Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Scarlett
The Ravalian Court was progressive in some ways and utterly stifling in others.
Gazing out over the gardens, I noted the conspicuous absence of noblemen. Instead, court ladies strolled the paths in their gauzy finery, accompanied by liveried servants. Despite my mother’s insistence that the Orders be open to men and women alike, ladies of nobility were still forced into traditional roles – while their husbands were free to exercise in the gymnasia, conduct deals in the marketplace, and meet for endless discussions on imperial matters.
No doubt my brothers were amongst them now, honing their bodies and making useful political connections. While I —
I was stuck here .
‘Are you paying attention, Your Highness?’
I glanced at the speaker, a slender older woman with a razor-sharp smile. ‘Of course.’
‘Then perhaps you can demonstrate for us.’
Hostility seeped from the other ladies as they watched me walk to the front of the room, taking in the outfit I wore – a fitted blouse and split skirt, showcasing my leather pants and knee-high boots. It was my own design, and far more practical than the elaborate Aqualian fashions preferred by the court.
‘Straighter, straighter,’ Lady Verne instructed as I sank down, swatting the back of my neck with her fan. ‘A proper curtsy should be maintained until a person of greater rank gives you leave to stand.’
A few titters came from Odessa and her group of friends, who were watching me disdainfully from behind their fans. Curtsying was straightforward, something they could do perfectly. But they were minor nobles.
I was royal. My body wasn’t made for subservience.
I held the pose until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
‘This is ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I’m the princess; people bow and curtsy to me . This is a waste of my time.’
‘It most certainly is not!’ Lady Verne sounded personally affronted. ‘Everything that you do reflects on this great empire, and His Imperial Majesty personally tasked me with readying you for your upcoming marriage.’
Which wouldn’t happen, not if I had anything to do with it. But as tempted as I was to retort, Lady Verne’s face was already an alarming shade of red.
‘I’ll practise more often,’ I lied.
‘Very well,’ she said, decidedly unconvinced. ‘Perhaps observing Lady Tiran will help.’
Odessa Tiran was the reason for the dislike emanating from the other girls; her mother was one of Empress Ivalene’s ladies and considered my presence at court an insult to her mistress. The legitimisation of a bastard child wasn’t unheard of, but it was unusual when the father already had true-born sons. I found it amusing that she disliked me so much, when my mother had gone to great pains to conceal her Kalurian heritage – and mine – from the court. I could only imagine what Ivalene and her ladies would make of that. They seemed to consider Kalure’s matriarchal culture a perversion.
While Lady Verne was watching, Odessa’s expression was pleasant as she curtsied flawlessly. But the moment the instructor looked elsewhere, Odessa shot me a venomous glare.
‘That’s enough for today,’ Lady Verne said at last, clapping her hands. ‘Until next week, ladies.’
We filed out, Odessa and her circle of friends leading the way. None of them so much as glanced at me, but they did stare at the governor, who was already striding towards the ladies’ parlour.
‘Your Highness,’ he said, with a slight dip of his head. ‘I was told you might be here.’
‘Governor,’ I replied. ‘I’m afraid I can’t stay. I have sparring practice after this.’
‘I know. I came to join you.’
‘To join me?’ I repeated, arching a brow. ‘I hadn’t expected you to enjoy sword fighting.’
‘Because you think me unskilled?’
‘Because I remember your distaste of the arena,’ I corrected diplomatically, though that wasn’t true.
‘I dislike unnecessary death,’ the governor said as we emerged outside, protected from the sun by an elegant colonnade, ‘but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to fight. Perhaps we can cross swords together some time.’
‘Perhaps we can,’ I agreed with a faint smile.
We passed a group of ladies escaping the heat of the afternoon by an ornamental pond. One was reading to the others while a liveried servant fanned her; Governor Halvor smiled in acknowledgement, and she shut the book with a snap, her attention shifting to us. Her friend murmured something, the soft sound of their laughter following us from the courtyard.
‘You shouldn’t acknowledge them,’ I said. ‘It lowers you in their eyes.’
The governor glanced at me in surprise. ‘I was merely being courteous.’
No – he was being kind. He was kind, which made this so much harder.
‘They mistake your kindness for weakness,’ I told him. ‘It’s better to keep your distance.’
Governor Halvor considered me thoughtfully. I didn’t like the expression on his face – the hint of understanding. As if he believed that comment applied to me, and I had simply learnt to keep my softer side hidden.
Sunlight reflected off the columned facades of the Order residences, the white marble decorated with carvings of their respective symbols. They were grouped closely together, but the largest structure sprawled in front of the other two: the rectangular residence of the Order of Warriors, its open training courtyard adjacent to the palace. A few faces watched from the palace windows high above, but I doubted it was because the ladies had much interest in sparring or weapons. Their gazes were fixed on the Warriors – many of whom had discarded the tops of their uniforms under the heat of the midday sun.
The captain of the royal guard looked up at my arrival. ‘Your Highness,’ he said as I crossed the courtyard. ‘You’re late.’
‘Lady Verne kept me longer than expected. And then I came across the governor.’
His impatience lessened as he took in Governor Halvor, assessing his solid build and the sword strapped to his hip. When they moved on to an in-depth discussion of weapons, I unsheathed my own blade.
The captain didn’t expect much from me, so he usually left me alone to complete various drills. I never minded. Having time to myself was a welcome reprieve.
Ducking and weaving, I practised a few slashes and parries. The physical exertion helped clear my head; there was something refreshing about the simplicity of sword fighting, the ease and familiarity of the motions.
Then I turned – and nearly overbalanced.
Severin was observing me from the shade of a nearby arch, drinking from a waterskin. His bare chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat; he’d clearly been working out before I arrived, and I was disappointed to have missed seeing him in action. But I forced the thought aside.
‘You’ve been avoiding me.’
‘I thought it best,’ Severin said, lowering the waterskin.
My hand tightened around the leather hilt of my sword. ‘How easily your feelings change. What happened to your grand proclamations on my birthday?’
‘That was before—’ Severin broke off, shaking his head. ‘You know it can’t be the same. You’re to be married .’
‘I’m not married yet.’
‘I’m not sure that makes any difference.’
‘Maybe it does.’ I cast a wary glance around me, but no one was looking in our direction. ‘Meet me tonight. On the southern balcony, the one where—’
The governor strode towards us, his boots kicking up plumes of sand. He took in Severin curiously, but didn’t acknowledge the Artisan. ‘Shall we?’ he asked.
I wordlessly threaded my arm through his. It was difficult not to look back at Severin, but nothing good would come of it if I did. I had already paid him too much attention, and I couldn’t afford for the governor to become suspicious.
‘I already have a sword,’ I said as we approached a rack of weapons mounted on a wooden stand.
‘I can see that,’ the governor responded mildly, selecting two bows. ‘The captain told me of your love of archery; I thought you might prefer to do that instead. Or was he wrong?’
I eyed the bows, itching to hold one. ‘He wasn’t wrong,’ I admitted.
Growing up, I had been on many royal hunts. Determined not to be outdone by my brothers, I’d mastered the skill of archery.
The technique was so familiar to me now that it was instinctual. I shifted to face a target at the far end of the courtyard, nocking and releasing four arrows in rapid succession.
‘Expertly done, Princess.’ Governor Halvor fired his own arrows confidently, though they hit the target slightly off-centre.
‘I could say the same of you,’ I replied, feeling inclined to be generous.
The governor studied the ring of arrows within the bullseye. ‘It seems you’ve won.’
‘It seems I have,’ I said, but I felt no delight at my victory.
Looking across the courtyard, I searched for Severin amongst the Warriors. I’d hoped he might be watching, but his back was turned decisively away from me, his shoulders stiff.
‘Shall we retire for afternoon tea?’ I asked.
‘That sounds delightful,’ the governor said, and his tone was so sincere that I believed he meant it.
It really was a pity he had to die.
Alone in Governor Halvor’s parlour, I reached for the vial concealed in my skirt and emptied it into his tea.
I twisted my trembling hands in my lap, waiting for the governor to reappear. It wasn’t his fault the emperor had decided to make him my husband. He had done nothing except be kind to me, and it was a kindness I would repay with murder.
Filled with restless energy, I stood and started pacing the parlour. He had been given one of the chambers reserved for diplomats, and I supposed it might have been impressive – if I hadn’t grown up in the royal suites.
I risked a glance out of the window, where the governor was still speaking with his page. He asked a question and, although I couldn’t hear what was being said, it was clear he was agitated. When the page answered, Governor Halvor abruptly turned on his heel and strode away, too quickly to be casual.
I acted immediately, pouring my tea – and the governor’s poisoned one – into a nearby flowerpot. Rushing out of the parlour, I almost collided with the page on the stairs.
‘Your Highness,’ he said with a hasty bow. ‘The governor has been called away on urgent business. He asked that I relay his apologies, and his promise to—’
‘Of course,’ I said distractedly, already brushing past.
As I’d hoped, the governor was still visible. He was walking at a fast pace, casting furtive glances over his shoulder. It was clear that he didn’t want to be followed, and that realisation was intriguing enough to propel me through the palace grounds and out the main gates.
Trailing him through the congested streets of the Higher Districts, I used the street vendors and lines of eager customers to mask my presence. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the governor, but my interest increased as he drew closer to the harbour.
While there was no rule against visiting the Lower Districts, I had only been there a few times – and never during daylight hours. In the bright light of the afternoon, it seemed shrunken and neglected. Many doors and windows were boarded shut, and scraps of rubbish blew across the cobblestones.
‘Lonely, honey?’ a woman cooed to the governor, who didn’t pause.
I kept my head down, hoping to avoid her notice. The perfumed scent of a brothel wafted to me as I passed.
When I looked up again, the governor had stopped in front of a solid wall. Wondering what on earth he was doing, I took shelter in an alcove and peered around the corner – just as a wooden door materialised.
Magic.
It was rare to see it outside of the three Orders. Even rarer to see it here, in the heart of the empire.
I was tempted to find out what would happen if I approached the wall. Did the enchantment only respond to certain individuals, or was the door simply concealed?
But even if it did work, I knew better than to follow the governor inside. Never was I more aware of my own limitations than at times such as these. If only my illusions weren’t limited to touch.
The faint sound of conversation warned me I was no longer alone. I slipped into the shadows of a nearby doorway as two figures stepped into view.
‘What is this place, Darius?’ It was a girl who spoke, her clear voice filled with curiosity. ‘Who were those people?’
‘This is what we call the Lower Districts. No city – no matter how beautiful – can exist without its darker underbelly.’
I didn’t recognise the man, but it was the girl who caught my attention: her dark hair hanging in loose curls down her back, her olive skin bright and warm. She had dressed to blend in, but she still didn’t quite fit – she walked like a fighter, not a lady, and the steely set of her shoulders spoke of determination. Though I was sure I had never seen her before, there was something so familiar about her.
Darius raised his fist to knock, and once again the wall transformed into a door. This time, a symbol blazed to life, as if burned into the wood: two swords intersecting in an X.
A knock, and it swung open – as if opened by an invisible presence.
‘You look like you’ve never seen magic before,’ Darius drawled to the girl, disappearing inside. His voice became distant as he moved further away. ‘Keep up, darlin’,’ he called.
As if she sensed my presence, the girl glanced back over her shoulder. Her gaze swept over the doorway where I watched, still and silent from the shadows. Then, shrugging a little, she followed her companion inside, the door closing behind her.
My curiosity was almost overpowering as I climbed onto the roof of the building opposite, wondering who this mysterious girl could be. And what her connection was to the Governor of Kalure.