by A K Fedeau
“I guess he wasn’t in the mood to get dressed.”
“Well… was he… you know… impressive?”
Marcus answered flatly, “No.”
In the room at the end of the hall, Camilla spoke to a pair of noblemen, with mustaches and bright white turbans and gold-embroidered kaftans. Their conversation floated through the aisles of portraits and mounted busts, and Marcus and Livia exchanged furtive looks as their ears pricked up.
“You need to make King Hector aware that this could affect our relationship.”
“What?”
“Queen Yasmina heard what he said at the regents’ dinner last month.”
Livia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ugh.”
“Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.” Livia let go of her nose. “I’ve just had enough of Camilla for one day.”
“What’s the matter? Didn’t…?” Marcus gave her an insinuating nod. “You know?”
“Not really.”
Marcus scooted closer to her. “Why? What went wrong?”
“Hermia got the bouquet, and I left it at the olive tree. Camilla showed up and saw it, but immediately tore off the note.” Livia kept her voice low as she straightened her gold-trimmed neckline. “Her maid said she looked upset. I’m not sure what to make of that.”
“Wait.” Marcus quirked his eyebrow. “Her maid did?”
“Yes.”
“How do you find that out?”
“I know a cook who knows a handyman who knows a scullery maid.”
“Phew.” Marcus raised his other eyebrow to match. “You really do have ears everywhere.”
They stared at the painting for another minute, and then Marcus’ face twisted with dismay.
“You don’t worry that any of those people could expose us, do you?”
“Not if they think I’m just looking for gossip.”
“Oh.” Marcus stroked his chin. “Of course.”
They sulked in shared, uncomfortable silence as a maid scuttled past, and in the other room, Camilla’s tone grew weary and thin.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.”
“Is there any other way to interpret it?”
“Well, I…” Camilla stammered…
“My lady, the damage has been done.”
“Doesn’t Queen Yasmina have better things to do than worry about that?”
“He said we were ‘a province of lazy bastards.’ You can’t expect her not to respond.”
“Well…” Marcus rubbed the back of his head - “isn’t there anything else you can do?”
“If I knew what it was, I’d do it.” Livia made a sullen face. “I did learn one thing, though. Demetrio is still over the moon for her.”
“Is he?”
“He’d do anything to get her back. He told me so himself.”
“I wondered if he still carried a torch for her.”
“He’s not very subtle, either.” Livia frowned. “There’s a slim chance that this could escalate before we intend it to.”
“‘Before we intend it to?’” Marcus eyed the noblemen. “Are you trying to draw this out?”
“The more slowly you influence someone, the more control you have over them. You can ease them into things. Make it look like a coincidence.” Livia hushed her voice to explain, then shifted in her seat. “We’re lucky she’s not expecting. That would blow through court like a slum fire.”
“Do we know she’s not?”
“Trust me, she isn’t.”
“Have you been reading the royal physician’s files?”
Livia murmured, “She takes moonflower tinctures.”
“Do they really work all the time?”
“Have I ever gotten in trouble from you?”
Marcus’ eyebrows jumped again. “Good point.”
The nobles went on. “If he’s going to continue to insult us…”
“I’m sorry. I know.”
“We can’t keep supporting him in good confidence.”
“I’m sorry. I know.” Camilla threw her hands up, then hugged her arms tight to her chest. “He’s in a tight financial spot now that the Beauregards are gone. He needs you more than ever.”
“Then he should think before he speaks next time.”
The Kadithan noblemen shook their heads and gathered up their kaftans, and mumbled amongst each other as they left Camilla alone. Camilla leaned against the statue base behind her and held her forehead - and with a soft, anguished noise, she composed herself and trudged down the hall.
“Quick.” Livia took Marcus’ arm. “Walk with me.”
They stood up from the couch, and as they hurried away, Camilla’s footsteps caught up to them.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite couple.”
Livia whispered, “Let me handle her.”
“No. Let me.” Marcus turned around and smiled. “Lady Camilla. Good day.”
“Good day, Livia.” Camilla didn’t even acknowledge him with a glance. “Here to see the new painting?”
“You know me. Always want to support the arts.”
“I’m going to pretend you’re not being sarcastic. You could use some culture once in a while.” Camilla sneered at Marcus’ white tunic, then Livia’s dress. “In your matching clothes. Groundbreaking.”
Livia stiffened. “I like white. It looks good on me.”
“Yes, it did the last eight times you wore that.”
Marcus looked innocent. “Careful. People might think you’re being unkind.”
“General. I didn’t see you there.” Camilla’s face lit up like a lamp. “Looks like all the time at home has been good for you.”
Marcus’ ears flushed. “I do feel a little more like myself.”
“I’m surprised they haven’t called you back yet.”
Marcus hesitated. “I…”
Livia swooped in. “He hasn’t heard back from the front.”
“Do you let her do all the talking for you?”
Marcus answered, “No more than you do for His Majesty.”
“Hmph. He bites. I like it.” Camilla sized Marcus up. “Well, you can pay me a visit if you ever want to speak for yourself.”
Marcus set his jaw. “Duly noted.”
“I could put your mouth to good use any time.”
Camilla batted her eyelashes as she reached up to Marcus’ chest, and she brushed an imaginary hair off his shoulder before she walked away. As she sashayed down the gallery, Livia furrowed her brow - and once Camilla had vanished, she tightened her grip on Marcus’ arm.
“Marcus…”
Marcus blinked at her with confusion. “What?”
“I’m going to ask you to do something I’ll never ask you for again.”
CHAPTER 14
The next night, the Moonlight Festival lit up the palace again, with wine and smoldering incense that filled the whole first floor.
The courtiers gambled and drank the way they had the night before, as the piles of desserts around them went cold in the evening air. The servants refilled the empty goblets and the oil lamps, and they tapped their toes to the music in the safety of the unlit halls. And Marcus strode by the courtiers toward a marble balcony, bathed in the pale golden light that glowed in the garden below.
All right. You can do this. Marcus straightened his collar and cleared his throat. If she comes over, don’t run. Keep her talking as long as you can.
Sure enough, Camilla excused herself and took another goblet of wine, and swept her skirt into her free hand as she followed him out. So instead of moving away, Marcus stood rooted to the spot, and let Camilla swish over to him in her pale pink satin dress.
“Evening, General Incipio.”
Marcus nodded at her. “Hello.”
“Where’s Livia?”
“She has a headache. She’s in her room for the evening.”
“Oh.” Camilla set her goblet next to Marcus’ hand on the rail. “Well, that’s a shame. It’s boring to spend
the Moonlight Festival alone.”
Marcus gave her a small, uncomfortable grin. “It’s not so bad. I’ve seen worse.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen worse, sweetheart. That doesn’t mean you’re having fun.”
As Camilla turned to face him, Marcus smelled wine on her breath, and when she glanced over her shoulder, he saw a glassy sheen in her eyes.
Camilla smiled. “Let me keep you company.”
Marcus stiffened his grin. “All right.”
“Come on. I’m not going to hurt you.” Camilla poked his shoulder a little too hard. “You always look so serious. You ought to let your hair down sometime.”
“I’m afraid this is all the hair I have.”
“I thought you’d say something like that.” Camilla brushed his forearm as she reached for her wine. “How do I always seem to find the ones with no sense of humor?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. I’ve got a weakness for military men.”
Camilla took a sip of her wine, then set it down again, and a servant stepped up to her, refilled her goblet, and slipped away. Marcus laced his fingers for lack of anywhere to put his hands - until he spied a bowl of oranges beside him, reached over, and picked one up.
“Tell me, Marcus. Do you ever get lonely up there at the front?”
“Of course.” Marcus sniffed the orange. “I think every soldier does.”
“Even the Severins and Jormunds?”
“I’m sure.” Marcus scraped the green nub at the orange’s end. “They’re no different from us. They have people waiting for them at home.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were getting soft on them.”
“Soft? No. Just observant.” Marcus smirked. “They were our allies ten years ago.”
Marcus leaned against the railing and gripped the orange in his hand, then dug his other thumbnail into the cool, leathery flesh.
“You know what I wonder?” Camilla asked.
“I genuinely don’t know.”
“Do you think war makes people more forgiving?”
Marcus kept digging. “What do you mean?”
“You know, if there’s really no one there to keep them warm at night.”
Marcus’ nail broke through, and a drop of juice squirted onto his thumb.
“I mean, it’s cold and miserable, and any day could be their last.” Camilla propped her elbow on the rail and played with her goblet stem. “Do you think they ever reconsider things that they regret?”
“I don’t follow.”
“You know, old lovers. Girls who broke their heart years ago.”
Marcus peeled the skin back. “Sounds like you’re hoping someone will.”
“Maybe.” Camilla’s eyes fell. “Maybe I’m hoping for too much.”
Marcus stuck his finger in the center and eased one of the wedges out, and another drop ran down his wrist as he slipped it into his mouth.
“Anyway, I’m being foolish.” Camilla took another sip of wine, then studied the inside of the goblet before she put it down. “People can be lonely anywhere. They don’t need a war to do that. Sometimes creature comforts make it worse.”
“Are you?”
“Terribly.” Camilla bowed her head. “The worst part is, I know how I am. I know it’s all my fault. None of my friends even like me. They just want to elevate themselves.”
“You can’t make everyone like you.”
Camilla turned up her eyebrows. “Why not?”
“Don’t ask me.” Marcus stuck two of his fingers through the pith. “I do everything I can for my troops, and some of them still only salute my uniform. I wish they didn’t, but I can’t help it. Some people just don’t get along.”
Camilla folded her hands in front of her face. “Well, it’s not fair.”
“You could stack the deck in your favor if you stopped flirting with married men.”
Camilla scowled. “Don’t go there.”
Marcus’ eyes widened. “All right. I won’t.”
“I don’t really like doing it. I just can’t bring myself to stop.”
“What do you get from it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not even aware I’m doing it half the time.”
Marcus peeled more of the orange. “Oh.”
Camilla sighed and twirled her giant sausage curl.
“Can I tell you something?”
Marcus looked up at her. “What?”
“I like you better than Hector.”
“You do?”
“Of course. I told you it’s boring to spend the Moonlight Festival alone.” Camilla fidgeted with her mother-of-pearl shoulder clasp. “I don’t… well, I don’t know. I have no idea what Hector thinks. The other night, he went off to gamble. I spent most of the evening by myself.”
“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Marcus lied, and shoved the next orange wedge in his mouth.
“He is. At least around me.” Camilla stared at the garden below. “I’m tired of picking up after him. The lying. The groveling to ambassadors. Writing his apologies, because he won’t.” She let go of her clasp. “If he’d give the speeches I wrote for him, he wouldn’t have anything to be sorry for. But he has to do everything his way. And gods help you if you say he’s wrong.”
Marcus played with the orange peel. “Camilla, I’m not sure we should be talking about this.”
“I’m sick of it.” Camilla’s face cracked. “I have to tell someone.”
A long, awkward silence fell, and a pair of servants floated by.
“Well…” Marcus broke the tension - “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Marcus didn’t respond.
Camilla leaned forward. “I forgot how nice it was to have someone to listen to me.”
Marcus kept his back soldier-straight, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
“You know…” Camilla murmured, so close that her breath brushed his chin.
“What?”
Camilla gazed up at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?”
Marcus backed a single inch away from the rail. “Camilla, please.”
“Because you do.” Camilla plucked a wedge from his orange. “I’d never noticed before.”
Marcus watched Camilla as she sank her teeth into the orange, and bit off half the wedge before she licked the juice off her lip. She held the other lipstick-stained half up to Marcus’ mouth - and when she tried to tease it open, he put a gentle hand on her arm.
“Camilla…”
“What’s the matter?”
“Don’t do something you regret.”
“Please…”
“Camilla.” Marcus nudged her away. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”
•••
Upstairs, Livia tiptoed through the empty, silent halls, with her hand cupped over her oil lamp to keep the light to herself.
She passed suite after suite, rounded the corner, and passed two more - then counted in her head, one, two, three, until she found Lady Camilla’s door. She bent over, set the lamp down, and dug in the back of her shoe, and fished out Marcus’ skeleton key and stuck it in the lock.
All right, she asked herself. How long can Marcus keep her busy down there?
I have no idea, she answered. I’ll just have to go as fast as I can.
When the lock clicked, she pulled the key out and slipped it back into her shoe. She inched the door open, slid through, gripped the handle, and eased it shut. She held her breath and waited - and when she heard no signs of life, she crept around the candelabra and into the lavish room.
Now, if I were Camilla… Livia’s eyes roamed left and right - would I keep something that reminded me of Demetrio?
She knelt by the chest in front of Camilla’s gauzy canopy bed, and jiggled the lid and tried Marcus’ skeleton key, but it didn’t work. Damn. She turned and nearly tripped over an overstuffed footstool, and caught it with her foot before it could clatter on th
e floor. She thumbed through the bookshelf, pushed back curtains, even checked around the sunken bath - and when nothing turned up, she stopped and ran her hand through her hair.
This is ridiculous. Livia scratched her head, then let her arm drop. If she has the vial, she’s not going to keep it where Hector could stumble onto it.
She perched the lamp on the nightstand and searched everywhere she could, peeking under the bed and rifling through drawer after drawer. The white jewelry box - nothing. The chest below - just makeup. Finally, she opened the wardrobe, and felt up, down, behind the gowns - but still nothing. No secret compartment, no hidden treasure trove.
Damn. Livia put her hands on her hips. This was a waste of time…
Until she saw a letter sitting on Camilla’s dressing table.
Livia crept over and set the lamp in front of the mirror, and found Camilla’s pen thrown aside, the ink still drying in the nib. She leaned closer and peered at the letter without picking it up, and her eyes started out of her head when she read the first line.
Demetrio,
I’m sorry for what I said to you in the garden the other day. I just don’t know what to do with you. You’re still so much like the boy I loved years ago. The way we ended things was foolish. It wouldn’t matter to me now.
Especially now that I know I can’t stay with Hector anymore.
I was blind. I ignored your warnings, and now I’m paying for it. He’s started spending my family’s money. He’s left me to deal with the Yasmina problem alone. Yesterday he heard about the editor of the Acta Diurna, and he was inconsolable. He threw a vase at the wall before I could calm him down. He’s always had a temper, but lately he’s been getting worse. I’m as good as the vase to him. It’s a matter of time before he throws me too.
He’ll lose his wits when he finds out, but I’ve made up my mind. I have to get out, Demetrio. I can’t live like this anymore. Come to the
And just like that, the letter ended, without even an inkblot.
A pair of footsteps echoed somewhere in the hall outside, and then two pairs of high-pitched laughter and a woman’s voice. Livia froze. Oh, gods. Camilla? She listened to the voice again. No. Wait, maybe? She pressed her ear to the wall. No. But time to get out. She stood stock-still until it passed, then scampered across the room, and left the letter on the table as she bolted out.