Book 7, Chapter 5: Etiquette Class
Sleeping in a gilded cage for women and girls, I was dreaming again and I hated dreaming, for in that realm lies the afterimages of portents, of things to come, and desired falsehoods to lead one astray. The sky of my dreams was dark, yet thick with the stars over land far from urban centers, light sent so long ago, those stars were elsewhere now and some long gone.
A cool breeze wafted through the trees I could not see, leaves shaking and almost sounding like rain.
“Sister, I cannot hold them forever!”
A man in a doorway – no, a passageway – baring it, muscles bulging, straining to keep it shut and locked from those within the Trap.
“How long can you hold?”
“Until my strength gives out!” Tall, arms and legs like tree trunks, he pushed against the ceiling and the floor, deep within an endless tunnel, its walls narrowing, crushing him. He grunted out, “But you don’t want that, lest they take what remains for themselves.”
“Why are you holding them inside, why don’t you escape to freedom?”
“To protect you, dear sister. Protect your new people.”
“I’m sorry, I should have destroyed the Temple and freed you.”
“If you didn’t, you couldn’t.”
Losing sight of him, the image went blurry almost as if sheets of rain were between us, yet I could feel his pain. Mighty muscles on his arm bulging, sweat falling off his golden hair, arms trembling to hold open the passage, pushing against its crushing force, his struggle somehow maintaining a lock on the Trap. Though that was my mortal imagination and nothing of reality.
“It’s true,” I said, “I would have freed you, but I could not. Lest I kill myself in the process,” and, I thought to myself, lose everything dear to me. But I’d be his sibling again. Perhaps I should have accepted those memories, perhaps that would have been better for everyone. A god would know what to do.
“Then I will protect the seal. Until I cannot.”
I sat up in bed, sweat giving me a chill. Moved the blankets off my body, freeing the moisture to evaporate away.
My brother, the god of war, fighting for me. One year old me and not the god he knew. I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, hugging myself. A being I betrayed – kin, in truth – and here he was protecting not only me but the entire planet. Perhaps killing himself in the process. No, no, that’s not quite right. Spending himself.
Shit. I needed to do more. There had to be a way to save him, checkmate the Others. I felt it then, thousands and thousands of years of kinship, love, and the tears fell. I choked, bawling. For a man I’d only met briefly. And incomprehensibly.
“Princess?” asked Mestamir, my new bodyguard, placing her hand around my shoulder. “Did you have a nightmare?”
Her touch angered me! I snapped my shoulders away, gave her a look like she was lowly, a centipede, get off me, but somehow stopped myself from brushing her hand off.
She backed up and stood, “I’m sorry, ma’am, sorry.”
Breathing in, out, in, brought myself back. Cayce, damnit, Cayce. A girl, not a god! Guilt flooded in for those I’d killed – so many – and now I belittled this person. Wiping my eyes, I shifted over to the edge of the bed, “No, sorry, I . . . didn’t mean that.”
“You said nothing, ma’am.”
“You saw, you know. For you were born a servant. I apologize.”
Body becoming rigid, Mestamir bowed her head briefly, “My lady.”
I rubbed my temples, trying to get whatever it is I was feeling to go away. “We are going for a walk.”
***
We walked to the terrace, up and down the stairs, stained as they were with algae. It was humid. Pleasant. Quiet, and not even the trees rustled. I touched them as I walked by. Some were rough, some were smooth, one closed its leaves at my fingertips. It was pleasant, roaming around, and I lost track of time.
On the way back, feeling a little hungry for early morning was ending and breakfast soon to begin – I could hear the distinct clatter of dishes and glasses and girls’ and women’s voices – we were stopped by a woman wearing a blue dress, in her thirties, darker skin than mine, high cheekbones, vibrant violet eyes, inky black hair. She was very, very pretty, and sported ten or so girls in a semicircle behind her, all wearing the same pure white dresses that went from neck to ankle, their best, happiest faces on display. Several long eyelashes blinked in my direction.
It made sense that Serce would steal her away for his harem to train these girls and my blood boiled at the thought. Of course, it was probably Otholos who appointed her, and I’d erased his body from existence. So, I shouldn’t be overly angry at Serce, but really, this was all his doing.
Hands together as if in supplication, she gave a head bow, saying, “Lady Cayce, if I may have a moment of your time.”
“Princess is the title you and Serce cannot take away from me, and I am your empress by blood.”
“I see,” She nodded. “I am Molana, etiquette teacher. I’ve come to fetch you for your training.”
My eyes narrowed of their own accord and not for her decided lack of honorifics. Training! “Not something I need, thank you. We are headed for breakfast.” A few girls gasped, their hands to their mouths.
“Your duty is to the emperor, and so you’ll manage your hunger in service to him.” Her head moved back upright, and she smiled her best, most pleasant apologetic smile, hands opening to show her helplessness in this matter.
Yeah, I was done being nice. It wasn’t enough they’d imprisoned me, they wanted to force me into a dutiful, subservient wife. No.
Putting my hand on her shoulder, I smiled back, and absolutely crushed the pressure points above her clavicle, she screamed and fell to the floor, and I followed her down, unrelenting, left leg in a crouch at the ready, I placed my right knee on her arm, putting me into a triangle position, back straight and on guard.
The ungasped girls joined the rest in their shock and dismay, teenage lungs releasing their collectively held in breaths, some saying, “You can’t!” and “Oh my!” with not a few, “Oh no!”
The woman, through clenched teeth, said, “I was ordered to-”
“That’s the problem. Serce has no authority over me and you . . . your time would be better spent elsewhere.”
“The emperor, he-”
Releasing her shoulder, I held my right finger up, waving across her face, “Ah, ah, ah. No more talking.” After patting her on the face twice, I stood up, leaving her on the ground, ignoring all the dainty, mortified students, and continued to the central room where the wonderful smells of fresh bread and cheese were coming from.
Nearing the end of the hallway, the bodyguard cleared her throat, then asked, “Ma’am, have you trained in the combat arts?”
Stopping, I looked her in the eyes with what I hoped was a flat, expressionless face, “Only a little. I’m sure you are much better than I am.”
“You’ve put me into conflict now. They will almost certainly send for the house guard to tame you. I cannot be against them, even to protect you.”
“Tame me?”
“Break your will, force you into those lessons. You should expect some punishment.”
Crossing my arms, I ran my tongue along the top of my front teeth. “Well. I may need a choke point to deal with the entirety of the palace guard.”
“Ma’am.”
“But first, breakfast.”
***
My younger cousin rushed over from the high table as I approached, loudly saying, “Cayce! You must sit with us, you must!”
Other women looked up, conversation quieting down, the eyes of all three tables on us, our conversation, on me, the newcomer and much worse, the declared wife. I tried to ignore them, “Sure. Sounds good. What is for, uh, morning tea?”
“We call it breakfast here.”
“Oh.” I held my breath to prevent myself from swearing. This is fine. This is normal. I wanted a weapon, maybe two. I wondered then if I really could take on the entire palace guard. Not if they cornered me. It’d have to be in a hallway or tight staircase or better yet, a long and very narrow bridge that arced up over a deep valley, a perfectly blue sky above, and the wind at my back.
“Cayce?”
“Breakfast. You call it that here. I’m still thinking this through.”
“I never understood why you southerners call it morning tea. You can’t eat tea and we break our fast after waking. What’s wrong with you people?”
“Not a question I can succinctly answer. Where are you sitting?”
“This way! Come!” Sorya took me by the hand, leading me over to where her older sister was sitting, waving at a seat between the two.
“Thank you.” I took it.
The older sister greeted me with, “Are you all finished with early morning training?”
“Entirely.”
“What did you go over?”
“The beauty of the greenhouse and the power of the word no.”
The young one cocked her head at me. “That’s unusual. New girls to the harem, especially those thought favored to become a wife-”
“-first wife no less,” said the elder girl.
“-receive a proper education in how to address the emperor, how to maintain his apartments, how to dress, what cutlery to-”
“Right. Since I’m absolutely and utterly not marrying Serce, I decided to forgo the proper education part of this imprisonment.”
Aleah’s voice turned cold, “But you are marrying him. We’ve heard the news. You are to be his only wife.”
“That’s not happening.”
“Cayce,” said the younger, “you have to convince Emperor Searcian to take us on as,” she looked at her older sister, “second and third wives.”
Picking up a bun, a butter knife, getting butter on it, I began spreading it across, taking a deep breath. “Please believe me when I say this, I am not marrying Serce. You two are welcome to him. I’m sure you’ll make him very happy.”
“Oh, I will!” The younger one beamed.
From my right side, Aleah said, “It’s worse when you refuse.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you truly don’t know, you’ll find out soon. How long, do you think, you’ll be able to refuse marriage?”
“Until Serce stops breathing.”
Sorya gasped prettily and covered her mouth. “That’s . . . that’s treason!”
She got narrowed eyes and a slight head tilt. “At the end of his natural life. I’m not going to help that along, though sometimes it is tempting, let me tell you.” I took a bite out of the now buttered bun. Not bad. Salted butter, freshly made bread, good combination. Harem food. Who knew?
“Listen,” began the older one, in a serious tone, “if you truly mean to be the emperor’s sole wife, that will certainly bring you the power you want. But-”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“But,” she set her hands on the table, “it will make you a target. The noble houses vie for power, and they will not allow you to be empress.”
Anger stirred up my spine. I counted to ten before calming down enough to get out, “Oh?” Still morning, probably too early to request wine. Or something stronger. If only I were through with this nonsense and back in Valhalla! Then, it’d be ale or mead, fighting, fighting, fighting, and the other myriad number of words that begin with F we do, including dinner.
Shaking my head, I wondered where those thoughts came from.
“Yes,” the young one continued, her voice scarcely above a whisper and several women at the table inclined forward, trying to hear, “they have been known to use the assassins. The Dragsmor assassins.”
Several of the nearby girls gasped, hands straight to cover up their mouths. One spilled a glass of orange juice, then rushed to clean it up. Aleah tsked.
It was all I could do to sit up straight and not sigh, scowl, grab her by the cheeks and threaten her. These people! “Once again, for the slow of mind, I do not want the goddamn throne.”
“You keep telling everyone you’re the empress.”
I found myself standing, chair clattering to the ground behind me, “That’s because I am by birth!”
Nearby ladies and girls recoiled, worried expressions across their faces.
“See?” said the younger one. “You’re announcing it to everyone what you plan to do. Of course they’re going to go after you!”
“Sit down!” seethed the older one, gesturing at the table and my unfinished breakfast. Then, shaking her head, she stood, looking at each of the women near us, “You lot! Leave us be. Go on!”
They scrambled away. Aleah picked up my chair, sliding it to touch my legs.
Looking right, then left, checking my surroundings I guess, I sat back down. Could I best one of those assassins? Morry said they were trained to resist pain. And they were very good. I’d only narrowly escaped being killed by one by blasting him into the ceiling with magic.
Sorya threw her hands up, her frustrated head shake sending locks of her dark hair bouncing around, “Just make a deal with him! Emperor Searcian! Cayce, we were set to become his wives, the noble lineages had agreed – now you’re here, it’s like you’re throwing a hornet’s nest into the empire!”
“Are you going to hire assassins to eliminate me?”
“Of course not!” said the older one.
“No, no, we’d much rather you accepted us. We’re all related, we shouldn’t be fighting over the position, we can share it. Besides, it’d make your life much easier! You wouldn’t need to run the palace yourself and we’d all share in-”
“I’m really not interested in what you’re about to say. And what do you mean by ‘rather’ there? You sound like a mob boss.”
“Cayce,” the older one said, “Princess of Nevarrelund, it’s true. But you’re here in Laemacia now, you are going to marry the emperor no matter your protests or displays of anger, and you do not have an army at your back. Or coming to rescue you.”
The younger one took my left hand in hers, “Being empress, first wife, is an enviable position, full of power. All these girls,” she waved across the room with her other hand, “would kill for it.”
Aleah continued, “And you’re not first wife yet. Your position is precarious and you are underestimating just how,” she gave a quick backwards nod of her head to my bodyguard standing behind us, “vulnerable you are right now.”
“So, you should really listen to us!” Sorya squeezed my hand to drive her point across, then spoke more softly, head down and eyes looking up into mine, “And insist that he take us on as wives, too.”
“Share the danger?”
The older one said, “To shore up your power.”
Ugh, being in a harem and being the center of attention in a harem, is the worst. I closed my eyes, thinking. A bunch of power holders vying for what I was given freely, no care that I don’t want it. I’m probably one more body in the way of whoever getting their daughter in as a wife and increasing their reach. Ergo, I had to get out of here soonest. I’d recheck the harem, see if there was any way out I missed. There had to be an exit! The messenger woman from the opposing army vanished after offering me something like help veiled in threats. Though I didn’t find a door earlier, I decided to go reexamine that area of the greenhouse after breakfast.
Or make a deal. It’d be nice if I knew who they were, the power holders. Opening my eyes, I gave in, “Alright. Teach me all about these noble houses. Who wants what? How powerful are they? And who is going to send assassins to ensure their spot in the throne room?”
Sorya was just about to speak when, from behind me, a young girl’s voice interrupted, “Excuse me, Princess Cayce?”
Letting go of the younger sister’s hand, I turned to face her. Under ten years old. Not likely an assassin. “Yes?”
“A missive for you, my lady.” Curtsying, she handed it over, then watched with wide eyes as I opened it.
Of course, the sisters moved closer, sitting up straight to read as I read. The note said, “Princess Cayce, we need to continue our conversation.” It was signed, “Tienseon.”
“Oh,” said the younger.
The older chimed in, “Ah.”
“What? What now?”
Sorya said, “That’s the old hag who put you in the most privileged dress, reserved for the emperor’s favorite.”
“She knew then.”
Aleah nodded, adding, “She represents a powerful house. I don’t think you should speak with her.”
That, in my mind, meant I should. “And why not?”
“Our blood and theirs have never . . . never had good relations. You cannot trust her or them.”
“I see.” Folding the note, I handed it back to the little girl. “Do you know where I can find this Tienseon?”
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