It felt like a dangerous thing to say, as though she had handed him a dagger to wound her with. But her apprehension was smoothed away as Sergevni dropped kisses as soft as raindrops over her nose, her cheeks, her lips.
“Then come back to me. Save your captain. Save Arkavik. Do what you must. But when you are done, come back to me.”
Two tears rolled down her cheeks but she smiled.
“Will you miss me when I am gone?”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and holding her close.
“I will miss you terribly, Adrienna. I will miss your sharp tongue and indomitable spirit. I will miss the shape of your lips and the blue of your eyes. I will miss training you, fighting you and adoring you. I will miss having you in my arms and in my bed. I will miss you painfully.”
She lowered her mouth to his, kissing him sweetly, deeply, hungrily.
“I will miss you too, Sergevni.”
“Then hurry back, my wife.”
He lowered her back onto the floor, staring at her earnestly.
“Come back to me safe and happy, Adrienna. Come back to me when your mission is complete and when you are ready. But come back to me.”
“How could I not?” she said with a crooked smile. “I’ve a kingdom to rule, have I not?”
“Yes,” he murmured. “And besides, you owe me a wedding night.”
After that, there was little time left. The horses were saddled and ready, and Byram awaited along with a group of Karschan soldiers in the courtyard. The fleet was ready for them at the closest port, only a few hours’ ride away. They would journey from there to the shores of Arkavik, where they would meet with Aster.
Once the party was mounted and ready, Sergevni stood by Adrienna’s horse, looking up at her. The moonlight shone palely, making his face seem carved from opals. He smiled ruefully.
“Do not be overly bold and troublesome, Adrienna,” he said.
“No,” she replied lightly. “I will be courteous and obliging.”
“Do not start fights you cannot win.”
“No, indeed — I will save all my belligerence for you, my husband.”
He grinned, but his smile was tinged with fear and melancholy.
“Farewell, Adrienna.”
“Farewell, my Sergevni.”
And then, they were riding forth from the courtyard. Byram rode at Adrienna’s side, the soldiers circling them in a precise and unwavering formation. Adrienna did not look back. Parting with Sergevni hurt her heart — but her heart would never be whole until Aster was safe and happy. And so she set off for Arkavik, to save the woman who had once been her own saviour.
12. Heart
Three days after Adrienna left, Sergevni’s father announced his abdication. In a magnificent assembly of Karschan nobility and foreign dignitaries, he announced gravely that he was resigning his crown.
“I have ruled Karscha for fifty long years. I defended its borders and pushed them further than ever before, extending our great empire. Now, our land is the most powerful and prosperous in Westmere. Our army is undefeated, a military force capable of bringing any nation to its knees. With Karscha at the very apex of its power, I wish to pronounce my son and heir as the new emperor of Karscha.”
Sergevni stood by his father’s throne. He had dressed in his black scaled armour, for he would retain his role as the commander of Karscha’s army. But a cloak trimmed with pale fur was draped over his shoulder, the long train falling over the steps of the dais upon which he stood. At his side, his father was reaching for his crown, lifting it from his head.
A red line circled his brow, the bruise left by decades of wearing the heavy crown. Sergevni wondered if the mark of his father’s reign would ever fade from the old man’s skin. He had worn the crown for so long that he seemed different without it: small and vulnerable. But he turned to face Sergevni, lifting the crown up, and there was a strange relief in his eyes.
He placed the crown over Sergevni’s head and breathed a long sigh.
“All Hail His Imperial Majesty Sergevni, the emperor of Karscha.”
Then he stepped away, and Sergevni was confronted with the crowd of kneeling noblemen clamouring his name. His new title had the semblance of a foreign language to his ear, as though they spoke words he could not quite understand. He watched them without expression, the crown a crushing weight upon his forehead. Would he, too, one day bear the same red bruise about his head as his father?
The days following his coronation were long and tortuous. Sergevni felt Adrienna’s absence more keenly than ever. Travelling with his retinue from city to city, greeting noble households and adoring citizens, he felt as though he wore a mask of himself. The mask of emperor was benevolent and distant, present yet remote. Adrienna would have made a perfect empress at his side, her strength would have inspired his.
The inaugural tour of Karscha lasted several weeks — longer than Sergevni had intended or hoped. But his people were good, and hard-working, and meeting them was an enlightening experience. Sevalensk had too long been the isolated seat of power in Karscha. This would need to change. Karscha was too vast. It needed a ruler who was present, a ruler they could see and reach and rely on. And they would get such a ruler.
They would get two rulers. A soldier emperor and an empress who had been willing to risk her life for her own guard.
On the way home to Sevalensk, Sergevni was riding side by side with Althius. The Veritian warrior had remained in Karscha, tasked with assembling and training a new Queensguard for Adrienna. But Sergevni had asked him along on his journey, for the grizzled warrior was an excellent travelling companion: hardy, knowledgeable, and always in excellent spirits.
“What do you make of Karscha, Althius?” Sergevni asked.
They had been riding through white expanses of tundra for the majority of the day. Now dusk began to incarnadine the sky low in the horizon. Althius observed their surroundings: the snow, the sedges encased in sparkling frost, the red and grey lichen, the pale fortress of mountains silhouetted against the sky.
“It is a vast and beautiful land, to be sure,” the warrior said. “But it is mighty cold!”
Sergevni laughed.
“Adrienna made the same complaint to me when we first travelled into Karscha.”
“Well, when she returns from Arkavik,” said Althius with a smirk, “Karscha’s winter will seem like spring to her.”
Sergevni looked away. In the distance, the setting sun had smeared a crimson trail across the sky.
“If she returns,” he said morosely. “She might not wish to return, Althius.”
He did not see the warrior’s reaction, but his scoff made it clear enough.
“Oh — she will return, Emperor Sergevni. You may doubt anything in this world, but this you never need doubt. She will return.”
Sergevni paused, then spoke out the thought that had troubling him ever since she had left.
“She might prefer to stay with her captain.”
Althius sighed.
“Adrienna loves Aster. In her heart, she believes Aster to be her sister. But Aster… Aster has nothing in this world. Adrienna is everything to her. And as long as Aster protects Adrienna, she will never live for herself. And I think… I think Adrienna knows this. I think it is the very reason she so desperately longed to save her. Not to keep her at her side. But to repay her loyalty.”
Sergevni watched Althius closely; it seemed to him as though Althius had Adrienna’s measure right.
“But Adrienna’s destiny does not lie at Aster’s side,” Althius said with odd gentleness. “It lies at yours.”
“Are you so sure of it?” asked Sergevni.
A lancing pain was in his chest, a soaring longing. He desperately yearned for his wife’s return — but he could not allow himself to quite believe in it.
“I am certain,” Althius’s lined face shifted, lit by a knowing smile. “The princess herself told me so before she married you.”
After this, Sergevni said no more and they journeyed on in affable silence.
When he returned to Sevalensk, there was much to do. He had his government to organise, tasks to delegate, endless reports to listen to. He had to dine with dukes and ambassadors, pay visits to important families, preside over disputes and administer judgements. He barely had time to look to his own training, forced to practise his drills late into the night before going to sleep, or before dawn when all of Sevalensk still slumbered.
Once he finally allowed himself to lie in bed each night, he found that no matter how exhausted he was, sleep evaded him. He tossed and turned amid his sheets, resenting the coldness of them, the emptiness of it. He was an emperor and a husband now — it was not proper that his bed should be empty.
Often he imagined what it would be like to have Adrienna back. To spend each night with her face pressed to his shoulder and her arm and leg curled possessively over him. To awaken with the smell of her perfume and body filling his senses, and to pull her closer, to settle his body between her legs and take her with unhurried luxury. To kiss her mouth lasciviously, to wallow in the deliciousness of her.
And in the days, once he went about each new duty, he thought of her still. She would be invaluable at his side. Already, he anticipated being able to ask for her advice and her assistance. In his own failings, he saw all the ways in which she was accomplished. Even when she was absent, her influence was still felt, the web she had weaved within the court an ephemeral shield around him.
The Marquess of Grigarski, like a master of puppets, maintained the court for him in her own way, ridding him of the most perfidious courtiers, entertaining foreign dignitaries whilst he was too busy to do so. Count Drazhan, a man Sergevni had often dismissed as frivolous and superficial, kept an indispensable network of spies. Sergevni had been shocked to receive reports from them, signed by Count Drazhan, with the note “As promised, my wedding gift to my dear empress.” It was a flirtatious note, yet Drazhan’s loyalties were clear. Like many courtiers around him, Adrienna had earned from him a profound devotion that Sergevni could never have hoped to earn.
Almost a month after his wedding, Sergevni sat in his study. It was late into the night, the sky outside black as pitch and pierced with distant stars. A low fire burned in the fireplace, lanterns scattered over tables and dangling on sconces. In the wavering light, Sergevni leaned over his desk, pouring over ledgers. It was a dull task, but he had always thought his father too trustful of his treasurers. Ridding Sevalensk of traitors and dissimulators would be his first great achievement.
The door opened and closed with a quiet sound. Doubtless, a page had brought him some tea or spiced wine for his vigil.
Then, the fragrance of roses and perfume drifted over him like a mist, and he sat up. His heart stilled as though encased in frost.
“You’ve returned,” he said coolly.
“Yes,” Adrienna’s voice, amusement curling about each syllable, slid from out the darkness. “I was told you were not to be disturbed, but I hoped you might deign to receive the queen of Karscha.”
Sergevni smirked and pushed back his seat.
“The empress of Karscha. Yes, I might very well deign to receive her.”
Adrienna, who had been calmly removing her mantle, threw it over the back of a chair and walked towards him. Standing in front of him, she leaned back against his desk, gazing down at his face.
She was changed, and yet exactly as he remembered her. Her blue eyes were sparkling with mirth, her pretty mouth curled at one corner with a playful smirk. Her hair had grown slightly longer, hanging in silken curls against her pale neck. She wore a plain travelling gown of azure velvet. The austerity of the high collar and long sleeves somehow only made the curves of her body appear more voluptuous than ever.
But more voluptuous than anything else was her expression. More luminous than starlight, she had lost the melancholy and dread that had once haunted her. Instead, a new look of contentment inhabited her pretty features. She was unpainted and unadorned, with her hair loose about her head and her plain dress. And yet she was more beautiful than she had ever been.
“Is your captain saved?” he asked lightly.
“She is saved and satiated,” Adrienna said with a wicked smile. “Her husband may be a barbarian and an abductor of women, but I think he pleases her greatly. She is happy.”
“Then you achieved what you set out to do.” Sergevni paused, then leaned forward. Placing his hands upon Adrienna’s waist, he pulled her away from his desk and closer to him. “And you, Adrienna? Are you happy now?”
She sighed, running a hand tenderly through his hair. He closed his eyes, her touch sending a wave of relief shuddering through him. She traced the outline of his cheek and jaw, sliding a finger beneath his chin to tilt it up towards her.
“No, I am not.”
“Oh?” he pulled her towards him, setting her over his lap so he could face her properly. “Why not? What ails the empress of Karscha?”
“The empress of Karscha was deprived of her wedding night,” she said, a beseeching look in her beautiful eyes.
“Then it is her husband’s duty to atone for this terrible sin,” Sergevni murmured.
He brushed his lips against hers, his hands reaching for the hem of her dress, pulling it up. His palm found the flesh of her thigh where it was exposed above her stocking, and her mouth opened in a small gasp against his. It was only then that he kissed her, delving into the sweet taste of her mouth, his lips slow and lingering over hers, his tongue sliding against hers.
She moaned softly into the kiss, her fingers buried in his hair. His hands continued their sensual journey up her legs, finding the delicate shift that covered the sweetness between her legs. Pushing the fabric aside, he slipped bold fingers against her, seeking her apex. There, he found molten wetness, slick and hot, awaiting his touch. He groaned against her mouth, but she pulled away from him as his fingers delved inside her. A long whimper escaped her as her head fell back, her hips moving against him.
Sergevni had grown so desperately aroused he feared he might die. Too long he had awaited this moment, too long he had yearned for his wife, her body and her mouth and her beseeching eyes. He could no longer withstand the torment of being parted from her. He needed to be close to her, as close as they could be.
With one hand he scrambled at his waist, unbuckling his belt and opening his trousers. His eager cock sprung forth, and Adrienna gasped, her eyes widening.
“We should — should we not go to your bedchamber?”
Picking her up with one arm, Sergevni gently lowered her down over his desk.
“Adrienna, since you left I have spent every day in torment, fearing you might never return. I have longed for you every moment that passed. If you make me wait any longer, I will perish or else devour you like a wolf does a lamb.”
Her cheeks were flushed, yet naked pleasure was in her eyes, set ablaze by his words. He leaned down, pushing up her skirts, revealing her legs, with their black stockings and the ribbon of pale flesh where her thighs were exposed. His blood pounded through his veins like the beating of war-drums at the sight, making him stiffen painfully.
Grabbing her legs, he pulled her to him, aligning his hips against hers. Her thighs wrapped around him, holding him close. He placed himself at her entrance, pausing to catch a steeling breath. Her hand touched his chest, staying him.
“Sergevni, what about your ledgers, your reports?” she gasped.
“Damn the ledgers and reports,” he ground out. “Damn anything that stands between you and me.”
And then he thrust himself inside her, burying himself to the hilt. A cry tore from her lips, matched by his groan of satisfaction. He braced himself against the desk, motionless as he savoured the exquisite sensation of being inside her once more. Looking down, he saw that she was staring up at him with wide eyes, her mouth open, her throat palpitating. A frown of frustrated desire darkened her face, and her hips twitched against
his, prompting him to move.
A slow, hungry smile stretched Sergevni’s lips. His wife had been longing for this moment as much as he had. Obeying the imperious writhing of her hips, he moved back and forth, pulling out slowly before thrusting hard. Each time his hips met hers he drew from her a strangled cry of pleasure. Soon the room filled with the music of her moans, the sound unleashing Sergevni’s restraint. He drove into her with devastating strength, her back arching like a bow, her head thrown back.
The sight of Adrienna’s pleasure was enough to drive Sergevni wild with unbridled lust. Grabbing her buttocks, he angled her against him, pinning her hips into place as he fucked her with the despair of a ravenous wolf. Each stroke grew more powerful, more erratic as he felt his pleasure build to a crescendo.
“Saints, Sergevni, please—”
Beneath him, Adrienna was moaning incoherently, her legs twitching, her breath hissing through her throat. Then a strangled cry burst from her lips and her hips bucked uncontrollably as she was caught in the claws of a brutal pleasure. Sergevni felt her tighten around his cock, her sheath pulsing, the sensation a torture of ecstasy.
“I love you,” Adrienna breathed, her thighs suddenly limp, her eyes glittering darkly. “I love you, Sergevni of Karscha.”
Sergevni of Karscha came with a hoarse cry. He collapsed over Adrienna, gathering her to him as he buried himself into her, spilling his seed deep inside. They lay, clutching one another, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, their bodies still connected in the most intimate of ways.
“I love you too,” he murmured, “Adrienna of Karscha.”
The temptation to remain on the desk and fall asleep there was almost invincible. But eventually, Sergevni untangled himself from Adrienna, pulling his trousers back on and buckling his belt. Adrienna watched him with a beatific smile as he straightened her skirts. She lolled on the desk, listless with exhaustion and satisfaction. She was in no condition to walk. So Sergevni scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to his bedchamber.
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