“No,” Anton said, more sharply than he meant to. “No,” he said again, more softly, and stroked her cheek. “Please don’t do that. We’ll manage somehow.” He still wasn’t sure what to think. On the one hand, he was unprepared to be a father; far too young, with life so uncertain. On the other, a thrill of joy ran through him, picturing Susanna holding his child in her arms.
“So it’s all right then?” She leaned into his hand.
“More than all right,” he said, surprised at how happy he was. “But maybe it’s best if we don’t change anything else right now. I’ll stay in the army, we’ll keep working together as long as you’re able and save as much money as we can. I imagine you’ll have to take time off when the baby comes.”
“A little, perhaps.” She was smiling now.
“And you know what else?” Anton grinned at her. “I’ve stopped drinking as of right now.” He wanted to be a good father and he’d need a clear head to manage it.
Teodora
The cart bumped down the road, much too slowly for Teodora’s liking. It took only a few hours to travel between Capo and Atlona on horseback, but Livilla wanted to move in secret, so Teodora had to ride in a farmer’s cart. Like a peasant. Livilla was right; she wouldn’t be recognized, sitting next to the farmer, the hood of her cloak pulled up in spite of the heat.
Livilla had insisted they return to Atlona before attempting to heal Daciana. “You will be very weak afterward,” she said, “if you survive the ritual.”
Teodora shuddered at those words, but there was no going back now, she’d decided.
“Before we start,” Livilla went on, “you’ll want to be certain of your succession, should the worst happen. I’m not saying you need to release Elektra, but she must be prepared to take over.”
That brought the gravity of the situation home. “She’s not ready,” Teodora said. “Not to mention I can’t trust her.”
“I’d still be regent for a time,” Livilla said. “She’ll listen to me.”
“I hope so, but I refuse to die. I know this is dangerous, but I will survive it, and so will Daciana.”
“I’m sure you will.” Livilla’s eyes were shadowed, and the skin of her face had sprouted a hundred wrinkles overnight, but her voice remained firm as ever. “I wouldn’t agree to do this if I weren’t sure of your survival. The gods have sent me dreams the past few nights, and I’m certain Vica will carry you through this. And that’s another reason to do it in the capital. I’ll have your doctor nearby, and you will have everything you need close at hand.”
Teodora couldn’t argue with that. She was sick and tired of the deprivation of living in the tiny Capo temple. What was the point of being empress if she couldn’t enjoy a few luxuries?
She’d worried about getting Daciana to agree to the move, but Livilla had a simpler solution. “I’ll put something in her porridge,” she said. “She’ll sleep for at least twelve hours; more than enough time to transport her, and prepare her for the ritual. If all goes as hoped, she’ll wake up already healed.”
They left Capo before dawn, and slow as the cart moved, still reached Atlona before noon. It was strange to enter her capital so anonymously. Teodora looked at the city with new eyes; the eyes of a commoner. Without being high up on horseback, or enclosed in a carriage, she saw the faces of her subjects as never before. Tired, cheerful, angry, preoccupied. She marveled at their variety and, for the first time in her life, wondered what all these people were thinking. She hoped they didn’t hate her too much, though she suspected they didn’t think much about her at all.
Two little boys ran alongside the cart, begging the farmer to throw them an apple. In her other life, Teodora would have whipped them for insolence if she hadn’t ignored them altogether, but this was different.
“I’ll pay for these,” she murmured to the farmer as she reached back into the wagon, and grabbed two apples from the barrel behind the seat. Daciana lay in the wagonbed, Livilla sitting next to her with barrels all around concealing them from the view of most.
Teodora tossed first one apple, then the other, to the boys. A lump rose in her throat when one of them doffed his cap, and the other blew her a kiss, shouting. “Thank you, pretty lady!” She couldn’t think she looked pretty to anyone anymore, but maybe the Scrolls were right, and acts of kindness transformed a person.
By the time they reached the Maxima’s palace, the wagon pulling around to the kitchen door, Teodora was trembling. She wondered what had come over her. It was as though she started changing from the moment she decided to do this, and was changing still. Perhaps she was to die soon, and the gods were offering brief moments of joy and clarity before taking her to them.
Teodora jumped down from the wagon unassisted, and pressed silver into the farmer’s hand. Livilla had already paid him handsomely, but Teodora wanted to do more. He looked down at the coins, puzzled. Then a broad grin transformed his plain face. “I thank you, my lady. May the gods bless you.”
Teodora smiled at him, unable to speak. Before entering the palace kitchen, she looked up at the sky, the clear, deep blue of late summer. It would be harvest soon, and Teodora offered a quick prayer that she would still be alive to enjoy its fruits. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she murmured to herself, stepping inside and waiting for Daciana to be carried in by two strong footmen. Livilla had already hurried ahead to receive any messages she might have missed while away.
Teodora looked down at Daciana’s face, walking alongside as they carried her down the corridor on a stretcher. In sleep, her face was soft and peaceful, almost girlish again, the scars barely visible in the shadows. Teodora clenched her fists at her sides. She would restore her friend to health if it was the last thing she did.
Once she’d seen Daciana safely placed in a pleasant bedchamber, Teodora sent for Sybila to watch over her and went in search of Livilla. They had to start soon if they were to complete the ritual before Daciana awoke.
Kendryk
In Mattila’s dusty study, Kendryk shifted in his chair. If he had to choose who was the more unpleasant, he’d consider it a dead tie between Teodora and her former general. He decided to do what he did best, and made sure his face was completely devoid of expression. His tone, when he spoke, was flat.
“What do you need to make clear before we go ahead?”
Mattila leaned forward, fixing her chilly eyes on his. Kendryk wanted badly to look away, but didn’t. “I have goals,” she said after a lengthy pause that was no doubt meant to make him squirm. “And I see no reason at all to ally myself with you unless you can help me meet those goals.”
“I see,” Kendryk said, and though he guessed what those goals were, he let her have her say.
“I want to be a Kronland ruler, with the same status as the rest of you. Unlike you, I plan to keep my kingdom.”
Kendryk raised an eyebrow. There was a limit to the insults he’d endure, and she was reaching it quickly. “I don’t see how I can help you gain legitimacy.” Not that he wanted to.
“You can’t.” Mattila smirked. “But if Lennart can defeat Teodora, then he can do it. All it takes is an imperial charter, if I’m not mistaken.”
“And hereditary rights. You must be descended from one of the original twelve families who received their charters from the first Olvisyan emperor.” There was no manufacturing that kind of status.
“Such snobbery.” Mattila shook her head. “My family is just as old and noble as yours.”
Kendryk didn’t agree, but said nothing and kept his face impassive.
“What if I married into one of those families?”
“I don’t know if that would work,” Kendryk admitted. “But aren’t you married already?”
“Yes.” Mattila shrugged. “Though I’m sure he’ll agree to a divorce if I make it worth his while. I haven’t seen him in four years, and unsurprisingly, haven’t missed him at all.”
Kendryk nearly said that he doubted her husband missed her either, but
bit his tongue at the last second. Angry as she made him, he was determined to stay on the high road as long as he could manage it.
“So that’s no great obstacle.” Mattila went on. “All that remains is for me to find a suitable person to marry, and I imagine there are enough unmarried younger sons of the ruling families running about. It’s only a matter of finding the one I like best.”
Kendryk couldn’t hold back a shudder, and Mattila didn’t miss that.
“You think I’d make a terrible wife?” She looked amused.
“I have no idea, and I don’t care to find out if you have well-hidden charms.” Just saying it made his skin crawl.
“Perhaps I do.” Mattila smiled.
To steer the conversation away from such an unsettling topic, Kendryk asked, “So you’d agree to ally with Lennart if he guarantees your right to rule Brandana after defeating Teodora?”
“Perhaps. I’d want to speak with him first.”
“He’s busy,” Kendryk said, ready for the conversation to be over, even if it meant the failure of his mission. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”
“Unless you can make the guarantee in writing on Lennart’s behalf, I’m afraid I can’t agree to help you. Tell him to come here if he’s serious.”
Kendryk stood up quickly. “He has more important things to do, I’m afraid.” He’d had enough, and could no longer keep from showing it. “What you’re asking is impossible, and you know it. Please forgive me for assuming you are not negotiating in good faith. I’ll take my leave.” Kendryk turned to Faris. “We have better ways we can spend our time.”
Faris jumped up. “I agree. Let’s go.”
Mattila rose more slowly and didn’t appear the least bit bothered. “I won’t keep you, but before you go, know this. If Lennart can’t grant my request by the time he engages with Ensden, I will not stay neutral.”
Kendryk whirled on her, angry now. “Are you saying you’d go back to Teodora?”
A smile quirked at Mattila’s lips. “If I must. If she’s desperate enough, I’m sure she’ll promise me anything.”
“Well, we’re not that desperate,” Kendryk said. “Far from it, in fact. But now I’ve spoken with you, I can assure you your request is unlikely to be granted by either Lennart or Teodora.” No more needed to be said, so Kendryk hurried out of the room.
Count Faris waited in the corridor. “That went about as well as expected,” he said. “I don’t understand why Lennart bothered sending you.”
“I think he might want to be rid of me,” Kendryk said, as they burst out the front door of the castle, servants scurrying before them, handing over hats and cloaks.
“I doubt that very much,” Faris said.
Kendryk had the distinct feeling he was patronizing him. “He won’t manage that so easily,” he said, wishing they’d hurry in bringing his horse.
“Back to Terragand then?”
“Not yet,” Kendryk said. “Since we’re in the neighborhood, I thought we’d go to Ummarvik. We can return to Terragand with Tora Isenberg and her army.” If his hunch about Lennart wanting to sideline him was correct, he’d make a better impression appearing at the head of a large force. “We’ll talk to Prince Dahlby as well. Maybe he’ll be willing to help.”
Teodora
Teodora found Livilla standing in the middle of her study, holding a sheet of paper.
“We should get started,” Teodora said. “Before I lose my nerve.”
“Elektra is gone,” Livilla said.
“What do you mean, gone?” Teodora had made certain there was no way for her to escape on her own, and everyone who came in direct contact with her had been thoroughly intimidated.
“Gone, as in escaped. Left the country in fact, a week ago already.”
“How? And why wasn’t I told?” Teodora snatched the paper from Livilla. It was from Solteszy, and addressed to Teodora at the Capo temple. “Why didn’t it reach me?”
“Hard to say.” Livilla shook her head. “There must have been some kind of mix-up.” She looked so blank and confused, Teodora banished the momentary suspicion that Livilla might have had something to do with it.
“I’ll find out.” Teodora snapped. “Someone will pay. But in the meantime, she must be stopped. Which way did she go?” She tried reading the note, but the letters blurred, hopefully not from tears.
“To Kronland, at the head of her regiment.” Livilla offered a thin smile. “It seems her officers had a hand in this, and got her out.”
“Why would they do such a difficult, not to mention treasonous, thing?” Teodora now shook with rage.
“She was on good terms with her officers. Several of them had considerable respect for her abilities.”
Teodora snorted. “Ridiculous. The girl has no idea what she’s doing.”
“Perhaps not. Although she learned a great deal from Mattila—”
“Shut up!” Teodora screeched. “Never speak that name again.” After the past few days of dredging up horrible memories, Teodora couldn’t bear to think of the woman. But that reminded her. “Oh gods.” She clutched at her head. “Daciana. We have to do something soon.”
Livilla shook her head, as if trying to wake herself up. “Yes we do. Elektra will have to wait until this is over.”
“But I need my heir here,” Teodora whispered, renewed fear washing over her. “What if—?”
Livilla took Teodora’s trembling hands in hers. “She won’t be needed, since you will survive this. But if something goes wrong, it’s no great matter to call her back. And your subjects will be more impressed if their new empress was busy heading an army, rather than confined to her room,” she added with a wry smile.
Teodora saw the sense in that, though she’d never admit it. She took a deep breath. “All right. Let’s do this thing.” No more distractions. “Then I’ll deal with my daughter.”
Now that it was time, she shook from head to toe as she followed Livilla back to the room where Daciana lay. Sybila was there already, and marched straight up to Livilla as they came in.
“Maxima, I must protest,” she said. “I cannot allow this to go forward. Little can be done for this young woman, and putting Her Highness at risk in the attempt is unacceptable.”
Livilla had sent word ahead to Teodora’s doctor, telling her a significant ritual was about to occur, though she hadn’t gone into detail.
“I understand you don’t approve,” Livilla said, gently pushing Sybila aside. “But Her Highness has decided.”
“Please.” Sybila turned pleading eyes on Teodora. “Please don’t do this.”
“It’ll be all right.” A strange calm washed over Teodora. “Just be here when I wake up, all right?”
Sybila nodded, though a tear ran down the side of her nose. Daciana might have been Teodora’s closest friend, but Sybila was one of her oldest. They’d known each other since they’d started at the Temple school together as girls of eleven.
Livilla had drawn the heavy curtains and lit a small lamp. She opened a little bag she’d brought from her study, and started putting things on the table. Teodora wondered what they were, but her eyes weren’t focusing.
“Please get undressed, my dear,” Livilla said, her voice gentle. “Crawl into bed beside Daciana, and pull the sheet over both of you. I will do the rest.”
Teodora did as she was told, hoping she wasn’t doing the wrong thing, maybe even an evil thing. Earlier, she had questioned Livilla about the ritual, but Livilla cut her short. “The less you know of this, the better. I’ll take full responsibility for what I bring forth.”
That sounded ominous, but Teodora was frightened of the look in Livilla’s eyes, and found she didn’t really want to know any more. Surely the gods wouldn’t condemn her for being involved in something she didn’t fully understand? She didn’t worry about Livilla, for the gods had given her knowledge beyond all others, except perhaps the Imperata. Surely she wouldn’t know how to do things the gods didn’t approve of?
Livilla’s face appeared over her, almost impossible to make out in the dim light. “Take a bite of this, my child,” she said, “and don’t worry about a thing.”
Teodora bit down on something soft and bitter. It tasted terrible as it dissolved in her mouth, leaving an acrid film on her tongue. Even as she grimaced against the awful flavor, her body loosened and sank into the mattress.
Livilla chanted something, sounding very far away, and smoke swirled above Teodora’s head. She tried to follow it with her eyes, but couldn’t keep them open. She tried to remind herself to be afraid, and gripped Daciana’s hand even tighter. But she felt only peace, even as a cold blade sliced along her arm, and blood gushed out of it like a fountain. Almost asleep, Teodora smiled. She had life enough to spare, enough to give a friend.
Lennart
Though Lennart had much to occupy his mind, the knowledge that Raysa’s time had already passed was a constant worry. It would take at least a week for a message to reach him, but even allowing for that, it was still much too late. A small, fast ship waited in Tharvik harbor to run across the sea, depositing a messenger who’d come overland to Heidenhof. If she’d had the baby when the doctor said she would, and all had gone well, Lennart should have heard by now.
Lennart sat at a table in the little study adjoining his bedchamber, a large bottle of liquor at his elbow. Drinking too much wouldn’t improve matters, but it seemed to be the only way to loosen the tightness in his chest, if only temporarily. He’d completed his duties for the day, spoken to everyone who wanted to see him; he’d earned a respite.
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 130