Rise Of Empire (43 page)

“Yes,” she said. “I’m not even going to be on the line and I’m terrified.”

“Would you think me a miserable coward if I said I was frightened too?”

“I would think you a fool if you weren’t.”

He sighed and let his head rest on his knees.

“What is it?”

“If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it a secret?” he asked, keeping his head down.

“I’m an ambassador. I do that sort of thing for a living.”

“I’ve never fought in a battle before. I’ve never killed a man.”

“I suspect that is the case for nearly everyone fighting tomorrow,” she said, hoping he would assume she included herself in that statement. She could not bear to tell him the truth. “I don’t think most of these people have ever used a sword.”

“Some have.” He lifted his head. “Adam fought with Ethelred’s army against the Ghazel when Lord Rufus won his fame. Renkin Pool and Forrest, the silversmith’s son, also fought. That’s why I have them as leaders in the line. The thing is, everyone is looking to me like I’m a great war hero, but I don’t know if I’ll stand and fight or run like a coward. I might faint dead away at the first sight of blood.”

Arista reached out, taking his hand in hers. “If there is one thing I’m certain of”—she looked directly into his eyes—“it’s that you’ll stand and fight bravely. I honestly don’t think you could do anything else. It just seems to be the way you’re made. I think your innate courage is what everyone sees and why they look up to you—like I do.”

Emery bowed his head. “Thank you, that was very kind.”

“I wasn’t being kind, just honest.” Suddenly feeling awkward, she released his hand and asked him, “How is your back?”

“It still hurts,” he said, raising his arm to test it. “But I’ll be able to swing a sword. I really should let you get to sleep.” He scrambled off the bed.

“It was nice that you came,” she told him, and meant it.

He paused. “I’ll only have one regret tomorrow.”

“And what is that?”

“That I’m not noble.”

She gave him a curious look.

“If I were even a lowly baron and survived the battle, I would ride to Melengar and ask your brother for your hand. I would pester him until he either locked me up or surrendered you. I know that is improper. I know you must have dukes and princes vying for your affections, but I would try just the same. I would fight them for you. I would do anything … if only.”

Arista felt her face flush and fought an urge to cover it with her hands. “You know, a common man whose father died in the service of his king, who was so bold as to take Ratibor and Aquesta, could find himself knighted for such heroics. As ambassador, I would point out to my brother that such an act would do well for our relationship with Rhenydd.”

Emery’s eyes brightened. They had never looked so vibrant or so deep. There was joy on his face. He took a step back toward the bed, paused, then slowly withdrew.

“Well, then,” Emery said at last, “I shall need my sleep if I’m to be knighted.”

“You shall indeed,
Sir
Emery.”

“My lady,” he said, and attempted a sweeping bow but halted partway with a wince and a gritting of his teeth. “Good night.”

After he had left her room, Arista discovered her heart was pounding, her palms moist. How shameful. In a matter of hours, men would die because of her. By noon, she could be hanging from a post, yet she was flushed with excitement because a man showed an interest in her. How horribly childish … how infantile … how selfish … and how wonderful. No
one had ever looked at her the way he just had. She remembered how his hand felt and the rustle of his toes on her bed covers—what awful timing she had.

She lay in bed and prayed to Maribor that all would be well. They needed a miracle, and immediately she thought of Hadrian and Royce. Isn’t that what Alric always called them … his miracle workers? Everything would be all right.

A
milia sat biting her thumbnail, or what little was left of it. “Well?” she asked Nimbus. “What do you think? She seems stiff to me.”

“Stiff is good,” the thin man replied. “People of high station are known to be reserved and inflexible. It lends an air of strength to her. It is her chin that bothers me. The board in her corset fixed her back, but her chin—it keeps drooping. She needs to keep her head up. We should put a high collar on her dress, something stiff.”

“A little late for that now,” Amilia replied, irritated. “The ceremony is in less than an hour.”

“A lot can be done in that time, Your Ladyship,” he assured her.

Amilia still found it awkward, even embarrassing, to be referred to as “Your Ladyship” or “my lady.” Nimbus, who had always followed proper protocol, insisted on referring to her formally. His mannerisms rubbed off on the other members of the castle staff. Maids and pages, who only months earlier had laughed and made fun of Amilia, took to bowing and curtsying to her. Even Ibis Thinly had begun addressing Amilia as
Her Ladyship.
The attention was flattering, but it
could also be fleeting. Amilia was a noble in name only. She could lose her title just as easily as it had been won—and that was exactly what would happen in less than an hour.

“All right, wait outside,” she ordered. “I’ll hand you the dress to take to the seamstress. Your Eminence, can I please have the gown?”

Modina raised her arms as if in a trance and two handmaidens immediately went to work undoing the numerous buttons and hooks.

Amilia’s stomach churned. She had done everything possible in the time allotted. Modina had been surprisingly cooperative and easily memorized and repeated the speech Saldur had provided, which was mercifully short and easy to remember. Modina’s role was remarkably simple. She would step onto the balcony, recite the words, and withdraw. The whole process would only take a few minutes, yet Amilia was certain of an impending disaster.

Despite all the preparations, Modina simply was not ready. The empress had only recently showed signs of lucidity and managed to follow directions, but no more than that. In many ways, she reminded Amilia of a dog. Trained to sit and stay, a pup would do as it was told when the master was around, but how many could maintain their composure when left on their own? A squirrel passing by would break their discipline and off they would go. Amilia was not permitted on the balcony, and if anything unexpected happened, there was no telling how the empress would react.

Amilia took the elaborate gown to Nimbus. “Make it quick. I don’t want to be here with an empress clad only in her undergarments when the bell strikes.”

“I will run like the wind, my lady,” he said with a forced smile.

“What are you doing out here?” Regent Saldur asked.

Nimbus made a hasty bow, then ran off with the empress’s gown.

The regent was lavishly dressed for the occasion, which made him even more intimidating than usual. “Why aren’t you in with the empress? There is less than an hour before the presentation.”

“Yes, Your Grace, but there are some last-minute prep—”

Saldur took her angrily by the arm and dragged her inside the staging room. Modina was wrapped in a robe and the two handmaidens fussed with her hair. They both stopped abruptly and curtsied. Saldur took no notice.

“Must I waste my time impressing on you the importance of this day?” he said while roughly releasing her. “Outside this palace, all of Aquesta is gathering, as well as dignitaries from all over Warric and even ambassadors from as far away as Trent and Calis. It’s paramount that they see a strong, competent empress. Has she learned the speech?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Amilia replied with a bowed head.

Saldur examined the empress in her disheveled robe and unfinished hair. He scowled and whirled on Amilia. “If you ruin this—if she falters—I’ll hold you personally responsible. A single word from me and you’ll never be seen again. Given your background, I won’t even have to create an excuse. No one will question your disappearance. No one will even notice you’re gone. Fail me, Amilia, and I’ll see you deeply regret it.”

He left, slamming the door behind him and leaving Amilia barely able to breathe.

“Your Ladyship?” the maid Anna addressed her.

“What is it?” she asked weakly.

“It’s her shoe, milady. The heel has come loose.”

What else could go wrong?

On any ordinary day, nothing like this would happen, but
that day, because her life depended on it, problems followed one upon another. “Get it to the cobbler at once and tell him if it isn’t fixed in twenty minutes, I’ll—I’ll—”

“I will tell him to hurry, milady.” Anna ran from the room, shoe in hand.

Amilia began to pace. The room was only twenty feet long, causing her to turn frequently, which made her dizzy, but she continued it anyway. Her body was reacting unconsciously while her mind flew over every aspect of the ceremony.

What if she leaps off the balcony?

The thought hit her like a slap. As absurd as it seemed, it was possible. The empress was not of sound mind. With the noise and confusion of thousands of excited subjects, Modina could become overwhelmed and simply snap. The balcony was not terribly high, only thirty feet or so. The fall might not kill the empress if she landed well. Amilia, on the other hand, would not survive the incident.

Sweat broke out on her brow as her pacing quickened.

There was no time to put up a higher rail.

Perhaps a net at the bottom? No, that won’t help.

The problem was not the injury. It was the spectacle.

A rope?

She could tie a length around Modina’s waist and hold it from behind. That way if she made any forward movement, Amilia could stop her.

Nimbus returned, timidly peeking into the room. “What is it, my lady?” he asked, seeing her expression.

“Hmm? Oh, everything. I need a rope and a shoe—but never mind that. What about the dress?”

“The seamstress is working as fast as she can. Unfortunately, I don’t think there will be time for a test dressing.”

“What if it doesn’t fit? What if it chokes her so she can’t even speak?”

“We must think positively, my lady.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Your life isn’t dangling by a thread—perhaps literally.”

“But surely, Your Ladyship, you cannot fear such repercussions merely from a dress alteration? We are civilized people, after all.”

“I’m not certain what civilization you’re from, Nimbus, but this one can be harsh to those who fail.”

Amilia looked at Modina, sitting quietly, oblivious to the importance of the speech she was about to give. They would do nothing to her. She was the empress and the whole world knew it. If she disappeared, there would be an inquiry and the people would demand justice for the loss of their god-queen. Even people as well placed as Saldur could hang for such a crime.

“Shall I bring the headdress?” Nimbus asked.

“Yes, please. Anna fetched it from the milliner’s this morning and likely left it in the empress’s bedroom.”

“And how about I bring a bite for you to eat, my lady? You haven’t had anything all day.”

“I can’t eat.”

“As you wish. I will be back as soon as I can.”

Amilia went to the window. From this vantage point, she could just see the east gate, through which scores of people poured. Men, women, and children of all classes entered the outer portcullis. The gathering throng emitted a low murmur, like some gigantic beast growling just out of sight. There was a knock at the door and in stepped the seamstress with the gown in her arms as if it were a newborn baby.

“That was fast,” Amilia said.

“Forgive me, Your Ladyship, it’s not quite done, but the royal tutor just stopped by and said I should finish up here, where I can size it to Her Eminence’s neck. It’s not how things
are done, you see. It’s not right to make the great lady sit and wait on me like some dress dummy. Still, the tutor said if I didn’t do as he said, then he—” She paused and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He said he’d have me horsewhipped.”