Miranda looked away. "I suppose we had best do some mingling ourselves, or we shall be frightfully bored before the meal is served. Unless you want to see if we can find a dark corner?"
Octavia giggled. "That might be more fun."
"No doubt, but it would be very embarrassing if we got caught."
Miranda noticed that, though none of Romana's remaining allies were present, Romana herself was, dressed in a plain dress of pale lavender, her hair simply arranged, devoid of ornament or jewellery of any kind. She was all alone, hands clasped behind her back, watching the hustle and bustle of the party swirl around her - not a man or woman stopped to speak to her, she might as well have been one of the servants - with apparent detachment, as if she were stood upon a small and lonely island watching the waves ebb and flow about her perch. She must have caught sight of Miranda even as Miranda saw her, because she gave Miranda a slight nod and began to walk towards her.
Miranda bowed her head. "Lady Romana."
Romana smiled, a smile filled with a melancholy, like a frost upon a rose. "You have no more need to bow to me, Commander, for you outrank me now, I do believe. I must say I am very glad to see you here. At least one person may be said to be on the side of His Majesty."
"Yes, I had noticed the composition of the room," Miranda muttered.
Romana said, "It is never a good thing when the Emperor has no party of supporters to call on, but it is even worse when those who do command support are so unabashedly ambitious."
"Do you include yourself in that?" Miranda asked.
Romana shook her head. "I am not ambitious, Commander, merely preordained."
Miranda snorted. "When you and I first met, my lady, you spoke of being friends, and of the hope that we might see eye to eye. I do not consider us to be friends, in fact I think that you will agree that there is not a single political matter of any weight on which we hold the same opinions...yet I admire you, and I wish you good fortune and a swift return to the status you have lost."
Romana smiled. "Thank you, Commander. For what it matters, if anything, I find you a very virtuous woman in your turn."
Miranda smiled. "Good luck, Lady Romana."
Romana's lip twitched upwards. "I am afraid, Lady Commander, that you should hoard up all your luck for yourself, and those you truly love. I will be most glad it that turns out not to be the case."
She curtsied, and then turned away, walking back one more into the press, isolated, alone, ignored.
Miranda saw Quirian enter through another door, drifting through the crowd until he reached the side of Prince Antiochus. The prince looked up at him expectantly, and Quirian had to bow not from respect but merely to whisper effectively in the prince's ear. Antiochus' face lit up with such glee that Miranda would have almost believed that he had become Emperor. He in turn whispered something to Messalina, who smirked, and cast a sideways glance towards Miranda. Quirian said something, but he was too far away and there were too many people talking in the room for Miranda to work it out.
Antiochus' companions dispersed, leaving him behind as they spread out across the room. Each one sought out a knot of people, and spread some news to Gellius, to Lord Maro and his son, to all the other clusters of guests scattered about. Then those clusters dispersed, or at least sent a man on his way, to spread the word further. And thus did whatever Quirian had told the prince spread across the banqueting hall. Miranda marked who was not told: such unfortunates were few enough in number, but they included Demodocus and Portia, as well as Miranda and Octavia themselves.
"Do you know what's going on?" Miranda asked.
Octavia shrugged. "I've no idea."
Miranda's eyes narrowed as she spotted Felix and Metella standing in the doorway. They were both armed. Why would that be? Does Quirian not trust the Palace Guard to keep him safe?
"Octavia, I need you to do something for me," Miranda murmured. "Can you go over and talk to Felix and Metella, and see if you can find out what's happening?”
"What about you?"
"I'm going to have a word with Quirian," Miranda said.
A look of concern entered Octavia's eyes. "Is everything okay?"
"I don't know," Miranda said. "That's what I want to find out."
Octavia nodded. "Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can." She pushed through the crowd, folding back her wings so that they were not buffeted by the press, towards where Felix and Metella stood on guard.
As she approached Lord Quirian, Miranda was fortunate that he drifted away from Prince Antiochus, saving her the trouble of having to approach them both at the same time, and deal with the prince's displeasure at having 'betrayed' him as she had. She had dealt with the issue thus far by avoiding the man, and she had no desire to finally confront the matter at this time, not when her head was so full of other concerns.
Quirian saw her coming, and his face assumed a beatific expression as she approached. "Filia Miranda. Is something amiss? You look rather perturbed?"
"What's going on?" Miranda demanded.
"Why, we are here to celebrate the Feast of Thetis, Filia, why else would so many fine folk be in attendance? It was upon this day, over three hundred years ago, that the Empress Thetis proscribed the Faith of Aegea and converted to the Novarian faith, paving the way for their supremacy in the land.”
"Yes, thank you my lord, I was not actually being so general," Miranda said. "I was referring to the news you brought to Prince Antiochus which is now steadily circulating around the room."
"Oh, that," Quirian said. "I wouldn't have thought that would interest you, Filia."
"The fact that you are armed interests me greatly," Miranda said, glancing up at the blade Semper Fidelis slung across Quirian's back. "As does the fact that you brought Felix and Metella."
"One can never be too careful."
"In the palace?" Miranda said. "I am not an idiot, my lord, I know you are up to something and I want to know what it is."
"I've no doubt you do, Filia," Quirian replied. "But in life, alas, we do not always get what we want. You taught me that lesson yourself, not too long ago."
Miranda's eyebrows rose. "I thought you weren't going to be petty about this?"
Quirian smiled. "I am being very far from petty, Filia, as you will find out in due course. But if I told you now, it would quite spoil the surprise His Highness has planned."
"So you will tell me nothing?"
"I will tell you one thing, Filia: this feast has always been regarded by the Church as a day of change. On this day, thousands of poor and luckless fellows will go to the temple of Bael, make offerings to the gods and pray to the king of heaven for a change in their fortunes. Be watchful, for on this day the fate even of crowned heads and great nations may take an abrupt turn, for good or ill."
"I see," Miranda growled, seeing nothing. "Thank you for that enlightening piece of information, my lord. Good day." She turned away, and began to walk towards Metella and Felix, hoping that Octavia had had better luck with them.
Octavia met her halfway, her face pale.
"Did you find anything out?"
"It's more than just Felix and Metella," Octavia said. "Aelia, Danaus, Telamon...I think all of the Lost are in the palace."
"All of them?" Miranda said. "That can't be right? Why?"
"I don't know, they wouldn't tell me," Octavia said. "I think...I'm not one of them any more, and they don't trust me because they know that I'm with you. But...Felix wouldn't meet my eyes and Metella... I know it's hard to tell with her, but I think she's upset about something. She keeps grabbing hold of her knife and then letting go of it, as though she's nervous. But I've never known anything make Metella nervous before. Miranda, something's going to happen here...I'm scared."
"So am I," Miranda confessed, feeling the ice grip the pit of her stomach. "Your sword is still in your room, isn't it?"
"Yes," Octavia said. "But I've sent for it, and for Ascanius and Julian, too."
"Good," Miranda said. She l
ooked around the room. The press was too thick, she couldn't see Portia or Demodocus anywhere. "I need you to find Portia and her husband, and then bring them over here at once, do you understand, they have to come with you. We’re leaving, all four of us. I’ll join you in a moment.”
"Where are we going?"
"Away from here," Miranda said. "Somewhere safer than this, less exposed. The Emperor's quarters, with that heavy door. Off you go, I'll catch up."
"Why don't you come with me?"
"I need to speak to Quirian again, first," Miranda said. She watched Octavia go, and then caught Romana's eye. The former princess tilted her head quizzically, and Miranda gestured for her to join her as she went back to Quirian, who had not moved and, indeed, looked as though he had been expecting her.
"Ah, Filia, back again," he said lightly. "I had no idea our separation pained you so much."
"You lied to me," Miranda hissed. "You told me you would accept my decision!"
"Have I not accepted your decision, unpalatable as it was?"
"Then what is going on?" Miranda said. "I know something is planned for today; if you mean to go against me, if you mean to hurt Portia or her husband I will stop you. I told you I would not allow any harm to come to them."
Quirian smiled sadly. "There was a time when I swore that I would protect all my dear friends the same way. Alas, as I told you, Filia, in life we do not always get what we fondly desire."
"Peace, good people, pray, let us have silence!" Antiochus yelled, and at once the room fell quiet, like the storm ending at the command of a god.
All eyes turned towards His Highness, who stood only a few paces in front of Demodocus and Portia. Messalina stood at Portia's left hand, holding the Empress close in a sisterly embrace that appeared perhaps a little too tight, judging by Portia's slightly nervous smile. Antiochus' men surrounded them, and Octavia was still at least fifteen feet away, and held fast in the press of other revellers who would not move aside for her.
"On behalf of my brother, His Imperial Majesty, and his most excellent and beautiful wife, I wish to thank all of you for joining us here, as we celebrate this Feast of Thetis," Antiochus declared, raising his goblet. "And of course, I would thank you for myself, and on behalf of my own beauty, my dear Messalina, who shall become my wife very soon.
"This is a holy day. An auspicious day. A day when we honour the gods who bless us and watch over us, who guard the Empire and make it prosperous. To the gods, long may they bless the Empire."
"Gods bless the Empire," the whole room took up the toast, save for Romana, Quirian, Octavia and Miranda.
"But this is more than just a celebration," Antiochus continued. "More than just a feast. This is also a day when we remember a great change that once shook this country, altered it irrevocably - and for the better."
Romana pursed her lips as Antiochus went on, "In this land we tend to look at change askance, but the example of Thetis shows that not all change is to be feared. Not all change is a bad thing. Some changes, after all, may lead to great improvement in the fortunes not only of individuals but of dynasties and nations. And so I thank you, on behalf of Messalina and myself, for coming here to bear witness as this country once more embarks upon a great and glorious change for the better."
More guards began to file into the room. Miranda saw that Ascanius and Julian were outside, but being detained upon the door.
"What's happening?" Miranda murmured, as a shiver ran down her spine.
"Change, my dear," Quirian replied. "The Feast of Thetis is soon to see a decision of great moment once again. You are present at the making of history."
Aula filled up up Antiochus' cup one more with wine. He raised it up above his head.
"All hail the Emperor," Prince Antiochus declared, before he drank deep.
The doors closed.
Miranda's eyes widened. "My lord?"
Quirian's face was impassive.
Miranda started towards Portia, but Quirian wrapped his iron grip around her waist and lifted her up into the air.
"What are you doing? Let go of me!" Miranda snapped. She struggled, her beat at him, she shocked him with lightning magic and burned him with fire and none of it seemed to make a blind bit of difference. She might have been attacking stone for all the good it did her.
"I cannot protect you unless you allow me to, Filia," Quirian whispered.
"No," Miranda cried as she strained in vain against his power. "Portia!"
"Long may he reign," Antiochus said. And then he cast aside his goblet of wine and whirled to face, his brother, producing a dagger from the folds of his toga and driving it into the Emperor's throat.
Portia screamed.
"Guards!" Romana yelled.
Antiochus laughed. "Yes, guards, guards! Do your duty!"
Major Otacilius, the fat and jowly commander of the Emperor's household troops, smiled as he bowed. "All hail the Emperor, long may he reign."
Demodocus collapsed to the floor, blood oozing from his mouth. Messalina's smile was savage was she raked Portia across the face with her long nails. Portia's scream of horror was turned into a shriek of pain as she clutched at her bleeding face. Messalina laughed, exultant, as she shoved Portia to the ground and kicked her in the belly.
Her brother and the other cronies of Prince Antiochus closed in around her, daggers in their hands.
"No!" Octavia yelled. "Get away from her!" Air magic erupted from her hands in a great torrent, as mighty as any storm, as swift any gale which rips up trees and tears down houses, and like those trees anyone who stood in her way was blown down or blasted aside by the great gust which Octavia hurled forth. It passed over Portia, but knocked down Messalina and Dio Verra and all the rest around her, blasting them across the room in all directions like toys hit by a child's ball.
Octavia ran through the press that she had parted, her wings outstretched, her eyes bright with courage. She planted herself across Portia where she lay upon the floor like a colossus bestriding the world, or a mother bear defending her cub from the sharp spears of the hunters. Octavia glanced towards Miranda, still writing in Quirian's unyielding grasp, and smiled, as if to say that all would be well, in spite of everything.
Oh, you sweet, brave, fool.
The soldiers of the guard descended on her, not to assist her in defending the Empress but to end both Portia and Octavia both. And Octavia fought them, all alone.
In that moment, as she struck out with her air magic in all directions, Miranda saw not only her lover, but the magical prodigy who had so impressed Quirian that he had offered her a place amongst his elite company, in spite of the fact that she had no stomach for war and no instinct for violence. But, with Portia in danger and foes all around, Octavia seemed to discover that instinct.
The guards charged for her, as if they meant to swarm her with sheer numbers, but Octavia withstood them all. She danced in between their spears, blasting out with air magic in all directions, using her wings as well as her hands as to send her foes flying this way and that, sending gawping equestrians scurrying for cover lest they be struck be guards unceremoniously hurled across the room. The iron they bore in their hands or wore as armour availed them not at all, though even a little iron was said to dull a mage's powers greatly. She turned this way and that, twisted forward and back, avoided the killing spears that lunged at her or were thrown at her, sending them back to their owners and then tossing her enemies away like broken dolls.
None could even get close to Portia. None could withstand Octavia. She was magnificent.
"Metella," Quirian drawled, sounding bored by the proceedings. "Bring this farce to a close."
Miranda's eyes widened. "Please, God, no."
"As you command, Lord Father," Metella murmured. Her eyes glowed as her body began to shine with magic. She appeared in front of Octavia faster than Miranda's eyes could follow, faster than Octavia could respond to.
Metella's hand was glowing with blue light as she rammed it i
nto Octavia's stomach.
"I'm sorry," Metella whispered, as Octavia's eyes flickered closed, and she collapsed into Metella's waiting arms.
Antiochus gasped, then he cried out in triumph. "Yes! Now finish off the bitch! Kill her, and the servant both!"
Metella looked at Prince Antiochus with contempt, and ignored his commands as she carried Octavia away. Many members of the Lost were in the room by now, at least thirty of them, and they received Octavia into their midst as though they meant to keep her safe.
Antiochus looked at Quirian, outrage etched upon his face, but Quirian shook his head silently and Prince Antiochus turned away. He advanced upon Portia, who lay on the ground by the side of her husband, her face bleeding, her blue eyes filled with terror and confusion as she stared upwards at her brother in law, the man who had murdered her husband.
"Antiochus?" she said. "I don't understand."
"No," he said lazily. "You were always stupid, Portia. And foolish, for thinking I would let you keep me from what is rightfully mine." He kicked her, in the belly, as if he hated her unborn child more than he hated her. He kicked her again and again, a look of vile fury on his face, and his partisans recovered themselves from Octavia's attack and joined him with fists and feet, pounding Portia while she tried in vain to shield herself with her arms, while she begged them to stop, while she screamed in pain, while she cried out for help.
But there were only partisans of Prince Antiochus in the room, and they offered no help; they only looked on impassively as the Empress was attacked by a mob determined to punish her from the crime of being an outsider.
Other daggers were out now, and other men and women were dying amidst shock and screaming. Whether they were men whose loyalty was in doubt, or personal scores being settled in the chaos, Miranda did not know. She could not bring herself to care, as she stared at Portia and at the jeering circle of assailants who surrounded her.
Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2) Page 42