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Chapter Five

Aurelia

W hen I emerge from my chambers to head to the palace training room, I find Kassun among the guards currently posted outside. His gaze flicks to Marc exiting behind me, and his eyes narrow beneath his light brown curls.

He clears his throat, his expression determined though his cadence is a little awkward. “Your Imperial Highness—if I could raise a private concern with you…?”

A chill squeezes my gut. Has something gone wrong among my guards?

“Of course,” I say, and motion him farther down the hall where the others can still keep watch but won’t hear our conversation.

Kassun glances over my shoulder toward the others and lowers his voice for extra caution. “This new fellow—Marc… I know he helped get you out of the fire. I’m glad he did. But he seems to be… imposing on your good will. A lot.”

A softer pang runs through my chest. The guard who’s proven to be so loyal despite his initial misgivings is looking out for me as he has often in the past. He can’t help that he doesn’t know the full story.

I offer him a genuine smile. “I promise I’d have no trouble sending him off if his presence felt like an imposition.

I do actually find it comforting having him close at hand for additional protection.

It’s no criticism of your or anyone else’s abilities.

I know it’s silly. But ever since Marclinus’s death and the fire, it’s been hard to even sleep… ”

I don’t like showing that shred of weakness, especially when it’s false, but my last comment relaxes Kassun’s shoulders. A trace of chagrin crosses his face. “I’m sorry for making you think about that awful time.”

“It’s all right. I appreciate your concern. Don’t ever hesitate to speak to me if something is troubling you , no matter what it is.”

His pale face brightens, and he returns with me to the rest of my entourage with more energetic strides—and less glowering at Marc.

When we come to a stop just inside the training room a few minutes later, a tang of sweat meets my nose. All of my guards tense around me with hints of uncertainty. The soldiers jerking to rigid attention don’t look much more comfortable.

Even after a week and confirmation from the imperial medics of my recovery, no one’s quite convinced that my latest venture is a good idea. I’ll have to persuade them with actions rather than words.

I brush my hands together and tip my head to the soldiers.

“Thank you in advance for the patience and guidance I know you’ll offer me!

It means more than I can say to learn all I can so I’ll be able to stand up to whatever forces threaten us by the most practical means.

We’ve faced too much tragedy in Dariu already. ”

Most of the soldiers have been running through their exercises in a stripped-down version of their usual uniform, wearing only the loose slacks and short-sleeved shirts, no jackets or belts.

A man in an officer’s garb moves between them to meet me, his mouth set at an uneasy angle beneath his trim moustache.

Though he stands only a few inches taller than my five and a half feet, he’s sturdily built with a clear impression of strength in his brisk strides.

His features look oddly delicate in contrast, but his eyes shine with alertness beneath the short waves of his fawn-brown hair.

I can’t help thinking of the hunting terriers Nica’s family keeps back home in Accasy.

“Captain Evando at your service, Your Imperial Highness.” He dips his head with a sweep of his gaze over me. “Although I’m not sure— Our typical regimen is quite vigorous. We can do our best to adapt it to your needs?—”

“Empress Aurelia can hold her own just fine,” Neven pipes up from where he’s just joined me. The young prince volunteered to train alongside me, saying he wanted to learn even more after the two weeks he spent consigned to the soldiers’ quarters in Goric.

Kassun, who’s seen the most of my previous training out of my guards, speaks up in a more respectful tone. “I don’t think you’ll find any reason to complain about her mettle.”

A slight flush colors the captain’s cheeks. “I certainly wouldn’t criticize Her Imperial Highness. Is—is this the outfit you intended to train in?”

I glance down at my dress as he does. While I was waiting for my body to repair itself, I had time to commission a couple of plain frocks for this purpose. The linen gown follows the usual airy Darium style, but with no extra layers or frills.

“You might be surprised how much movement a garment like this allows,” I say with a small smile. “And should I face another assassin—or, Great God help us, worse—it’s unlikely I’ll have time to change into proper fighting gear before taking action.”

Captain Evando’s flush deepens. “You’re quite right. Of course. Well… Do you have an idea of where you’d like to start?”

“I’ll admit my skills are relatively limited at the moment. Where would you begin with a new recruit?”

I’d imagine I have even fewer combat skills than a typical fledgling imperial soldier, but Evando appears to give the question genuine consideration.

“You’ll want to build up your physical strength in general and get comfortable with whatever weapon you’re most likely to have on hand.

We can also work in some strategies for making use of your environment.

And basic combat without weapons, if you find yourself with nothing on hand at all. ”

A gravelly voice pushes into the conversation from behind me. “You should focus on defensive techniques. Our empress won’t be risking herself rushing in to attack unnecessarily.”

I don’t know whether to be pleased that Marc took Lorenzo’s suggestion to heart or concerned that he’s forgetting his new place. The captain narrows his eyes at the supposed guard, probably peeved by the domineering tone.

The former emperor is still getting used to the idea that he isn’t the top dog in every room.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve discussed with my personal guard,” I put in quickly, resisting the urge to shoot a warning glare over my shoulder. I pat the sheath on my belt. “And when it comes to weaponry, I’ve mostly carried a small knife, but I think it may be time I graduate to some sort of sword.”

So that I can better wield the Sabrelle-blessed sword that may be my key to gaining her favor.

Evando grunts. “Why don’t we start with physical conditioning and perhaps a few independent forms? We can work up to actual sparring.”

I nod. “Don’t go easy on me. I’ll speak up if anything’s too much.”

Despite my words, I think the captain does hold back at first. He sends me loping around the edges of the room and then into a series of simple arm movements and lunges.

But as I tackle them with all the energy I can display, enjoying the first prickling of sweat forming on my skin, his qualms seem to dwindle.

He directs me through a few rounds of sit-ups and push-ups that leave my belly and my arms wobbling and then grabs a couple of small weights from a nearby rack.

“It’s your arm strength you’ll need to develop the most if you’re going to swing a sword effectively.

Core and leg endurance will keep your balance solid, so we won’t neglect those areas either. ”

I huff a laugh. “I’m glad to hear it.”

As I heft the weights, relieved to find that the captain hasn’t started me on too torturous a challenge, I’m aware of Marc watching alongside my other guards. His gaze rarely veers from me. The intensity of it prickles into my skin, but I don’t acknowledge him.

He’d better not decide for me that I’ve had enough.

My personal guards aren’t the only ones following my progress.

More and more, the other soldiers training around me are glancing over, curious to see how Her Imperial Highness is faring.

Neven, who’s joined their brief sparring matches, points over at me with hushed comments I’ll assume are in my favor.

By the time my shoulders and biceps are outright aching, I’ve gotten a few eager smiles and whoops of approval.

“That’s our empress!” someone shouts from farther back in the room.

Marc stirs as if annoyed by the irreverence but thankfully keeps quiet.

The hourly bell peals faintly through the walls. I swipe my hand across my damp forehead and aim a grateful smile of my own at Captain Evando. “I think I’ve pushed myself far enough for my first day.”

He surprises me with a chuckle and a twitch of his hand as if he was about to clap me on the shoulder like he might an underling. “It’s also important to know your limits. Whenever you want another training session, Your Imperial Highness?—”

“Same time tomorrow?” I suggest.

He tips his head. “It would be my honor.”

I retrace my steps through the halls with my guards following. “Wait ‘til they see you with a sword!” Kassun crows, and then hastily adds a respectful, “Your Imperial Highness.”

My maids are waiting in my rooms—the restored empress’s apartment I got to return to a few days ago. The change in wallpaper and much of the furnishings diminish the reminders of the traumatic struggle that took place here, but sometimes I think I catch a whiff of smoke that makes my pulse hitch.

While Marc takes his now-customary post right inside the door, Jinalle and Eusette usher me off to the bathing room with exclamations over my sweat-damp gown and mussed hair .

“We’ll have you right as rain soon enough, Your Imperial Highness,” Eusette promises in her upbeat way.

Once I’ve been washed and dressed in a more suitable imperial gown, my hair coiled and my face powdered, I send them off with my thanks. I’d head straight out into the palace myself to join the court at its leisure, but Marc’s grim expression where he’s standing by the door stops me.

I halt in the middle of the rug across from him. “What? Did I not live up to Sabrelle’s standards on my first try?”