Now that she knew the magnitude of the problem dumped into her lap, Bithia wanted to wrench off her dress, fling her symbolic crown to the ground and return to the peaceful world of Beserrah.
As she considered the garish display around her again, she felt an aching sadness for them. They had no idea that all of this, the pageantry, the parade of obscene wealth, would all crumble to dust within nine days unless Bithia found a way to save their way of life. When that happened, they would not blame Ambo, but her. As much as she wished to run, she would not take a coward’s way out. She would stay and fight for her empire. The only problem was she had no idea what to do.
Kasmiri placed her hand gently over Bithia’s. “If there is anything I or my bondmate can do, you know we are at your loyal service.”
“I thank you.” After a squeeze, she let go. “Just telling you has lifted part of my burden, but I am sorry such has weighed you down.” Bithia glanced to her belly. “When you are already so fully burdened.”
Rubbing her belly, Kasmiri, said, “Do not worry over me, Bithia. Better to know and plan than be oblivious.”
“Yes. But—”
“I will keep this to myself and my bondmate. I will tell my father nothing.”
Bithia sighed. With a slight nod, she silently thanked her for her discretion. “Please, do try to enjoy the rest of the evening.” She didn’t add that tonight might very well be the last good time Diola would ever see.
Kasmiri left her then, her stride amazingly smooth despite her ponderous belly. All at once Bithia envied her and feared for her. Too much responsibility crushed her. Telling her sister had helped, as had telling her loves, but telling did not solve the problem.
Her gaze sought out Drahka and Viltori. Just as she glanced over, Viltori set an empty glass on the table next to him, grabbed another drink, and tossed the liquid back. Why was he drinking so heavily? Was it the news of imminent collapse? But there had been good news too. Although, that was probably meaningless to him now. If there was no empire, what did it matter that they could now all be together in full of the Harvest prophecy?
“They seem quite engaged with one another.”
Bithia turned. Beside her stood an elderly man, dressed in bronze, with a shockingly dark and thick brown mane. The richness of his hair contrasted sharply with his melted features. Deep-set eyes, a flattened nose, drooping lips; he seemed as if at one time he’d been very large, then suddenly lost most of his weight. And his height. The top of his head barely came up to her shoulder. After sipping his drink, he gestured to Drahka and Viltori.
“I have never seen two men so enamored of one another.” His voice was casual, but the meaning behind his pointed words was not. Whoever this man was, he did not approve of their relationship. “It seems to me a woman would be most unnecessary to men like that. Unless they were using the woman for some gain.” On the verge of calling for her guards, Bithia hesitated when the man lowered his voice to whisper, “I know what your mother did. And I know why. But I know something you don’t know.”
Swirling the red liquid in her cup with a gentle motion of her arm, Bithia dared to ask, “And what do you think you know? Make it good, old man, or I will have you put to the stone like Ambo.”
At that, he smiled, displaying amazingly straight and white teeth. In the next breath, the smile fell, as if it just couldn’t bear to lift the slack skin of his face. “Ambo was a fool. He took all those funds from your mother and wasted them on his lusts. Food and women and perversions.” The man shook his head, disapproval etching deep brackets around his mouth. From the way the lines settled, Bithia determined this man often cast his face in censure. “But what is worse is your mother’s stupidity.”
As furious as Bithia was with her mother, she wouldn’t allow anyone to denigrate her. “Speak of my mother that way again—”
“And I’ll be executed. Yes, my lady.” He bowed without conveying any respect. “I heard your threat the first time, but I do not fear it.” He paused and daintily sipped his drink as if it were the last liquid in all the land and he would make it last. If Ambo had been a glutton, this man was the opposite. “You will not kill me, not when my death would expose so many of your secrets.”
Bithia took and held a deep breath. After slowly releasing the air between tight lips, she glanced at Viltori and Drahka, still deep in conversation, and then turned her attention to— “What was your name?”
“Eld, my lady. I am the overseer.” A sneer wrinkled up the flesh of his face around his nose. “Everything you see, I control.” He lifted his hand to the great hall. “I am responsible for the servants who cook, clean and decorate your pompous palace.”
With every breath, he insulted her. In the back of her mind lurked a perverse joy that he would soon find himself the master of nothing. “You try my patience. Either say what you will or depart.”
Glaring up at her, Eld shook his head. “Your mother never wanted you.”
“My mother didn’t even know I existed.” Despite knowing that his accusation was false, it still hurt the child inside, the young woman convinced her parents didn’t love her, the wide-eyed innocent who had always felt second best.
“Not at first, but eventually she did.”
Eld played a dangerous game. Should she choose to do so, Bithia could have him taken into custody, questioned in detail, and then executed. However, Eld wasn’t a fool. He must have something planned for that very occurrence. Biding her time, Bithia suffered his insolence and listened to his accusations.
“How would you know anything about what my mother knew?”
“Because I’m the one who told her.”
Bithia’s heart skipped a beat. “And how would you know?”
Angling his face up, Eld grinned in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “I’m the one who created you.”
Clutching her drink in her fist, Bithia forgot to breathe for several moments. Shocked, she simply stared. Trapped in his gaze, she realized his eyes were gray, like storm clouds gathering. His eyes were the color of the ominous winter clouds that gathered over the Onic Mountains and they carried all the threat of a violent storm.
“The difficult part was finding a woman to carry you. One who could keep her mouth shut.” Smugly he sipped his drink. “Death is a remarkable silencer. And no one missed one worthless slave.” He cast his gaze around the gathering that grew louder as the night wore on and the drinks flowed more freely. “What do you think they would make of an empress birthed by a lowly servant?” He laughed without mirth. “Moreover, what would they make of a ruler without funds?”
Bithia couldn’t find her voice. She didn’t doubt his words for a moment, not with his insufferable self-satisfaction. If she asked, he would provide proof, but doing so would only rub salt into her freshly wounded heart.
“But do you know what’s really sad?”
She didn’t, and she didn’t want him to enlighten her, either. But as she tried to move away, she found she couldn’t. No matter how horrible the information, there was a part of her that simply had to know the truth. Regardless of how awful that knowledge was, she had to learn the secret to her existence.
“Your mother knew about you and still she did not want you.”
His words hit like a physical blow. Bithia literally slumped forward and almost spilled her drink. Determinedly she stood upright, casting her gaze surreptitiously about to confirm none had witnessed her momentary lapse of control. Sweet, merciful Datanna but the elite were too far gone into their own revelry to notice her.
“I’ve always wanted to be the magistrate. Watching that power wasted on Ambo grated my sensibilities. Therefore, when your mother came to power, I decided to create some leverage, for as you know, the eldest daughter is the one who ascends to the throne. So I made you. That way, no matter how many children your mother had, I would have the eldest.”
He spoke as if what he had done were the most clever scheme and perfectly normal. Bithia literally felt sick to her s
tomach.
“But my mistake was waiting too long. I didn’t know your mother was a yondie spreading her legs for Helton.” Eld snorted. “Another insufferable fool. All he had to do was let go of his pride and become her consort, but no, Helton couldn’t lower himself to be second-best. Worse, he created a pharadean, your illegitimate half-sister Kasmiri, which gave Ambo all the leverage he needed. So Ambo started with his demands. More and more bribes he took. When I found out, I went to your mother and told her about you. I asked for only a modest sum, and do you know what she did?”
Bithia shook her head.
“She laughed in my face. Even though I proved to her that you were legitimate, she still dismissed me.” Fury turned his pale face burnished red. “I told her I would bring you forth and she said if I did she would have you put to death.” He looked at her then, his hooded eyes so cold they burned. “When I told her I would go to your father, that is when I discovered the truth. She didn’t want to give your father the satisfaction of having a legitimate child. Because he knew Kasmiri wasn’t his. If you came along, he would have some power, and Clathia was determined your father would remain powerless.”
Wavering on her feet, Bithia tried to understand why her mother would hate her father so much. Had there ever been a time they were happy? “You never told my father?”
“I did.”
She waited breathlessly, but the cruel cratifan was going to make her ask.
“And?”
“He didn’t want you, either.” Eld shrugged. “Here I was offering him a legitimate daughter who would ensure his position, and he rejected you too. Said that would make his whoring ways impossible. With Kasmiri ready to take the throne, and your mother playing the wounded empress, he was free to do as he pleased. Having you around would have messed up everything.”
Heart breaking with pain, Bithia took one step from Eld, determined to run somewhere and hide. She did not want to believe Eld, but she did, because he confirmed all of her worst fears. And Ambo…he had not had a hand in her creation. Ambo must have been shocked when she arrived on Diola, but he’d turned her appearance to his advantage anyway. How Eld must have burned with fury.
“I haven’t told you what I want to keep silent.”
Frozen, with one foot before the other, Bithia turned her head and looked back at him. Shrunken in his bronze ill-fitting robe, Eld grinned at her as if he owned her very soul. He took one shambling step toward her, cupped her arm and clung to her. This close, she could smell him. He smelled exactly like one of Enovese’s ancient books, musty and old, like he too had been left on the shelf for years, unused, lonely, wiling his time away developing one scheme after another.
“I cannot make you the magistrate.” Thinking back, she didn’t remember him even vying for the position, not that she would have considered him. He was far too old to take such a demanding job. Ambo had been over seventy seasons, but he’d started as a young man.
Eld exhaled a sharp snort. “As if I care about that any longer. No, I think I am ripe for a much more powerful position.” Rubbing his face against her upper arm, he simpered a smile. “I want to be your consort.”
Time stood still.
“I want my daughter to one day hold dominion over all of Diola.”
Her mouth opened, but all that came out was a shuddering gasp of horror.
“I will give you my funds, of which I have amassed plenty, thus fixing one of your problems. And of course, if you were my bondmate, I would never reveal the truth of your origins.”
Mutely she continued to peer down into his face.
“Should you refuse, I will tell everyone everything I know. You will be ridiculed, reviled, and the other Houses will begin to campaign for your removal. As loyal as the guards are to you, they will stop being loyal once they are not paid.”
“But the palace accounts pay the guards.” She said this only to see if he knew that Diola was as destitute as she was. His answer confirmed he did not.
“Not the royal guards. I believe it was your grandmother who made the change, thinking that if she paid them, they would be loyal to her. And she was right. Although what worked for her does leave you in a bit of a mess.” He handed her a memory crystal. “In case you do not believe what I have spoken.” She stood mute, holding the black crystal in her hand.
“Think of what I offered. I will give you until sundown tomorrow to decide.”
Bithia watched him shuffle away, his steps slow, careful and precise. He moved as if he waded through syrup. Her mind tried to imagine a bonding ceremony between them, but rising bile made her stop.
Oh, the rich irony of him angling for a position of power in a soon-to-be powerless empire! She would have laughed in his face but for her own overwhelming feelings of shame. Unwanted, unloved, created solely for the purpose of securing funds. No matter how much some people had, they still desired more.
When she looked up, she saw Drahka and Viltori still with their heads together. And there was her salvation. With them she’d never once felt unwanted. They needed her, they wanted her, they cherished and adored her. When they’d discussed the lack of funds, they’d shared her fears, but refused to leave her side. They vowed that together they would solve the problem. But this, this horrible truth of her shameful birth. Would they still stand by her side?
Emotions overwhelmed her, but she managed to exit the great hall with her head high and her steps even. As she passed the guests, she nodded to those who bowed to her, but in their glittering eyes, she saw the animals within, the beasts waiting for her to show weakness.
When she did, they would pounce.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Drahka could barely think with all the noise surrounding him. Diola had more parties than his village had inhabitants. Silly displays of wealth adorned everyone, each striving to outdo the other. Rich foods filled the air with a hundred different scents along with all the elite’s clashing perfumes. He could barely breathe, but he also couldn’t leave. Doing so would be a slight to the new magistrate. Drahka had met the man briefly, and thought Menon was a solid choice, but Drahka didn’t linger in conversation, not when other matters weighed heavily on his mind.
“Pathetic peckards.” Viltori finished off his fourth drink of the evening. “That’s what Bithia would call them.”
Drahka didn’t like seeing his friend ensnared in a combination of alcohol and anger. It made him unpleasant and frightening, mainly because Drahka had no idea what he was likely to say or do. Ever since he’d returned to the empress suite, he’d been as snarly as a tangled fishing net. Drahka had tried to embrace him, tried to offer him an ear for his troubles, but Viltori pushed him away, both physically and emotionally. His rejection hurt more than Drahka wanted to admit. Whatever bothered Viltori, he was determined to keep the matter to himself.
“Are you not pleased that Enovese found an ancient rite regarding the empress bonding?” As sad as he was about Bithia’s precarious financial situation, he was pleased that, finally, they could all be together.
Viltori leaned forward. “Now there’s an interesting woman. All that hair! A man could get strangled by the length of it.” He grabbed another drink from the table between the couch and chair they sat upon. He took a prodigious swallow.
Drahka grabbed one as well, mainly to lessen the amount Viltori had access to. He sipped at the curious green liquid. The taste was sweet and bitter all at once. Like drinking tree bark mixed with fruit juice. Discreetly he dumped the liquid into one of the potted plants that surrounded them.
“Have you seen her bondmate?” Viltori nodded enthusiastically as he lifted his hands. “Big as you, but not as tall, and he glows. Gold. And his eyes are like azure crystals. He’s a demigod.” Viltori smirked nastily. “I wonder what his cock is like. All big and glowing. I’ll bet his tiny woman squeals when he gives it to her.”
Drahka placed the empty cup on the tray and grabbed another drink, this one blue. There were two cups of illias sitting there, but he no
ticed Viltori deliberately avoided them. Apparently, he did not feel amorous this evening and had no desire to become aroused, yet he continued to make sexual remarks about everyone who came up in conversation. Viltori spoke vulgarities without lust, almost as if he were daring Drahka to become angry with him. Drahka wondered what he had done to so offend his teacher. Had he gone too far in binding him? Viltori had seemed furious at the time, but then seemed to enjoy the tormenting he and Bithia had given to him.
“Please tell me what is wrong.” Drahka considered the creamy blue liquid in his glass, but he had no desire to actually drink it. When he lifted his gaze to Viltori, his eyes were watery, the soft brown nearly black in the shadow of his golden hair. “I thought you would be pleased that we can now all bond together. I thought that was what you wanted above all else.” Such news had delighted Drahka even though the bad news of the funding situation dampened his joy, he still was relieved that after all this strife, Viltori could now finally, and fully, give to Bithia. But Viltori did not seem happy at the news.
“Oh, yes, now we can bond. And have children. Poor innocent children.”
Over and over Viltori had bemoaned their possible issue when Drahka had thought that’s what had held him back; his desire to have legitimate children.
“Legitimate, yes, but not safe. Not from me.”
Drahka grabbed his hand, preventing him from taking another drink. “You will explain yourself. I tire of this confusion.”
“You should have let me die.”
Drahka sat very still, his eyes trying to connect to Viltori’s gaze, but his gaze was distant, as if he looked upon a world so far away no ship could ever sail there. He shoved off Drahka’s hand and took a drink without moving his head. Viltori poured the liquid into his mouth, then swallowed. Grimacing, he closed his eyes as the alcohol went down. He swayed from the impact. As he started to slide forward, Drahka caught him by the shoulder. Viltori straightened, then glared at him.
Wicked Empress:The Onic Empire, Book 4 Page 28