Dangerous Crowns

by A K Fedeau

  Hector raised his eyebrow and slunk over without saying a word.

  Plautius sipped his wine. “What, on Tiresia or Antipa?”

  “I don’t like island living. I’m looking for something with some land.”

  “Hmm. That’s going to be a pretty expensive cushion,” Hector said. “You going to buy it with my stolen silver?”

  The entire room trailed off.

  Ciacco hesitated, then blinked at Hector in disbelief. “What?”

  “You know, my silver,” Hector repeated. “The silver that you stole from me.”

  Ciacco let out a nervous chuckle. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  The officers around them stayed silent as others peered back and forth, until an uneasy air descended over the room like death.

  “Mira’s blood,” Guarneri swore. “I always sent my silver reports on time. We found a new vein in Yegorsky Mine last month.”

  Hector furrowed his brow. “I didn’t hear about that.”

  “I did,” Flavian added. “What in Mira’s name is going on?”

  The officers’ spouses watched the scene unfold with bated breath.

  “Tiberius?” Flavian asked. “What really happened at Hulder’s Rock?”

  “Good gods,” Dido exclaimed. “Was that a Jormund soldier, or one of our own?”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Ligari began. “We don’t have all the details…”

  “Are you serious?” Flavian interrupted her. “Do you realize what this implies?”

  “Wait a moment.” Plautius held his palm up to shush everyone. “I saw Ciacco meet with a hooded stranger in the sculpture garden one night.”

  “Will you all calm down?” Ciacco’s ears flushed. “What is this, a fucking tribunal?”

  “It’s true,” Marcus murmured. “I saw him meeting with someone, too.”

  Livia gave Marcus a frantic look that said, what are you doing?!

  For the first time in his life, Hector looked genuinely shocked.

  “Tiberius…”

  Everyone froze in place, even the servants with their trays.

  Hector paused for a long time - until at last he asked, “Why?”

  Ciacco just stared back, not dignifying him with a response.

  “You thought you could trick me.” A vein throbbed on Hector’s forehead. “You thought you could outsmart the man who made you high general!”

  “Your Majesty,” Ligari mumbled, “Is this really the time?”

  “This is my palace!” Hector snapped. “I can do it whenever the fuck I want.”

  Gods, his language is despicable, a major’s wife whispered across the room.

  “You want your silver?” Ciacco curled his lip. “Where’s the victory you promised us? You still figuring that one out?”

  Hector grit his teeth. “Shut up.”

  “You know what this war is? A disaster. We’ve got troops deserting left and right. The only time you gave a shit was when you thought the profit had dried up.”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Hector stepped into Ciacco’s personal space. “You just want to distract me while you play king somewhere else.”

  “If you could keep your fucking orders straight, we could’ve gotten here in two years. Three, if we’d really dragged our asses.” Ciacco ignored the gesture and went on. “But every time we got a foothold somewhere, you sent us somewhere else. Go here. Do that! If we hadn’t had to work around you, we might even have won.”

  Hector balked. “This war was your idea!”

  “No. It was ours, and I’m finishing it.” Ciacco straightened his back. “You’re not a leader. You’re a liability.”

  The officers fidgeted. Their spouses looked at each other with silent screams. Livia’s wrist instinctively tightened around Marcus’ forearm. They all waited for Hector to explode - but instead, he took a deep breath, with composure so out-of-character that the hair on Livia’s neck stood up.

  “Tiberius.” Hector set his goblet on the nearest servant’s tray, his voice ice-cold. “I’m going to give you one chance to show yourself out.”

  “At least tell me who told you,” Ciacco growled. “I’ll bet they benefit from this.”

  “You can ask him yourself.” Hector smirked. “He’s standing right next to you.”

  Marcus eyed Ligari. Livia eyed Ligari’s wife.

  “Incipio, you motherfucker!” Ciacco roared, and tackled Marcus with his full strength.

  Ligari’s wife yelped as the two of them barreled into the drink table, and the silver punch bowl flew toward the wall and splashed the nearby pillar. The guests gasped. Ciacco swung his good fist. Marcus dodged a moment too late, and Ciacco’s knuckles slammed into his cheek and jerked his head aside. Livia pounced on Ciacco and tugged at the neckline of his cloak, and soon the other generals followed suit, trying to break them up.

  “Guards! Guards!” Somebody hollered.

  Three guards burst through the doorway, and the guests cleared a path for them as they raced across the room.

  Marcus squished his palm in Ciacco’s face as Ciacco wound up for a second punch, and the guests watched in silent horror as the guards ripped Livia off the pile. They herded everyone to their feet, and Marcus glared at Ciacco like a baited bull - his shoulders slouched, his breathing heavy, blood streaming from his lip.

  “Take him back to his room,” Hector muttered. “I’ll figure out what to do with him.”

  And with that, the guards dragged Ciacco out, struggling every step of the way.

  •••

  An hour later, as the fountains gurgled in the evening air, another bloodcurdling scream rang out through the upstairs corridors.

  Livia ducked around the corner and followed the shrill, sudden sound, and crashed into a maid fleeing as fast as her legs would carry her. The maid gasped. Livia jumped. Their feet shuffled back and forth, and they danced around each other until the maid finally scrambled past. Livia brushed her dress off, then continued on her way, and skidded to a halt in front of Ciacco’s suite and found the door ajar.

  “What happened?” The royal physician asked, in her deep, distinctive voice.

  “I don’t know!” A footman answered. “I just found him like this!”

  Livia slunk into the shadows with quick, muffled footsteps, and scooted over until she could peek through the open doorway. When she saw nothing, she threw caution to the wind and crossed the hall, and stepped into Ciacco’s suite and flattened herself against the door.

  “Gods!” The physician swore. “How did he do this to himself?”

  “Is he dead?”

  “No, but he will be if we don’t do something fast!”

  And with that, Livia saw the two of them hunched over the pool, heaving Ciacco shoulders-first out of a blood-red bath.

  Livia clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle her startled noise, and threw her other hand down on Ciacco’s desk to steady herself. When her hand squished a piece of parchment, she flinched and drew it away, and found a dog-eared letter with a plain, broken gray seal.

  “Give me that cloth,” the physician ordered. “Then hold one to his other wrist.”

  “And what?”

  “Just press!” The physician cried. “We’ve got to get this blood to stop!”

  The footman tore Ciacco’s bath towel and threw half of it aside, and the physician muttered to herself as she dug through her box of supplies. Before they could see her, Livia grabbed the letter and ran to a nearby alcove - then unfolded it and read it, her eyes widening with each line.

  T,

  Next shipment sent out for deposit on 23rd Umbral Month. In 2-3 payouts, should have enough to buy place like you talked about. Word to the wise: Find something rural. Maybe the property by Cherepovo House. Not going to be welcome in the capital unless you’ve got serious friends.

  Heard about Hulder’s Rock. You’re getting careless. You can’t afford to slip up again. Keep your head down. Keep your mouth shut. Do what it takes
to end the war. Otherwise, lieutenant who went after you might decide to finish the job. Silver is a fickle business. Could dry up any time we want.

  Friends of the Severin Miners’ Guild

  •••

  “Marcus!”

  Livia raced from the alcove toward her own room down the hall, her breath short and her heart pounding and fear ringing in her ears.

  She jiggled her doorknob and barged in, but found no one inside. Marcus? Oh, gods. Where is he now? She doubled back and slammed the door. When she couldn’t find him upstairs, she ran downstairs and tried again - past the library and the art gallery, up and down the moonlit floors.

  And then she came to the treasury at the end of the statuary hall, and saw the back of Marcus’ red cloak among the royal artifacts.

  Livia crept through the doorway and sized the gleaming treasures up. A blue veil from a bygone queen. A scepter on an ebony stand. A cameo tiara on a red velvet pillow, and a silver plate and chalice, over five hundred years old. And Marcus stood among them, admiring a case that held a fabled crown - a laurel wreath with yellow diamonds set in the golden leaves.

  Livia inched toward him. “What are you doing in here?”

  Marcus didn’t answer her.

  “Marcus?” Livia asked again. “Where are the guards?”

  Marcus muttered, “I sent them away.”

  “Marcus, listen. It’s Ciacco.” Livia squeezed through the aisles as she caught her breath. “Some servants found him in his bath. He slit his wrists. We could be in big trouble.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “Barely.”

  “Hm. That’s a shame,” Marcus said. “I can think of a lot of grieving mothers who’d like to see him go.”

  Livia came to an awkward halt and let go of her skirt, and Marcus kept gazing through his reflection in the glass.

  “Marcus…”

  Marcus finally glanced away from the case. “What?”

  Livia’s eyes widened in horror. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  Marcus straightened his back, and for the first time, Livia noticed the bruise under his eye.

  “Ciacco attacks you at dinner, and then turns up with his wrists cut?” Livia snarled. “Do you realize how many eyes are going to be on us?”

  “What else was I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. Consult me? Like you should have the entire time?” Livia threw up her arms. “I think someone’s already spying on us. Any day, we could be found out.”

  “We won’t have to worry about that for long.”

  The hair on Livia’s neck stood up. “What do you mean?”

  Marcus dug through the tunic pocket under his leather straps.

  “You remember when I talked to Kiri about how this was going to end?” He asked. “I was starting to think he wouldn’t deliver.”

  Livia’s stomach sank.

  “The other day, I found this in a blank letter in one of my boots.” Marcus pulled out a glass vial. “Ciacco was right. Severin really does have spies everywhere.”

  Livia studied the vial with a mixture of fear and awe - and when she saw a clear fluid, she asked,

  “Is that suspiria?”

  “Tasteless, traceless, and takes about four hours to take hold. They’ll never know it was you.”

  “What, now you expect me to poison him?”

  “By the time it stops his heart, he’ll be asleep.” Marcus tipped the vial back and forth. “By the time they find him in the morning, we’ll already be gone.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that?” Livia hissed. “Have you thought this through at all?”

  “I’ve already given you the perfect shot.”

  Livia blinked, taken aback.

  “In three days, Catarina opens at the Proscenium. Hector wants us to see it with him.”

  “How…?”

  “A thank-you gift for ratting Ciacco out.” Marcus ran his thumb back and forth along the vial as he talked. “We have him. It’s dark. It’s noisy. The guards will be outside the box. We’ll never get another chance like it. All he has to do is pour a glass of wine.”

  Livia just stood there, still lost for words.

  “You know what I keep coming back to? That Hector wants to invade Juba. He’s ready to start another war before this one is even cold.” Marcus stuck the vial in his pocket and turned back to the crown. “This is how he thinks. We’re not people. We’re numbers on a report he won’t even read.”

  “Artemisia will be different.”

  Marcus grumbled, “You seem awfully sure of that.”

  “She’s an eighteen-year-old girl, Marcus. War is the last thing on her mind.”

  “Until what?”

  “I…” Livia balked - “until nothing. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Until what?” Marcus repeated. “Until some Histrian diplomat dies abroad? Until she finds out the guard who killed her mother was from Carpathia?” He stumbled over his thoughts faster than he could finish them. “That’s the problem with war. It’s easy to find a good reason for one. And then there you are, years later, with a generation’s blood on your hands.”

  Livia didn’t react, but a chill slithered down her spine.

  “It’s never going to be real for them. They don’t understand the cost.” Marcus lowered his voice and stared into his dark, reflected eyes. “We need someone who can make sure it never happens again.”

  An agonizing silence fell - and Livia slowly shook her head.

  “No.”

  Marcus looked back at her. “Why not?”

  “We’re not even going there.”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Livia the First, the orphan queen. You didn’t claw your way to the top of this court just to survive.” Marcus paced around Livia with a look somewhere between madness and divine insight. “Artemisia’s so naive, she’ll have to defer to us anyway.”

  “That’s not an excuse.” Livia clenched her fists. “And it’s not what Delphinia would want.”

  “She’s spent eight years in a convent. She has no idea what she’s in for. But the two of us… we could do it.” Marcus grabbed Livia’s hands. “We’d be unstoppable.”

  Livia recoiled. “Marcus…”

  Marcus said nothing.

  “What in Mira’s name is wrong with you?”

  Marcus still didn’t respond.

  “You didn’t even want to do this when I told you in the chapel that night. What happened?” Livia turned up her eyebrows. “I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

  “You’re the one who set it in motion.”

  “I know, and I almost regret it.” Livia tugged against his grasp. “I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve done it alone.”

  “You couldn’t have stolen the Falling Star without my key.” Marcus didn’t let go. “You couldn’t have laid a finger on Ciacco.”

  “I would’ve figured something out.”

  “I left my troops to die in the snowfields. I lied to Hector’s face!” Marcus jabbed his chest. “Whatever I am, you made me. And now you have to see it through.”

  “I didn’t make you do any of this with Operation Nightfall.” Livia bared her teeth. “I told you to pull back, and you didn’t listen.”

  “I’m not backing down from the greater good.”

  “Driving Ciacco to suicide? Now you want to take the throne for yourself? Where does it stop?!”

  Marcus glowered at her. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  Marcus leaned in so close that Livia could feel his breath, and the room hung with leaden silence after the growl of his voice. They lingered longer and longer, and Livia felt like the walls were closing in on her - until she finally backed away and swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “You’re right.” She took a second step back. “I don’t.” Then a third. “That’s what scares me.”

  Marcus’ face twisted with dismay as he whispered, “What?”

  Livia headed for
the door without answering.

  Marcus followed her on frantic feet. “What are you doing?!”

  “I’m going upstairs,” Livia told him. “I have to be alone.”

  Livia fled through the doorway before Marcus could protest again, her skirt trailing behind her and her insides tight with doubt. When she climbed the nearest staircase and made sure no one could see, she buried her face in her hands and slumped against the wall.

  CHAPTER 18

  On the night of the play, guests streamed up the steps of the Proscenium, and passed between its two great pillars and through the coffered doors.

  Inside, bright red banners for Catarina blazed on the walls, along the marble stairs that branched left and right to the upper balconies. Some of the guests squeezed through the lobby and drank wine from thin silver flutes. Some of them admired each other’s tiaras, diamonds, and gold-trimmed capes. And others craned their necks to admire the massive, painted dome, where Titus and Mira played a harp in a sky of pink-white clouds.

  And in the midst of the spectacle, Marcus and Livia arrived - parting the crowd as they walked arm-in-arm across the black marble floor.

  The guests stared at Marcus’ deep purple tunic as they passed, and Livia’s matching sleeveless gown swayed with every step. Marcus’ boots shone like water, polished with a general’s panache. Livia’s black feather collar floated above her shoulders like a peacock tail. And the light gleamed off the silver band around the back of Marcus’ head - a plain, but unmistakable likeness of a laurel crown.

  As the awe died down, the two of them slipped into a dark corridor, and found an alcove just big enough for the two of them to fit inside. Marcus ducked his head and squeezed in, then Livia followed him, and she pulled a gold tassel to close the red velvet drape on the doorway.

  “Do you have it?” Marcus asked.

  “The…?”

  Marcus gave her an insinuating nod.

  Livia showed him the oval onyx ring on her third finger, then tilted her wrist so he could see the hinged bezel on the side.