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48: Will You…
🕑 Added 2023-08-29 08:46:16 +0000 UTC“Let nothing delay your return home,” Mydea read aloud from her father’s notebook. “Steelwing returned to us riderless this morning. We are scouring the paths to Aigis in search. Only one man can be behind it.”
Troia gasped audibly. “Lord Aspyrtus… is he…”
“Still your tongue!” Mydea said. To speak the word would be to cast a portent. He couldn’t be… It was a thought too terrible to think. Her twin brother who had survived six years in the athenaeum; six years of scorn and slights. She refused to believe that Aspyr would let himself be brought low so ignobly. “We cannot be certain from just this much.”
Unfortunately, Father’s answers to the myriad questions she’d written in response could best be described as curt. All she knew was that Aspyr was missing, and that they’d found Tuskar corpses.
“My lady, what should we do?”
What should she do? What else could she do? “We go home.” Her brother was missing. Father had torched farms and whole forests for far less.
“Will the Empress permit our return this time?” Troia asked.
“Pack my things,” Mydea said in lieu of an answer.
The situation had turned dire, and she was the heir to Kolchis. Mydea could not become princess-consort without renouncing her claim, and that flimsy possibility was their sole excuse to keep her skybound. The Empress would have to let her leave, not because Her Highness was prone to sentimentality, but because She could not appear heartless.
Even the House Imperial had to play their part.
Mydea glanced at her reflection in the mirror—and ripped off her emerald teardrop earrings. Her matching set of silver bangles and torque necklace rattled as they hit the wooden floor with force. Not even the long ivory hairpin keeping her hair in a neat bun was spared from abuse, smashing into the far wall.
Troia remained quiet as a mouse throughout, watching with wide eyes and not even daring to breathe. In all the years she’d served as Mydea’s maid, Mydea had never let herself act like this.
She fastened her mother’s sword to her hip. Only when she was nearly at the door did Troia call out, “My lady, your ears are bleeding.” Her maid stepped forward with raised hands, and Mydea could feel the magic flowing to the tips of her fingers. It was a trivial matter for any athenaeum graduate to heal such a light injury.
“Leave it. Just do as I’ve said.”
Troia frowned, but could do nothing but bow in response. Mydea was her mistress and it was not her place to advise when her mind was already made.
Besides, to allow Troia to heal her would be to undo her good work. She had not injured herself only to reap no gain from the pain.
“Only one man can be behind it,” Father had said. Who else could he suspect but Lord Eminent Pleonexia? He had not shared the reasons for his suspicion, but she could guess. It was a drastic act for their liege to sanction highborn assassination when he’d previously been content with a slow strangulation of their house. Mydea would ordinarily have thought it out of the question…
But this wasn’t an ordinary situation.
Why would Lord Eminent Pleonexia choose to plunge the knife now? The answer was all too clear to Mydea—the very same issue that had been at the forefront of her mind for a week now.
Her father’s lifework was flight unaided, and though it was half-formed and still far from fruition, it was a signature spell that could rival Appropriation. Father’s genius turned the question of if the spell could be made to work to when. How Lord Pleonexia had learned of it she was less clear on, but he was the wealthiest stoneborn in the whole of the Syngian Empire. Mayhaps a spy in Aigis had found it out? She’d long suspected that he had bought eyes and ears in her own home.
Mother had advised in her handbook that “Small slights sharpen steel.” The stoneborn ought to be treated well, or destroyed utterly.
What had Lord Pleonexia inflicted on them since Mydea’s grandfather had died, if not slights? They’d borne it for years because nothing else could be done. But if Father’s spell was ever completed, Mydea was not certain that vengeance would be stayed even by a vow of marriage.
Now more than ever, Mydea could not act carelessly. She needed more than her father’s suspicions to go on. Such a bold action by Lord Eminent Pleonexia would reach his princely brother, even if her liege wished otherwise. Prince-Consort Pythos’ good health and standing in Aelisium over all these years was no accident. He ought to be aware of the shape of things, if not the specifics.
Of course, she could not ask him to his face. He’d never admit it, even if they both knew the truth. He understood some things were better left unsaid. But Pythos was not her peer. His lofty position provided him comforts aplenty and the luxury to misstep without worry—a luxury she’d never known. Many times when they had spoken he had shown his hand too early, or given her information he did not have to.
It would be harsh to label those small lapses as mistakes … but the Imperial City was the Mouth of the Empire—an ever-ravenous maw that demanded tribute in kin and in kind, and in turn offered sharp rebuke.
Her feet brought her to the doorway of Lady Lara’s personal chambers. Even if the High Stewardess wasn’t here yet, she would be soon enough. Whispers never ceased in Aelisium, and after so many maidservants had witnessed her unusual appearance while storming down the halls of the Seraglio, how could Lara remain unaware? It would be far easier for the High Stewardess to find her than for Mydea to go searching the vast palace grounds herself.
She was proven right barely two minutes later when a senior maid in the Imperial livery, flanked by lesser servants, approached her. They put on a masterful act of calm and composure, as if they’d encountered her by chance. There was not a drop of sweat on them, no reddening of the face or perceptible shortness of breath.
But it was trivial for Mydea to twist the air around their undefended selves to her will, until she might as well have had her ear to their chests. Mydea smiled politely as they offered a courteous greeting and asked if she’d like to wait for Lady Lara inside.
The heart never lies, she thought.
Lady Lara’s room was as Mydea remembered it, with floors carpeted in the softest ermine and works of art adorning the walls. There were images of lifelike musicians from Old Ilyos playing a symphony and a tapestry of some foreign people hunting a serpentine river monster.
“Would you care for a drink, my lady?” the senior maidservant asked after Mydea seated herself. “Perhaps a sweet Primemarch vintage, or is something stronger in order? Mayhaps a Tear of Tranquility?”
What a lovely choice, to dull her senses with either a drink or a draught. “If you have it, some tea would be lovely.”
Of course they had it. This was the room of the High Stewardess, who was mistress of the Seraglio’s storehouses. They even knew the exact type of black tea she preferred without her having to tell them.
Mydea stirred her tea lightly with the proffered silver spoon before taking a sip. The quality of their brew was in no way inferior to that of the Golden Bud, and the maids here were polite enough not to mix anything else into her drink.
Lady Lara joined her not too long after, and a clap of her hands filled the room with a painted symphony. It was an old tune, something Grandmother had loved to hum on rainy days, but one that Mydea had never learned.
“I didn’t expect to see you here so soon, Lady Mydea,” Lara said as the junior maid helped unwrap the mink scarf around her delicate neck. Evidently she’d spent some time outside today. “Especially not like this. Is something the matter?”
“My brother is missing, and maybe worse.”
Lara seated herself, brows furrowed. “I’ve never been the most involved in the Deeplands’ affairs, but my understanding was that the Tuskar had been beaten back recently? How did this come to pass?”
“Your understanding is correct. By all accounts, the main host of the Tuskar had been scattered by my brother’s efforts. What happened next is less clear. He’d clearly felt safe enough to return to Aigis with a small retinue, and evidently, the Tuskar ambushed him on the way.”
“That—” Lara’s words died in her throat, but it was clear from her face that she understood. There were some things better left unsaid, even in the safety of their rooms.
Treachery.
Who else could have known the exact route Aspyr would take, but the very vassals with him? How could the Tuskar have outpaced Aspyr’s party to the site of the ambush on foot? It defied all sense; it violated the iron law of logistics.
What could move large numbers of people in casual contempt of time and space but Appropriation?
The Tuskar may have plunged the knife, but Pleonexia had placed it in their hands.
“You’ll want to return home as soon as possible,” Lara surmised.
It was refreshing to be in the presence of competence. “Sooner than what the Empress decreed at court,” Mydea said. It would be another whole week if she abided by the Empress’ timeline. Entire kingdoms had fallen in less.
“That may prove difficult,” Lara cautioned. “Prince-Consort Pythos fell ill this morning, and begged leave from court until he has recovered. It was granted.”
Mydea frowned. “Is he really?”
Lara shrugged. “No one’s seen him since, and I’ve heard he refuses to take any visitors. It may be difficult for the Empress to even hear your request without his backing.” With so many voices clamoring for Her attention, it was easy for one’s words to be drowned out in the cacophony. It had happened to Aspyr two months ago.
Why would Prince Pythos feign illness to keep her chained to this cloud of a city? Why keep her here when they’d already won? Kolchis was bereft of its lord.
The stoneborn ought to be treated well, or destroyed utterly. Did Pleonexia know those words too? Were they not content with her brother? Would they pursue this feud until everyone Mydea loved was gone?
Mydea’s blood froze in her veins and her skin felt numb. “Can nothing be done?”
“I’ll do what I can, but I do not know how quickly things can be put into motion.”
Mydea closed her eyes and breathed in deep…
…and when she opened them, the ice in her veins melted before that spark of rage that turned her heart into a furnace.
“Mydea?” Lara asked with a touch of concern.
She stood. “Thank you for the hospitality, Lady Lara, but I must be off.”
“What will you do?”
Mydea smiled, but it was all teeth and daggers. “Gamble.”
Lara’s mouth fell. “But you don’t gamble.”
“When I do not have to.” Had people taken that to mean she feared to flip the coin?
They’d chosen to imprison her in this place, in the only place she might still hurt them. House Pleonexia would come to regret it.
“Can you get me into the Imperial Palace tonight?” Mydea asked.
—Handbook—
Before the line of Syngian pieced the fragments of the Empire back together, the Houses Eminent had been royalty in their own right. In many ways they still were, with a plethora of rights and privileges their vassals could only dream of, granted to them during the Reunification or as the price for their support during the succession struggles. One such right, in particular, was that the House Imperial would not meddle without cause in how the eminent regions were ruled.
What constituted cause was a subject of endless debate among the hystors and endless war among the stoneborn.
Many of those who’d borne the Starlight Crown had not shied away from using any disagreements between the Houses Eminent and their vassals as pretense. Much as it’d have made her life easier, Mydea had to admit Empress Alcymede was wise to avoid that mistake of Her forebears. It was no happenstance She refused to weigh in on whether House Kolchis was a house external or a house nominal.
Without irrefutable evidence that Lord Pleonexia was behind the attack on her house, Her Highness would just as likely stand aside and watch Aigis turned into a grave. No, the House Imperial had to be moved to act in defense of Kolchis, or at least threaten to act on their behalf.
Only then would Lord Pleonexia be cowed.
Deep within the grounds of the Imperial Palace, beneath the luminescence of the Starlight Tower, there was a series of walled courtyard palaces. By design, they were not quite castles which could withstand a determined cadre of mages-at-arms, but nor were they places that one could just stroll into.
Mydea did the polite thing and knocked at the front door of Jaeson’s. “State your name and business,” a voice asked gruffly from within.
“It’s Lady Mydea. I wish to see His Excellency.” Lady Lara’s seal had gotten her this far in, but understandably, the pair of Whites guarding Jaeson’s residence weren’t about to just let her walk in on the say-so of a High Stewardess.
“It’s late out.”
“That makes it the perfect time to meet,” Mydea pressed. “He’ll want to see me.”
Her words gave them pause, and she could faintly hear them whispering to one another. She didn’t bother to eavesdrop this time. Strawborn maids might not have minded, or even noticed the intrusion, but steelborn certainly would.
“A moment, my lady,” a second, softer voice replied, followed by hurried footsteps.
It didn't take long for two sets of footsteps to return. "Open the doors." She recognized Jaeson’s voice.
"Good evening, Your Excellency." Mydea curtseyed as she caught a glimpse of the prince in his flowing night shirt.
He blinked at her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "It’s late. What are you doing here?"
Mydea tilted her head towards the pair of Whites watching them intently.
Jaeson sighed and stepped forward, close enough that she picked up on the scent of plums.
Without her heels, she had to stand on her toes to reach his ears. “I suppose I’m here to seduce you," she whispered, then pulled away. Mydea smiled as his face twisted with wary bemusement. "Might I come in? It’s rather cold out tonight.”
He raised a brow at her silk damask dress with a wide-open neckline that exposed the shoulders. “Forget our warming charms, did we?” he asked, stepping aside to let her through. Mydea let her bare shoulder graze his chest. A warm cocoon of heat and air wrapped around her, sheltering her from the worst of the weather. The door to his palace courtyard shut behind them as he led her in.
“I didn’t expect you to come see me yourself,” Mydea said, a grin still tugging at her lips. “What? Was your valet too busy, Your Excellency?”
Jaeson’s steps paused as they crossed the threshold. “Are you here to see Tomas, or me?”
A strange way to phrase the real question. “This is your courtyard, is it not?”
Jaeson didn’t seem pleased with her answer, and didn’t move from the doorframe as he turned to stare at her. Mydea snorted, letting her steps flow around him to get inside. Or at least she tried, before Jaeson’s grip on her arm stopped her.
“It isn’t proper for a guest to move ahead of their host, or their prince.”
“No more proper than a prince of the blood inviting a maiden into his home unaccompanied,” Mydea mused. “There must be something in the air tonight to be causing all this impropriety.”
His hold on her loosened. “As you say, my lady.”
Mydea crossed the threshold, and the world turned from cobblestone and cold, biting winds to surroundings of luxury that even Lara would have blushed at. But beneath the furs and silks and glitter of jewels was a subtle working to the room an untrained mind would miss entirely. Had her guard been lower, Mydea might’ve missed it too.
Put simply, Jaeson’s abode was much, much larger than it had any right to be for the physical space it occupied from the outside.
“Fascinating.” Mydea let out a breath as the true magnitude of the spell dawned on her. “The hystors have said that something like this is possible, but it’s only ever been theory.” She dared not ask how it had been achieved.
“I can count on my fingers the number of people who’ve realized what you have about this room.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “The mind can be distracted here with so much treasure and history and art to contemplate.”
“There are a lot of nice things to look at,” she agreed, turning her attention back towards him.
“This way.” He led them to a room warmed by a fireplace of spotless marble. Jaeson gestured for her to sit on a high-backed chair, before taking his own seat on the camelback couch across it. A sound of clicking heels approached from the second door feeding into the room, which led to the dining hall.
As expected of a prince’s household, his valet Tomas and a pair of manservants streamed into the room with porcelain trays. The silver lids only came off just before each was set on the glass table transversed between them, revealing teas and treats fit for half a dozen.
“I didn’t expect you to wake your whole household up on my account,” Mydea said.
Jaeson shrugged. “What servant sleeps easy when their master is awake?” He reached for the wooden box of dried tea bags and picked out a familiar one for her.
Mydea’s brow rose in recognition. “Sage’s tea?” She’d depleted her own stash from Kolchis a month into her stay in Aelisium.
“From my imperial cousin’s gardens.” Jaeson poured hot water for the both of them.
“I’m honored to taste it,” Mydea replied, meaning not a word of it. Knowing the source, how could she not be wary? Courtesy dictated that she not drink before the prince finished mixing his preferred two dollops of honey in, and she planned to take full advantage of that. By now, the manservants had all withdrawn from the room except for Tomas the Tall, Jaeson’s valet standing at attention some feet away. She idly noted that the real Tomas was shorter by an inch or three.
“Do you find my valet so fascinating?”
“Not anymore. He used to be much more entertaining.”
That got a smile from Prince Jaeson, and he gestured for Tomas to withdraw further backwards with a casual flick of his hand. “You mentioned something about seducing me? I must say, you haven’t tried very hard.”
Mydea picked up her cup to warm her hands, but didn’t drink from it yet. “You’ve heard by now, I’m sure?” This was Aelisium. He’d have heard even if he were deaf.
“Some things,” he admitted, nodding once. “No one seems to know what put you into such a frightening state this afternoon though. Theories range from scorned love to politics and everything in between. One isn’t quite sure what to believe.”
“My brother is missing. He might even be dead. It remains unclear, despite my family’s best efforts.”
“My sincerest condolences,” Jaeson said softly. “I know the two of you were close.” After a moment’s pause, “Is this goodbye then? His mantle falls to you now.”
“I am his heir, but Kolchis has no need of a Lady External stuck hundreds of miles away.”
Jaeson’s sharp features twisted into a frown. “How do you mean? You must go home, of course.”
“I would if I could. There are forces at play keeping me here.”
His cup slammed onto the table between them, nearly cracking the glass. “Who would dare? A word to my Imperial Aunt and—”
“You’re smarter than this,” she said, quieting him instantly. “Who would dare? Who would even care to keep me trapped here at a time like this?”
Jaeson leaned back into his couch. “If you are to succeed your brother, marriage to the House imperial is obviously impossible, and my cousins will lose all interest in you.” His eyes of skyborn silver glimmered. “Pleonexia. He’s the one keeping you here. Did he—” His question cut off there, unuttered.
Mydea nodded. “That and more. After all, why keep me trapped here?”
“He can still be beaten. I’ll do whatever is within my power.”
“Do not utter a promise you might come to regret.”
“Kolchis is the cornerstone of the Empire’s defense against the Tuskar. Many here might dismiss the threat they pose, but not I,” Jaeson insisted. “If you lack advocates, the Empress listens to my counsel.”
“She listens to you, but I am afraid She will not fight a war at your word,” Mydea said. “Her Highness has not reigned this long by acting on sentiment and even Pleonexia knows this.”
His shoulders sagged. “Must it go that far?”
“My brother is missing, yet he insists on imprisoning me in this gilded cage.” The glass in Mydea’s hand shook, splashing scalding tea onto her skin. “He leaves my family in the hands of my ailing grandmother, my underage sister, and my strawborn father. Do ask the good Lord Pleonexia your question the next time you see him, if any of my kin still live by then!”
“What would you have me do then? You did not come here tonight without a plan. I have never known you to be without one.”
“Lord Pleonexia must believe that Her Highness would be forced to fight a war if he were to continue down this path. Kolchis must fall firmly under Her aegis.”
Jaeson sighed. “You mean through marriage. To me.”
“Do you see anything less deterring my liege lord?” Her lips pursed. “Or does the thought of marrying me repulse you.”
Jaeson shook his head. “Neither, but you are the Lady External Kolchis now. Law and custom both forbid it.”
“I remain as I am until my brother is found and the proper vows have been uttered. I can still renounce my rights without the Empress’ permit.”
“And you’d be willing?”
She locked eyes with him. “To save my family? I would do anything.”
“Asking me this… no, even just coming here was a dangerous gamble.”
“One I had to take.” At long last, she drank from her cup of tea, only half-filled now. “We find each other pleasant enough, I think. And even if we didn’t, marriages have been built on little and less.”
“Not good ones.”
“No, only necessary ones,” Mydea retorted. “I’m not asking you to suffer a loss on my behalf either. My family has suffered a setback for now, but if we survive this, Pleonexia cannot hope to suppress us for long once certain things come to light. And in time, our strength would be your strength, to do with as you please.”
Jaeson crossed his arms. “You sound certain.”
Mydea scoffed. “Who else would we back if not you?”
“Not that. That Pleonexia cannot keep your strength in check.”
She paused. Should she tell him of Father’s spell? It was knowledge of that very thing that had caused this predicament … but if she gave him nothing, would he believe her? Would he believe that Kolchis could be of use to him in the future? “There is a spell in the making. I dare not say more even here.”
He looked searchingly into her eyes. “I believe it.” After a moment more, he continued, “I promised to do anything within my power to help, but I cannot marry you.”
