Chapter 9 – The House on Top of the Hill
At Starfall in Segoile, there were many palaces.
Two were designated for an Empress.
Gentian Palace was the smaller of the two, a shining marble construct covered in carved, painted flowers.
It had been built by Emperor Viotin Agnephus III, who had dearly loved his Empress, and surrounded her with dreaming blue gentians and fountains made of lapis and crystal.
It was an annex to the Emperor’s own residence, and no one but the Emperor and his lady were permitted inside its central chamber.
But stories told of the great crystal dome open to the stars, and the enormous round bed where white moonflowers climbed the walls to perfume the air.
The Palace of the Distant Star was larger and further away, a grand complex with its own gardens, stables, and administrative buildings.
It was situated on a hilltop on the western side of Starfall, with a high crystal tower that glowed even by starlight.
Built by Emperor Deverin Agnephus, who had not loved his Empress, it was as far as it was possible to be from the Emperor’s residence while still being within the walls of the sacred city .
Empress Esmene had not had everything her way.
The wedding ceremony had been held, but it was a week before she came to Starfall, in an open carriage that proclaimed the arrival of the new mistress of the Empire and with no acknowledgement whatsoever from Bastin.
The week’s delay had been due to House Melun’s attempt to have her installed in Gentian Palace, but Bastin would sooner have burned it to the ground.
This was not something they could force him to do.
If she wanted to live in Starfall, it would be in the Palace of the Distant Star, or not at all.
It was said that the sight of that palace’s crystal tower, a tiny gleam as if from one of the fainter stars, had soothed Deverin Agnephus, as if his Empress had been located in some faraway galaxy.
It was a mild comfort to Bastin Agnephus to know that he was not the first Emperor to loathe his wife, but the fact that that Melun woman resided within Starfall at all was like knowing there was a snake in his chamber. Somewhere.
“Nothing to be done about it now, Divinity,” Laud Ereguil counseled sensibly. “Might be best to come to terms with her.”
“Like you have with your betrothed?” Bastin inquired waspishly.
Everyone was talking about how Laud Ereguil, young, wealthy, and the highest-ranking unwed noble in the Empire, had been ensnared by one of Segoile’s most infamous Roses.
It was perilously easy for an unwary man to be maneuvered into compromising a maiden, even if he was a duke.
The only recourse for an honorable man was to propose.
Laud’s face darkened.
“I’ll hear her out, at least,” he growled, though he didn’t look pleased with the idea. “But yours is not the first political marriage in history, Radiance. As my sister has been reminding me, one party is almost always reluctant in these situations.”
“I’m surprised the lady caught you,” Bastin remarked, giving his friend an opening to talk about his troubles, if he wanted to. Bastin was deeply sympathetic to anyone who was forced to marry.
“They’re always wanting mercenaries in Rendeva,” Laud replied, and won a wan smile.
It was true, though, that his was not the first political marriage in history, and he was certainly not the first Emperor who had been forced into one.
Maybe it would have been possible to make peace with it, in time.
If Esmene had come to him herself, he might have found a way to deal with her.
If he could have separated her from House Melun and its demands, it might have been more bearable.
Or even if they had just left him in peace to get used to the idea, perhaps…
“I regret that the Temple has also expressed concern,” said Duke Dardot Melun, head of House Melun and father of Esmene.
He had been pressing for an audience with the Emperor for over a month, and Bastin had only granted it when Melun threatened to call in the House of Agnephus’s considerable debts.
“If the Temple is concerned, they can come say so themselves,” Bastin replied, seated at his desk and pretending to focus on one of the many papers there.
“I would be reluctant to involve them in any formal way, especially in a matter that involves my own divine son-in-law…” Melun trailed off, letting the implication linger.
For all the divine blood in Bastin’s veins, both of them knew who held the power here.
Dardot Melun had a great many strings he could pull: financial, religious, political, and—if Bastin was truly willing to make it a contest—perhaps he would even use the Court of War, which had long been in Melun hands.
The Empire’s finances were in ruins after the failed campaigns in the Andelin, the position of the Temple was very clear on the necessity of consummating a marriage, and the Court of Nobility had already made its ruling on the validity of Bastin’s betrothal.
But it wasn’t enough for House Melun to place their daughter on the throne. No, no. They wanted the succession, without delay. Bastin set down his quill and met his father-in-law’s eyes, cold and flat.
“Does your daughter know you’re here?”
This was probably the last chance for peace.
“A maiden, even an Empress, cannot press such a delicate matter for herself,” said Melun, with a smile that confirmed that this was in fact at her request, and it felt as if something in Bastin’s chest solidified into ice.
“You may leave.” He was so angry, he could barely speak the words.
And not just with his bitch of a wife or her bastard father.
Bastin hated his own father with such venom, he ordered all the busts and portraits of the man removed from Starfall that same day.
His father was responsible for this. He had bankrupted the House of Agnephus with futile wars, then sold his son to pay for it .
The next day, he went to the Palace of the Distant Star.
The Empress was prepared to receive him.
Tea and a light meal were ready in her solar, already so perfectly appointed, it looked as if she had resided there for years.
She was an accomplished socialite and scarcely needed his participation to hold a conversation.
Her long, slender fingers were ever busy, serving him food, pouring his tea, arranging the table as she told him how well she was settling into her new home.
“I have assigned my Mistress of Robes, as well as my ladies of the Wardrobe, the Bath, and the Salon,” she said, sipping her tea. She took it strong, with no sugar. “Duke Pomeret was good enough to begin introducing me to your ministers.”
“That was kind of him.” And daring of her, to confess her alliances before him. So House Pomeret had declared for Melun.
“I am anxious to assume my duties, Divinity,” she replied. “The delegation from Daitia should be greeted with all courtesy. I will do my utmost as Empress to ensure the negotiations proceed well.”
The threat was concealed in sweet words and spoken in an exquisitely trained voice, every syllable melodious and perfectly enunciated. She was pushing him. Demanding that he acknowledge her as his wife and Empress in every way.
Fine.
“Come,” he said flatly, setting his untouched tea aside and rising from his chair. “Let’s get this over with.”
She was so very eager to be acknowledged.
Her ladies were still busy putting the finishing touches on her bedchamber, but Bastin barely noticed as they curtsied and hastily departed.
Tugging at the buttons and laces of his doublet, he let it fall on the floor, then sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.
He was uninterested in the details of both this bedchamber and his bride.
After today, he never intended to visit either again.
Esmene followed him. She was wearing a light silk gown that laced up the sides rather than the back, easily removed by herself or a man unaccustomed to fripperies.
For the first time, she actually looked a little uncertain as she moved toward the bed.
Her hands lifted to her hair, tugging out pins and ribbons to let the pale blonde mass fall in streamers around her face .
Bastin measured her from the corner of his eye.
She might have been three years older, but she was a maiden still, and would rarely have seen a man without his shirt, let alone anything more.
And he had hardly saved himself for marriage.
His first sexual experience had been with a pretty chambermaid when he was seventeen, and the girl had been more than happy to educate the handsome young Emperor. He was not shy about sex.
Rising, he shoved his breeches off and stepped out of them. He took a certain pleasure in watching Esmene flinch and look quickly away at the sight of his unexcited penis.
“Take off your clothes,” he said flatly, stretching out on the bed.
He had no intention of making this easy for her.
He would not pretend affection. She was forcing him to do this against his will and he would never forgive her for it.
Bastin stared into the middle distance as she slipped out of her gown and then slid onto the bed beside him.
She was very long and slender, tall for a woman, only three or four inches shorter than himself.
He could smell something cool and flowery on her skin, like tuberoses.
Kneeling beside him on the bed, she waited, two spots of hot color burning in her cheeks. Bastin waited just long enough for the silence to be uncomfortable before he looked at her contemptuously.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked. “You’re the one that wanted this so badly. Go ahead.”