Page 49

Chapter Thirty-Six

Aurelia

W hen friction of the chisel’s handle against my palm breaks the skin, I suppress my wince. Gritting my teeth, I keep digging the tool into the surface of the stone block.

With each chip I dislodge, the shape of Creaden’s sigil unfurls.

Purple light spills down over me from the stained glass windows in the temple’s roof. Devouts in matching tunics and trousers watch me from a careful distance.

I doubt any of them expected to see their empress hunched over a row of five stones in the middle of their temple’s worship room. But this is what my gift showed me when I prodded it for an idea of how to heal any rift there might be between me and the godlen of leadership.

Ordering my staff to build traveling palaces for the continent’s other rulers isn’t enough. I have to show how committed I am personally to constructing a stronger foundation than the venomous ties of tyranny.

I finish the sigil in the first block without pausing. My palm has only reddened, no blood seeping through the raw spot.

Not enough. My vision was clear about that aspect of my act of dedication too.

I nick the skin deeper with the corner of the chisel. A few scarlet beads well up in the hollow of my hand.

A rough sound from behind me tells me that Marc has noticed the harm I’ve done to myself. I can imagine him stiffening against his urge to rush in and bandage my palm.

But the former emperor trusts me enough to leave me be, even if he doesn’t approve of my current methods.

I let the blood drip onto the sigil and meld it into the stone with the tip of the chisel. The gray surface turns faintly pink.

How appropriate. The color of love, when I’m enduring this discomfort out of a love for all the downtrodden people of the empire.

I do wrap my hand after I’m satisfied with my first effort, to better get to work on the second of the five blocks.

Now that I’ve found my rhythm, the process goes faster.

I fall into a meditative state, imagining the conferences that could be held at the imperial palace with all the countries’ royals speaking as equals. A pinnacle of leadership.

If we can reach that future. Please, Creaden, help me see the way through to it.

Why wouldn’t he want to share my dream?

Perhaps the godlen Dariu has claimed as one of their two patrons celebrated the empire’s victories when its forces first swept across the continent, bringing order and authority in the wake of the devastating Great Retribution.

But now, after centuries of that authority devolving into bullying and torment?

How many recent emperors and empresses have been admirable leaders to anyone except the people of Dariu itself?

They haven’t served even the Darium citizens all that well, considering the animosities they’ve provoked against their home country.

By the time I finish the fifth block, both of my hands are aching, as is my back. Crimson droplets splatter the tiled floor.

Gritting my teeth, I straighten up and carry the blocks out to our carriage despite the guards hovering around me eager to help.

These stones will be the first laid in the foundations workers are already preparing on the grounds around Vivencia’s palace.

Marc can’t keep totally quiet. “We can see about calling a healer?—”

I cut him off with a shake of my head. “The bandage will serve well enough. I’m not making this gesture for it to be easy.”

I turn toward the temple, nodding to the cleric watching us go before tapping my fingers down my front in acknowledgment of the higher power whose attention I hope I’ve caught.

Cleric Pierus insisted on joining me for this venture as well. He makes his own gesture to the divinities and follows me into the carriage.

As he sits down on the bench across from me, he dips his head. “Your commitment to the gods does you immense credit, Your Imperial Highness. It’s been fascinating to watch, but I don’t know how much farther I can advise you.”

I smile in return. “I’m grateful for your support all the same. ”

The carriage rattles down the road back to Vivencia. I didn’t have time to venture all the way out to the country’s most massive temple of Creaden, where I participated in the dedication ceremony a year ago, but this one a couple of hours from the city is nearly as prominent.

We aren’t heading straight back to the palace, though. I’ve already instructed the driver on our next stop.

Partway through the city, we stop outside a different temple, this one tall and narrow and built of the palest limestone. Devouts of my patron godlen slip in and out of the doors, carrying satchels slung over their shoulders.

The Eloxian cleric emerges to meet me by the carriage. She hands me a satchel of my own, the lines at the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You don’t need to exert yourself any more than you already have, Your Imperial Highness. I understand you were quite ill just a few days ago.”

“I’m fully recovered now,” I assure her, though the truth is my skin still pinches a little at the brush of the cool breeze. “It’s my job more than anyone else’s to look after this city.”

I want the people who’ve suffered because of Sabrelle’s wrath against me to see how much I’m on their side.

Two of the devouts join me and my guards, directing us through the streets to one they haven’t traversed yet. We knock on each house’s door and ask whether anyone within is ill and needs the cure I concocted—at its full vitality now that fresh persinam blossoms have been coaxed into blooming.

Many of the civilians gape at me in open awe, recognizing me even though I’ve left my crown in the palace and dressed for traveling rather than a formal event. I hand over vials of the potion with murmurs of encouraging words.

“We’ll see the whole city well again, as soon as possible. I would never leave you to suffer alone.”

In the past couple of days, the new strain of camp pox has spread throughout Vivencia and started to trickle into the surrounding countryside.

It swept through the literal camps of the Darium soldiers who’ve been recalled to defend the capital if need be.

I visited some of the ill men and women at arms yesterday in an attempt to raise their spirits as well as cure them.

More than half Valerisse’s army now squats just south of the Lavirian border. I don’t know what she’s waiting for. Perhaps she thought the disease would hit us harder, and now she’s re-evaluating her approach.

She has more help than I’d like even here. We’ve just turned the corner when a few urgent voices peal down the street.

“Tribune Valerisse is following Sabrelle’s will! Her army is coming to set the empire to rights.”

“We must all show our proper dedication rather than supporting the false empress!”

“Those who turn against the godlen of war will fall to her blade! Don’t you know where your loyalties should lie? She’s already punishing us!”

My teeth set on edge. A few of my guards push toward the civilians, who I suppose are Sabrellian dedicats, but I call for them to halt.

I clamber onto a stack of crates so more of the passersby can see me.

“Sabrelle wishes for bloodshed and violence. I don’t claim to be an empress by birth, but I’m here to protect all of you as well as my daughter, the imperial heir, until she’s of age.

I stand for peace, and so does my godlen.

Let us support each other and strive toward a future that’s bountiful for us all! ”

Several of the nearby civilians clap. Many others avert their gazes and hustle away.

My stomach sinks with my scramble downward. The illness might not have gotten too deep a hold on my people’s bodies, but it’s given Sabrelle another in-road into their minds and loyalties.

How much longer can this treacherously subtle war continue before I’ve lost without swords ever clashing?

By the time I make it back to the palace, the smells of the coming dinner are wafting through the halls. I mean to head straight to Coraya’s apartment before anything else, but as I pass the parlor, I spot a familiar head of sleek black hair ahead of me.

Bianca catches sight of me at the same moment. Her posture goes briefly rigid, as if she’s not pleased to have been noticed.

She’s kept to her rooms the past few days, supposedly still recovering. I didn’t want to impose. But if she’s well enough to be on her feet now…

I don’t think I can leave this uncertainty simmering between us any longer.

I stride toward her. “Vicerine, it’s good to see you so well. I’ve been asking after you.”

Bianca inclines her head and takes a small step back. “I appreciate your concern more than I can say. I didn’t want to add to your responsibilities with so much else going on—I was never overly unwell.”

“Checking in on a friend is a pleasure, not a responsibility.” I hesitate and motion her to a nearby sitting room where we can speak more privately. “Would you give me a moment?”

“Of course, Aurelia.”

Among the armchairs, neither of us seems to feel comfortable sitting. Memories of the aggressive shouts among the city folk ring through my head .

Surely Bianca hasn’t changed her views of me completely?

Would she admit it even if she had?

It seems simplest to cut to the heart of the matter. “You’ve been awkward around me in the past couple of weeks. Sometimes even avoiding me? If I’ve offended you in some way?—”

Bianca’s eyes widen. She lets out a sputter of a laugh. “Offended me ? You should never—if I gave that impression?—”

She halts as if she can’t find the right words. Her astonishment sounded genuine enough that my worst worries subside.

“Will you tell me what’s the matter, then?” I ask gently.

“I only…” She sighs and rubs her temple.

“After it became so clear that Sabrelle is acting against you, I started thinking— You’ve been doing your best to gain the favor of the gods, and here I am dedicated to Prospira but with no interest in having children or really any kind of family, so often focused only on myself. ”

Her gaze lifts to meet mine. “If I’ve let down my godlen, I don’t want any ill favor to rub off on you through association.”

“Bianca.” My lungs constrict so tightly it takes a moment before I can breathe again. All this time, she was fretting about my security.

I rest my hand on her arm. “If I’ve learned anything from my communing with the gods, it’s that there are so many ways to show our devotion.

Prospira doesn’t only cultivate families and that sort of fertility but the other sorts of abundance you talked about.

I can’t see why she wouldn’t approve of you making the most of the rewards you’ve gained, the wealth you’ve come into. ”

The vicerine shakes her head, but her posture has relaxed. “You may be right. I didn’t want to take the chance. There’s so much at stake. I’d hate to be an obstacle in your way.”

She’s been taking that responsibility on herself just as I’ve considered myself responsible for the lives of everyone in the empire. With a swell of compassion, I step closer to her and give her a quick hug.

“You’re not an obstacle,” I tell her when I step back. “I need different attitudes and ideas around me if I’m going to find every tactic that could get us through this mess. Please don’t shun yourself on my behalf.”

A wry smile tugs at her lips. “Fair enough.”

The mention of shunning brings back another idea I toyed with earlier. I’m only more sure of my decision now.

“Soon you’ll be able to shed even more of your family if you’d like.

” I motion vaguely to the world beyond the palace walls.

“I need to choose a new guardian for the estate that once belonged to Marchion Syrus. If it was yours, you wouldn’t be reliant on Ennius’s lands to support your position.

I don’t see why you shouldn’t be a marchionissa rather than a vicerine. ”

For the second time in this conversation, Bianca stares at me. “I—I wouldn’t ask that?—”

I grin, feeling as if I’ve gotten one thing utterly right. “Which is why you deserve it more than most.”

We only have to get through the coming war with our heads still attached to our bodies, and then it can actually matter.