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Chapter Nine

Aurelia

C hatter and laughter carry through the imperial gardens in the glow of the evening lanterns.

I meander between the flowerbeds and hedge sculptures, wondering at how easily the court can shrug off this afternoon’s events. The atmosphere might be slightly more subdued than usual, but you’d never suspect we’re on the verge of civil war.

Or that I murdered someone a few hours ago.

A flicker of the memory passes behind my eyes, and my pulse hiccups with a heavy thud. The taste of bile seeps through my mouth, overpowering the delicate perfume of the first spring flowers.

Before my lingering horror can drag me too far under, Coraya squirms in my arms with a burble of sound. A smile tugs at my lips alongside the ache in my heart. I dip my head to press a kiss to her soft head .

Part of me wants to shut us away in my apartment so I can simply lie on my side and stare at her for hours on end, pretending the rest of the empire doesn’t exist. I’d rather help change her soiled swaddling cloths a thousand times than face another scene like today’s.

Unfortunately, I don’t expect I’ll get the option of making that trade.

I adjust her so she’s positioned more upright, which she often seems to prefer. As she takes in our surroundings with her head leaned against my shoulder, Bianca ambles over to join me with a few of the other noblewomen trailing behind her. Coraya blinks her wide eyes and lets out a soft coo.

The vicerine has never shown any interest in having children of her own, but she smiles at my daughter warmly enough. “They really do grow fast, don’t they? Look at her, taking the measure of us all already.”

I chuckle. “It can’t hurt for her to get started early. She’ll have far more to learn than I did.”

“We can all contribute there.” Bianca pauses and glances over her shoulder at her companions: Baronissas Hivette and Damina, who’ve often stood by me when I’ve taken my minor stands; the elderly Marchionissa Lucrene, who’s always seemed to hold herself above palace gossip; and a couple of middle-aged vicerines I’m not as familiar with, who duck their heads at my gaze.

Her smile turning wry, Bianca shifts her attention back to me. “The six of us were talking about joining in the combat training you’ve taken up. If you don’t mind having the company, and if the soldiers will tolerate the occasional additional intrusion.”

Of all the proposals she might have made, I’d never have expected that one. “You want to learn how to fight?”

Bianca lifts her shoulder with a careless air, but her eyes are sharp as ever.

“The men of court generally learn some of those arts in their younger years. But not all of us have a husband around to defend us—and why shouldn’t we pitch in to defend our empire if there’s need?

Plenty of commoners become full soldiers despite being women.

There’s no reason we can’t pick up a few tricks. Our empress has inspired us.”

She outright grins, and I can’t help grinning back. She has a point there. And she must be feeling a little unsteady in her position with her husband banished to their estate, as welcome as his absence might be.

The two baronissas are married to each other, with no interest in entangling themselves with men. The marchionissa is a widow. I believe one of the other vicerines has never married, and the other… She’s attached to that viceroy who tends to be lost in his cups before dinner’s even over, isn’t she?

Perhaps if they set the standard, more of the court’s ladies will expand their horizons as well.

“I don’t see why that should be a problem,” I say. “I’ll speak to Captain Evando, who’s been overseeing my own training, during my next session.”

“Perfect.” Bianca gives me a sharper smirk. “We can’t let any tribunes get ideas about this palace being easy pickings.”

I bite back the comment that it’s probably not the tribune we most need to worry about.

From what Bianca has reported over the past several days, attitudes throughout the court have remained mainly in my favor, but today’s events might have shifted them.

It’s impossible to know who the godlen of war could be working on through dreams and visions they don’t dare speak of openly.

As that thought passes through my head, I catch sight of Neven’s white-blond hair where he’s strolling around a nearby fountain. I meant to speak with him when I had the chance.

“I look forward to seeing us all increase our might,” I tell the noblewomen, and glide off toward the young prince .

Neven glances up at my approach, his shoulders momentarily tensing. Even when he relaxes, his stance remains a little awkward.

The prince of Goric has never looked as though he’s sure how he fits in here.

I veer to fall into step beside him, and he gamely wanders on as if there’s nothing unusual about my coming over.

“I’m glad you got through the challenge today without any harm done… to you or those of us at court, anyway,” he says after a moment.

“Thank you again for your forewarning. You’re obviously well in tune with your godlen’s moods.

” I grapple with the phrasing of my request. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any sense of how she feels about my handling of the challenge.

I was hoping to impress rather than offend her, but I realize it was a tricky balance considering the circumstances. ”

Neven’s mouth twists. “I haven’t gotten any impression that she’s celebrating the outcome. I suppose I’ll see what dreams come tonight.”

“If you can read any signs in them, good or bad, I’d like to hear about it. I do want to make peace with her… however exactly one does that with a godlen of war.”

A strained guffaw tumbles out of the prince. “It might take some time with how riled up she seems to be. I think you showed plenty of strength.”

With Neven having become one of my biggest critics until recently, I’ll take that comment as a victory in itself.

The corner of my mouth quirks upward. “It’s easier to show your true self when you’re not cast in a much longer shadow.”

Neven rubs the back of his neck. “Yes, I can see… why you had to make certain compromises.”

Axius crosses our path. He takes in our odd pairing before dipping in a brief bow to me. “Your Imperial Highness, you look rather serious. You know if you have any concerns about your security, you can come to me.”

He’s one to talk, when his grizzled face is as grim as always. Perhaps he’s recalling that Neven and his princely foster brothers were there to help rescue me from the fire when he wasn’t.

“No new concerns,” I reassure him. “Neven has felt Sabrelle’s divine influence in the past…

After today’s confrontation, I thought he might have useful information to share.

” I cock my head. “Are you dedicated to Sabrelle yourself, High Commander?” It’s the most common godlen dedication among military folk, for obvious reasons.

Axius shakes his head. “I made my appeal to Creaden. It was always my goal to lead our might as well as I could and to build on the empire’s strengths.”

At least I don’t have to worry about the godlen of war muddling his head with unnerving dreams, then. Assuming she’s the only divinity who’s taken an issue with my conduct.

“I don’t suppose Creaden has blessed you with any dreams or visions about our immediate future,” I ask in as casual a tone as I can summon.

“As far as I can tell from the prayers I’ve made, he wants me to continue to direct you along the best path I can.”

“Well, I’m certainly grateful for your direction.” I hesitate before asking, but if anyone should be able to pry, it’s an empress. “You mentioned making an appeal—did your dedication ceremony include a gift?”

Axius doesn’t look offended by the question. He taps his side. “Just a moderate one. I gave up a rib. When sending a squadron or group of squadrons into battle, I have a knack for arranging them in the most effective formation.”

A very soldier-esque talent to fit the godlen of rulership and construction’s areas of expertise. I let my tone turn dry. “ Let’s hope we don’t need to make use of that gift anytime soon.”

Coraya shifts against my shoulder. I’d think she’s just getting restless, except then she starts mouthing at my neck as if she thinks it might start producing milk.

I have to laugh even as my breasts twinge in anticipation of her need. “Please excuse me. My daughter is hungry.”

I’ve tucked myself away on a secluded bench and brought Coraya’s mouth to my chest when Marchionissa Lucrene drifts over to me. She beams down at the imperial heir. “We have to cherish these times while they’re young. They grow up so quickly.”

“I’ll be happy if she simply gets the chance to grow up at all,” I say without thinking, and then clamp my lips shut with an embarrassed flush of my cheeks.

The elderly marchionissa shows no sign of offense at my baldness.

The fine lines at the corners of her eyes crinkle deeper.

“You’re facing an unusual challenge. It always seems harder for the empresses than the emperors, though even the one I knew long ago never had to deal with so much resistance. ”

The one she knew before—Emperor Tarquin’s mother? Lucrene must have been a young woman when that lady reigned. I wonder what color her silver-white hair used to be.

I tip my head in politer acknowledgment. “I’m following the best course I can.”

She nods. “From what I’ve seen, that’s all you can do. Fighting and talking prettily are both important, of course, but her greatest strength—the way she led—was in her resolve. You reminded me of her today. Keep that conviction, and I think you’ll find the way through.”

The earlier ache spreads through my chest again. “I’ll do my best.”

“There are always going to be people with different opinions in a country this big, let alone the whole empire.” Lucrene tsks her tongue.

“So many different needs. But I’ve seen how well you’ve managed to balance them so far.

Just take your allies wherever you can find them.

You never know when one person might make the difference. ”

The thought of relying on even more people than I’ve already drawn into danger around me sends a jitter through my nerves. But perhaps an ally’s support doesn’t need to be that perilous. Lucrene is making a difference right now, isn’t she?

A lump rises in my throat. I adjust Coraya against me as I compose my response. “Thank you for your advice. I may want to speak with you again about how that past empress handled herself. Of course, it’d be my pleasure to reward you for your service to the empire?—”

The marchionissa waves off my comment before I can finish. “Not at all. You’ve already given me a reward in letting me speak so freely.”

She hesitates as if she’s afraid I might punish her for her honesty after all, and it occurs to me that she’s admitting to the lack of freedom she felt under her past rulers. My throat tightens even more.

“I’m glad I could offer that much,” I say quietly.

A bright smile curves Lucrene’s thin lips. She bows to me just as the night nursemaid bustles over.

The nursemaid clicks her tongue at me but lets me finish the feeding before holding out her arms for Coraya, who’s now dozing. “You need your rest too, Your Imperial Highness. Especially today.”

I can’t argue with her. When I push back to my feet, my whole body feels leaden.

I slip away from the continuing revelry in the garden. At my chambers, Marc follows me inside while the other guards remain in the hall. He spreads his usual pallet without a word while I unravel my hair from its pins. I’d rather not bother with maids tonight.

“I think you did well today,” Marc says softly. “My mighty empress.”

His gaze catches mine and holds it with his usual intensity. The skip of my heart is unnerving but not totally unpleasant.

My hand flexes at my side. “I’d rather have avoided killing anyone.”

“Sometimes we don’t have a choice. What matters is that you act when you must.”

Gods grant me as few “must” situations as possible.

That thought brings my attention to my trunk that holds my brewing equipment. Marchionissa Lucrene’s remarks linger in my head.

I want to hold on to my convictions. I don’t have to fight these battles the way Sabrelle and Valerisse envision.

I have my own methods.

When I open the trunk and take out the cauldron, Marc lets out a puzzled sound. “Aren’t you going to bed?”

I shake my head. “I have something I want to start brewing first. It shouldn’t take long.”

My gift is already unfurling behind my eyes, adjusting the giddying hallucinogenic I concocted so many times before without its aphrodisiac aspect.

I turned the worst side of my husband into putty plenty of times with a prick of the hidden needle on my ring. Perhaps I can use a similar tactic to diffuse one or another future hostility so no swords need to be drawn to begin with.