didn’t wipe away her treason at poisoning Nero. It didn’t make Nikias love her. He’d only wanted her.
It wasn’t enough.
Aimilia still wasn’t enough.
So Aimilia turned down her hallway, ready to go to bed and in the morning figure out how to untangle this mess when the faint sound of crying reached her ears. Then a voice murmuring over it.
Gavril’s.
It was coming from Gavril and Marcella’s room. Aimilia had lost track of how late it was, standing out in the courtyard.
Aimilia abandoned her path back to her room and hurried to their door, knocking softly and calling out, “Gavril? Marcella?”
There were a few whispered words, some garbled by sobs, and then the sound of footsteps.
Aimilia stepped back as the door opened and Gavril stood in front of her.
Marcella was lying in the bed, blankets piled around her in the darkness.
A little moonlight and a soft light rune provided a little light to see by, but not much. Both of them had red-rimmed eyes.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Aimilia asked.
Gavril gestured for her to come in then he looked out up and down the empty hallway before pulling the door shut behind her. Aimilia hurried over to the bed, moving to sit at the foot, putting a hand on Marcella’s leg. “Are you hurt? Did something happen? Was it Hypatia?”
Marcella sat up, opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her fingers curled into the blankets as she squeezed her eyes shut and a sob ripped out of her throat. Gavril quickly joined them, pulling Marcella into his arms.
Marcella clutched at his chiton and gasped. “I—I—”
“Shh.” Gavril ran his hand over her curls before looking over at Aimilia. “We… It’s a bit of a long story. But… I know you’ve noticed we’ve been absent lately.”
Aimilia nodded, breath catching in her throat. “You said you were helping Konstantin.”
There was a dark, uncomfortable twinge in her stomach, and she tried to push it down, but now that the guilt and wrongness of her actions crept up on her, she couldn’t squash it. While he was helping Konstantin, she’d been kissing his brother.
Gavril’s hands were too full to even notice Aimilia’s guilt chewing at her. “Konstantin was helping us.”
“With what?” Aimilia swallowed, an even worse feeling settling into her stomach. “What’s wrong?”
“I am,” Marcella choked out.
Gavril’s arms flexed as he held Marcella tighter. “That’s not true, don’t even think it.”
Aimilia was horribly lost and her terror was only growing by the second. She dug her hands into the sheets, knuckles turning white.
Gavril turned back to Aimilia. “Marcella is the only mage who survived so long on the table.”
Aimilia nodded, hoping to hurry him along.
“There were consequences to that. We…” Gavril’s voice thickened and he paused, blinking to clear the water in his eyes. “We asked Konstantin for help with a healer who would be able to look Marcella over and see what those were. Um, and the biggest that we found out today… We… we can’t conceive.”
Aimilia could only stare at them as the words hovered between them even in the silence.
That…
No. Aimilia turned his words over again in her head, but she had not misunderstood him.
Finally, she whispered, “Ever?”
Gavril nodded as Marcella choked on a bitter laugh. She spat out, her accent thickening as she struggled over each word, “He says we. He means me. I cannot conceive. I’m the one who’s broken. I came back wrong.”
Aimilia wasn’t sure what Marcella had meant to say with her last sentence, but this was not the time to correct her linguistic skills.
Especially as Gavril gritted his teeth before unclenching his jaw to say, “This is not your fault.”
Aimilia bit her tongue as her stomach turned. Her heartbeat slowed and each beat sent a wave of agony through her. Her skin which had been warm and buzzing only minutes before was cold and crawling. The only person to blame was the one she’d been kissing that same night.
Aimilia’s fingers brushed the ring on her finger.
There was nothing Aimilia could say to fix this. There was nothing she could say to make this better. All she could do was move down the bed, closer to her friends, and place her hand on Marcella’s back as she cried into her husband’s chest, gently rubbing her palm up and down.
Aimilia lost track of the time, but at one point, Marcella’s tremors stilled and her sobs turned into slow, steady breathing. Gavril reached up and gently wiped at the tear tracks on her cheek as she burrowed into him. Aimilia stilled her movements, but she didn’t lift her hand.
She looked over at Gavril, his expression a storm that, for the first time in her life, she didn’t want to weather. But she would anyway.
She whispered, “Gavril…”
He glanced down at Marcella, rubbing his thumb over her arm, expression softening as he did so. “She’s my biggest concern right now.”
“I know. But being strong for her doesn’t mean you’re not grieving too.”
He sighed and the bags under his eyes sank in deeper.
“I don’t know what to say. I… I’m devastated.
I’ve been hoping ever since the treaty Marcella and I would any day be starting our family.
All I’ve wanted for so long was to start a new family, but now…
Now that’s no longer an option. I’ll be saddled with my current family forever.
They always win.” Gavril squeezed his eyes shut, his voice rough and ragged.
“How do they always win? They’ve ensured I’ll never be free.
Even if I never see their faces again, they get the last word. ”
“Nikias—” Aimilia’s voice cracked.
“Don’t.” Gavril took a deep breath when Aimilia winced. Marcella stirred but didn’t wake. He lowered his voice. “Don’t try to defend him.”
“I’m not.”
“Good. If I see him—” Gavril’s jaw flexed. “This is his fault.”
“It is.”
Gavril nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer.
He leaned back against the headboard, pulling Marcella up closer.
“I’m sure this goes without saying, but since I know Nikias has been hovering around you as of late, he’s not to know about this.
Just…” Gavril shook his head. “Stay away from him. Stay as far away from him as you can.”
“I will.”
Nikias might have paid for what he’d had done to Marcella, but Marcella was going to live with the consequences for the rest of her life, which begged the question.
Could he really be forgiven for it? Or should he suffer for the rest of his life because Marcella would be too?
Aimilia didn’t know.
But she was sick with what she’d done.
Could she forgive herself for letting Nikias anywhere near her?