Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2)

by Frances Smith

  Juno smiled. "You know, not everything that goes on here is what you think. A lot of it is, true, but not all. Some of us have other talents."

  "I have no need of any of your...talents, thank you ma'am," Michael said gruffly.

  Juno chuckled. "I don't suppose you've seen anyone quite like me, have you?"

  Michael frowned. "As it happens, no."

  "I'm from Xiang-li," Juno said. "My name is actually Jun, they just call me Juno because they're a bunch of barbarians who can't pronounce properly."

  "Barbarians?"

  Juno smirked. "You think you're the only civilization who looks down on everybody else? My people had an empire greater than yours when this city was a shepherd's watering hole."

  "Fascinating," Michael replied in a deadpan tone. "I fail to see how any of this leads to your presence in my room."

  "It has been said that the Xiangliese have perfected the art of removing sex from prostitution," Juno said, standing up off the bed. "A gross exaggeration, yet one with some truth in it. You may not need to make love, but you need something I can tell. Even if it's just someone to confess all those secrets that you daren't confess even to your friends."

  Michael shook his head. "If I cannot tell my friends, why would I unburden myself to you?"

  "Because I don't care what you say," Juno replied. "Why should it matter to me? I'm just a whore."

  "Do not talk about yourself that way," Michael said. "All women are ladies and should be treated as such. That, at any rate, is what my mother always said."

  "If that's what you want. I can be whatever you want me to be."

  Michael leant against the wall and slid down it, ending up squatting on the floor. "I don't know if I can save him."

  "Who?"

  "My brother, Felix. He is with the enemy. His Highness and Gideon wanted to kill him, but I convinced them I could turn him back to the right side. But," Michael started to laugh. "I've no idea how to even start. I mean the last time we met he literally killed me. What am I supposed to do, give him a speech and a fraternal embrace? What if His Highness is right, what if I have to choose between my brother and the Empire? Gideon trusts me with everything that is precious to him, but Felix is family. How can I choose between them?

  "Everyone: Gideon, Jason, Amy, they all think that I am someone better than I am. A gentleman, a great warrior, a hero, the Last Firstborn of Old Corona. And I try to be those things. I am those things, more than I was. But still I am left acting the part half the time or more, and I am worried that they have placed more hopes on me than I can carry. But at the same time I can't tell them that, because I need their love too much."

  Michael smiled. "And now you know something no one else does. I am sure it bored you horribly."

  Juno raised one eyebrow. "I think the lamb is wiser than you give him credit for. Most like the others are too. I think, if you were a fraud, you wouldn't fool him." She blinked. "But what do I know? I'm just...a lady." Juno chuckled. "Is there anything else, anything more, physical? It's all on the house to a friend of the lamb. For one night, anyway."

  Michael smiled. “It is a kind offer, Filia, but even were I minded to accept, I could not force myself upon you.”

  “Suit yourself,” Juno said. “There’s lots of us about if you change your mind.”

  “Goodnight, Filia.”

  “Goodnight,” Juno said, stepping over Michael’s legs as she left the room. Michael watched as she closed the door, and left him all alone, enclosed in this space, with no one to see and no one to reach him.

  Michael sighed as he bowed his head. “Empress help me, what am I going to do?”

  IX

  The Last Aurelian and the Empire's Honour

  Miranda and Octavia half-sat, half knelt upon the luxurious bed as Miranda tried to braid Octavia's golden hair, a feat complicated by the fact that it was only a pixie cut to begin with. Her fingers fiddled with the golden strands, tugging and twisting at them.

  "I'm not hurting you, am I?" Miranda asked solicitously.

  "No," Octavia, who had remained absolutely still no matter what the torments to which Miranda subjected her, replied with a bright smile.

  Miranda was by no means convinced of that, but kept on working. "You know I haven't done this sort of thing before. It will probably come out awful."

  "As long as you've done it, then it will be beautiful no matter how it looks," Octavia said.

  Miranda frowned, pausing with a braid, or some semblance of one, halfway done. "Why is it you want this so much? You practically begged me to do it, but I hardly know how and your hair isn't really long for a braid anyway."

  Octavia shrugged. "Maybe I'll grow some of my hair just so the braid looks better."

  "Why would you bother?"

  Octavia hesitated a moment, biting her lip. "It's a local custom."

  "An aestival custom?"

  "No, from the village in Tarquinia where I grew up," Octavia replied. "Among the girls there, when they were...betrothed to be married, they would braid their hair."

  Miranda grinned. "You're not trying to trick me into marriage through some country custom are you?"

  "No, it isn't like that, it was nothing to do with the ceremony or anything. It was just a local thing, if you wore your hair in a braid it was a sign that... that you belonged to somebody."

  Miranda blinked. "Oh. I see."

  "When I was young, I used to envy the girls with braided hair so much," Octavia said, looking at Miranda through those wide golden eyes. "Nobody wanted me, not even my own mother. But those girls had somewhere they belonged, someone who wanted them. Not even Lord Father really wanted me, not after the first few weeks. Nobody has ever wanted me the way that you do."

  Miranda was speechless. She felt so warm inside at Octavia's words. She had to look away, wiping at her eyes.

  "Miranda? Are you all right?" Octavia asked.

  Miranda smiled. "Yes. I'm fine. Everything's fine, everything's wonderful. Now, let's finish that braid."

  Octavia's smile widened as Miranda kept working, tugging at strands of hair and fiddling desperately to try and get them into some sort of weave.

  "What do you want to tie the end off with?"

  "There should be some silver thread over there," Octavia said.

  "Ah, so that's what that's for," Miranda replied. "Another village custom?"

  "No, you could use whatever colour thread you wanted," Octavia said. "I just thought silver would look nice. That and it's the colour of your hair. Didn't you have any customs like this in the village where you grew up?"

  "In Lover's Rock? Not that I can recall," Miranda said. "But then, I grew up in Corona."

  "What does that have to do with it?"

  "Well, Novarianism doesn't really have a centre, it just is, so it doesn't surprise me that you get local customs springing up in some places. But Corona is the heartland of the Turonim, and so things are done in a very strictly Turonim way. Mind you, I suppose that means that to outsiders, Turonim customs are our local eccentricities."

  "So how did people get engaged in Lover's Rock?"

  "With a pearl," Miranda murmured. "The young man gives the young lady a single pearl on a string or chain, the larger the better, and she wears it around her neck during the engagement. When they marry the promise pearl gets threaded into the centre of a necklace."

  "A pearl," Octavia whispered, a pensive expression occupying her face.

  "Yes," Miranda said. "Technically, the man is supposed to dive down into the ocean and get the pearl from there, as a sign of his courage and resolve to run great risks for his maiden's love, but most people just buy them now."

  "I think that's sad," Octavia said. "Love ought to be worth a little courage."

  Miranda chuckled. "In the temple at Lover's Rock there is a sacred relic: the pearl necklace that Prince Simon gave to Princess Miranda on their wedding day. Or so they say, at least. When I was a girl, Felix stole one of the pearls from that necklace, hung it on a
string and gave it to their friend Amy."

  "Really? The captain stole a sacred relic?" Octavia asked. "And he asked someone to marry him?"

  "No, he didn't really mean it, we were all far too young; although he and Michael were both sweet on her without a doubt. I'm sure he just meant it to say that...that he cared about her."

  Octavia blinked. When her voice came, it was suddenly cautious. "Did anyone, um, did anyone ever offer you a pearl?"

  "No," Miranda said. "And a good thing too, I never wanted one."

  "Can't women marry other women in Corona?"

  Miranda was silent for a moment. "You know that's a very good question. I really don't know the answer. I was the only one in Lover's Rock, and I never thought to find out. I'm sure if I had my brother's knowledge of Coronim lore I could tell you all about Naboth and Benjamin, the Two Husbands Who Killed Everybody, but I don't and I can't. I never gave it any thought because it never really interested me."

  "Really?" Octavia said. "You never wanted to..."

  "I don't see the point," Miranda said. "The only reason for getting married is if you're rich and want to get your hands on your wife's property, or secure your property for your heirs."

  "You really think so?" Octavia asked, her voice becoming slightly higher than normal.

  Miranda nodded. "Don't you?"

  "I..." Octavia began, and then halted for a while. "I...I suppose you're right." Her demeanour became a little more subdued, leaving Miranda with the impression that she had said or done the wrong thing. But she had hardly said anything, nor done anything but continue trying to braid Octavia's hair.

  "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine," Octavia said.

  "You can tell me the truth, you know."

  Octavia's mouth opened a fraction, but any words were forestalled by the sound of knocking at the door.

  "Commander, can we come in?"

  Miranda rolled her eyes as she pushed herself off the bed and onto her feet. Her leg twitched with irritation at the sudden change. "Yes."

  The door opened and Ascanius and Julian walked in. They both saluted her, as they had been doing ever since she had come back from the palace with her new appointment as Commander of the Army. After five days Miranda was getting a little sick of it.

  "Do you have to keep doing that?" she asked.

  "You'd better get used to it, sir, they'll be coming thick and fast once you start meeting the officers," Ascanius said.

  Miranda sighed. "At least it's stopped you from calling me 'love'. Small mercies I suppose. Can I not order you not to salute?"

  "Technically not since we aren't in the army any more, sir," Julian said.

  "Then why are you saluting and calling me sir?" Miranda asked.

  "Habit, sir."

  "I see," Miranda murmured. "Did you come up here for a purpose or was it simply to annoy me?"

  "You've got a visitor," Ascanius said. "Lady Commenae is at the door, requesting a private audience."

  "Lady Commenae?" Miranda asked, recalling the Lord Commenae's beautiful blonde wife. Unlike her sister Helen Manzikes, whom Miranda had come to understand rather well, the Lady Commenae was a near stranger to her. "Did she say why?"

  "No," Ascanius said. "But probably something to do with your new job."

  "You think she's here to toady?"

  Julian shook his head. "The Commenae don't toady, not to anyone."

  "They like other people to toady to them, but it's never the other way around," Ascanius added. "Mind you, I reckon the captain would have licked the boots of his precious Empress if she'd asked him too."

  "No, he just would have liked us to think that that's what he'd do," Julian muttered. "He was too proud to bend his back that far."

  "Yes, fascinating, I'm sure," Miranda said. "It doesn't help to work out what the Lady Commenae wants, does it?"

  "You could just ask her," Octavia suggested.

  Miranda let out a bark of laughter. "Yes, of course I could. Has she been let in yet?"

  "Not yet, no," Ascanius said. "Though Lord Quirian says that you can use the dining room if you want to receive her."

  "Then that's what I shall do," Miranda said. "Would one of you go down and tell him that, and the other go tell them to let her in. Will she mind her retinue waiting outside?"

  "Probably not, she's no cause to expect them to be admitted," Ascanius said. He turned to disappear back down the stairs.

  "Hold on just a moment, both of you," Miranda said quickly. "I've got something to ask you. I am, as you two are so fond of pointing out, Commander of the Army now. And that means I need a staff, I suppose. Well, you two were both soldiers, and I think you're both on my side. So how would you like to be soldiers again, only officers this time, and work for me?"

  The two men paused, their scabbed and calloused hands brushing against their old and faded uniform tunics, the hilts of the war-worn blades they wore upon their hips. Julian brushed the thin moustache he was cultivating on his upper lip, while Ascanius brushed some of his long black hair off his forehead.

  "Us? Officers?" Ascanius said. "Are you having a laugh?"

  "No," Miranda said. "Have I said something funny?"

  "We're hardly what you'd take for gentlemen, are we?" Julian said.

  "Considering how some of the gentlemen in this city behave, that's almost a recommendation," Miranda said dryly. "Besides, do you mean to tell me that absolutely every officer in the army started out a gentleman?"

  "No," Julian admitted. "Major Skleros, he came up from the ranks."

  "As you can tell every time he opens his mouth," Ascanius said.

  "But that's different," Julian concluded.

  "How?" Miranda asked sharply.

  "He earned it," Julian said. "He was the first man over the ramparts at Cimmeria. He killed a dozen men to save old Lord Commenae's life. He earned the leap. Someone didn't just point their finger at him and make him an officer."

  "Is that what you think I'm doing?" Miranda asked.

  "I..." Julian looked away. "I don't think we've earned it."

  "I do," Ascanius said. "Marching up and down the mountains, freezing, bleeding, killing. We've earned this as much as any man."

  "Then you'll take it?"

  "No," Ascanius said firmly.

  "Why not?" Miranda demanded.

  "Because I don't want to get chained here," Ascanius said. "I'm tired of being stuck taking orders; I've been taking orders all my life. I want to be free."

  "And I want to do this job well," Miranda said. "And to do that I need someone on my side, at least to start with. I'm not asking you to serve for twenty years just...help me, for a while, until I find my feet. Please. Who else can I ask? Lord Commenae? Please. You're the only soldiers I know whom I can trust."

  The two men looked at one another, Ascanius' black eyes locking with Julian's hazel ones.

  Ascanius sighed. "All right, sir, we're your men. Orders?"

  Miranda smiled. "Thank you, Captain Posci, and you Captain Dalassena. I won't forget this. Now then, shall we go see why the Lady Commenae suddenly wishes to visit me?"

  Ascanius and Julian moved swiftly down the stairs. Miranda and Octavia followed at a more sedate pace until the sounds of their footfalls had disappeared from the stairs.

  Miranda arrived in Lord Quirian's dining room to find slaves hurriedly clearing the room for her, under Lord Quirian's personal supervision.

  "Ah, Commander of the Army," Quirian declared, sweeping a grandiose bow in her direction. "How good of you to grace us with your presence."

  Miranda sighed. "I was worried, when I accepted His Majesty's offer, that you might grow angry at my choice. Clearly I should have been more concerned that you would grow witty over it."

  Quirian chuckled. "You must surely concede, Filia, that there is something amusing in the thought of a young lady from your humble background, who disdains violence and despises the pomp in which the military glories, should be placed at the head of that same mili
tary ahead of so many great lords of august families."

  "I am glad that I am causing you all so much good cheer," Miranda muttered. "Thank you, my lord, for allowing me the use of the room."

  "Not at all, my dear, not at all," Quirian said. "I find myself rather curious as to see how you handle this."

  "Handle what?" Miranda asked. "Lady Commenae has not even said why she has come."

  "No, but I have an idea," Quirian replied. "I will leave you to it, Filia Commander, good luck." He smiled, and then bowed himself out, ushering his slaves and guards before him.

  Miranda settled herself down on the settee, with Octavia beside her and Julian standing over her left shoulder, one hand upon the hilt of his sword.

  There they waited, silent and expectant, until the doors to the atrium opened and Ascanius Posci strode in.

  "The Lady Commenae, sir."

  "Thank you, captain," Miranda murmured as Ascanius took up a station hovering over her right shoulder.

  The Lady Commenae swept in as though this were her house, and not the domain of one of her husband's chief rivals. She was wearing a one-shouldered blue chiton dress, with a pattern of golden leaves around her waist and her skirt gathered in luxurious folds that rustled as she walked. Her arms, long, pale and lovely, were completely bare to the world, save for the sapphire bracelet she wore clasped around her right wrist, which matched the sapphire necklace that sat tight around her throat. Her golden hair was decorated in a thousand thousand ringlets, held together by pins tipped with tiny diamonds which sparkled in the candlelight, that hung down the sides of her face, framing her high cheekbones and her full lips, while the preponderance of blue in dress and jewellery enhanced the lustre of her blue eyes.

  She was, without a doubt, quite the beauty; the sort that inspired sculpture and fine art, and Miranda would have been surprised if her husband or even her father had not commissioned some such art to immortalise her splendour. And yet...as a matter of personal preference Miranda found that there was something lacking in her. Or perhaps it was better to say Miranda found that there was something too much there. A...worldliness, a certain grime that lay behind the marble beauty. Though in a contest founded purely upon outward looks she would trounce Octavia in short order, and run Portia a close fight no matter the outcome, in other respects she would never be their equal. She gave off none of Octavia's warmth, none of Portia's innocence and good-nature. There was no sparkle of friendship in those eyes, no shine of kindness in her smile. Lady Commenae was beautiful, but she was not lovely, and Miranda looked for the latter more than the former.