“You don’t want to maximize your own pleasure in her death?”
“I’ll get an added bonus in how sad the countries will be that some poor Colonial Equality League member killed her, angry that she wouldn’t stand up for more Maruli rights under Pommierian law,” I say.
“The people have mostly embraced her,” Horatio agrees.
“Good. The sadder other people are, the happier I will be.”
“Then the happier I will be for you, Majesty.” Horatio nods his head down to me, and I revel in his sadistic thrills.
“Rion will be devastated, too.” I look carefully over my face one last time. “And that’s for the best. I will finish negotiating his marriage to the Princess of Celtia, and her dowry will allow Hortensia to continue her research into finding the recipe for Elixir of Immortality. Then I will not only be able to be beautiful for the rest of my life, I will live forever as Queen.”
“If that is your wish,” Horatio says.
I let out an indignant huff. “Do you think that is truly my wish, Horatio? It is far from my deepest wish, but it’s the only one I have left now. What else could I do?”
I glance around me, looking at the darkness that has swallowed my bedroom, and even, to some degree, my soul. “This is not the life I’ve always wanted. This is what I’ve been left with, now that there is no one left who will love me.”
“I might be able to love you,” Horatio says.
“Yes, thank you,” I reply. “Too bad you didn’t always feel that way, huh? You would never have been cursed to live the rest of your life on the other side of the mirror.”
“Perhaps Hortensia will allow me to come out one day,” he says. “Under your eternal rule.”
“Perhaps, but I doubt it.” I smile at him. “Once you are free from the mirror, there is no returning to your body. You are only alive because you are in the mirror, where your soul is kept from its final resting place. If I have Hortensia remove you, you will die.”
Horatio’s handsome face dims, but I don’t bother with him any longer.
It is time to go down to the throne room, where Ebony and Rion—and their pain and suffering—await.
For once, I am truly eager to see them.
*13*
Rion
I STAND AT THE BOTTOM of the stairs for Ebony, waiting for the moment she glides down to take hold of my hand.
The last two weeks have been nothing short of heaven, knowing she will be my bride and even Mother has accepted her.
“Rion.”
Ebony is here at last. I watch her walk toward me, and I am overcome with a sense of awe; I know Ebony is worried about the future, and she is also concerned about my mother. But every time I see her, especially as she looks at me with that smile of hers, I swear I can hear the song she carries in her heart just for me, and I forget everything else.
Thankfully, most of the news is good. Caryo has sent me weekly reports, and Marula is happy Ebony has been restored to her position; Caryo mentions that there are some who are asking what this means for our Empire, and, for now, thanks to Mother, I can only reply that the future is hopeful, if uncertain.
God himself tells us to take our lives step by step, and I know he does this to build trust between Himself and those here who would follow Him. I struggle with that, knowing that there are some places one must walk alone, and there are still more places where we will be forced to wait while God goes before us.
Ebony takes my hand; her palms no longer carry the blisters of hard work, but they still retain her strength. I place a kiss on her knuckles, letting my lips linger long enough to taste her.
“You look lovely,” I say.
“Thank you.” She adjusts her skirts. “I didn’t put on the corset, so I hope your mother doesn’t mind.”
“I’m sure she will, but she’s been good enough lately that she hasn’t said anything.”
“Well, that can’t last forever,” Ebony retorts, and I let out a small laugh.
“I’m not going to worry about it,” I say. “She’ll be upset with me soon enough, so she won’t have time to be upset with you.”
“What is it this time?” Ebony asks. “A team of naval ships to escort the Maruli tribe leaders out to Pommier for the wedding, perhaps? Or maybe a cake made from Espania, with all their rich cream and edible delicacies?”
“Not quite, but close.” I clench my fist behind me, nervous. “I’d like to take you on a honeymoon of sorts throughout Maruli territory. Mother will not be happy with my absence, especially after how long I was there last time, and how delayed I was.”
“You would do that for me?” Ebony asks, and I wish for a long moment that I could kiss her the way I want to—unabashedly and with blatant passion. I want to hold her against me, kissing her until she’s trembling with longing and senseless with desire.
Restraining myself for decorum’s sake is a necessary virtue, and she has no idea how high the cost of virtue is for me. Now that I know she loves me, there is nothing I want more than to join myself to her for all eternity.
And when she looks up at me, with her limpid eyes with their burning topaz, it’s enough to make me senseless.
“Of course,” I reply. “Pommier and Marula should both see you as their future Queen, but I know how much you miss your home.”
Ebony nods, and I watch as her eyes mist over in daydreams and secret wishes.
“It must be so different from when I was there last,” Ebony finally says.
“I’m sure it is,” I agree. Looking at her face, I want to tell her not to worry, but I feel it is not my place. While I am the regent of Marula, I am still Prince of Pommier. She is the princess who has lived outside of her home for so long, I don’t know how she will feel if I describe it to her now, even in the most loving way.
I have grown up seeing that the world is not fair, but I don’t want to prove it to Ebony right now.
With the time it took to travel across the seas, and the weeks between my return and now, it has been nearly two months since I left Marula. But I can still remember the embrace of its sunlight and its brisk weather. So much of Ebony reminds me of the freedom and power I’d found there—that risk and comfort, that calling and confiding, that awe and terror. The people there also seemed to reflect that balance of consistent inconsistency, too.
And perhaps that is what Ebony is more worried about; that the people she’d known would change too much before she was able to make it back there to see them.
“Well, if nothing else,” Ebony says with a playful smile, “that will ease my concerns about an early wedding upsetting your mother.”
“I am not as easily upset as you might think I am.”
Ebony and I turn to see Mother as she appears at the other end of the room. She seems to be in brighter spirits today, and her expression only grows brighter as Alfonse comes charging into the room, bearing a letter.
“Your Majesties,” he says, his voice breathless from his swift pace. “I have some terrible news.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Mother says. She smirks at Alfonse, and, considering the dark nature of his greeting, it seems odd to me that she’d be so amused by this turn of events.
Alfonse holds out a scrolled message, which I take and read.
“I have heard from your governor in Marula,” Alfonse says. “There has been an attack on a Pommierian ship. It seems the Mopana is behind it.”
“That’s awful!” Ebony’s eyes grow wide with shock and horror.
“From our reports, the Mopana are in talks with the Baobabi. They seem to be aligning against Pommier and the Marula,” Alfonse says.
“What a shame,” Mother says. Her voice is still calm, and perhaps even a little glad. “I will miss having the Southern Colonies as part of my empire.”
“We haven’t lost them yet.”
“Haven’t we, though?” Mother laughs bitterly. “Perhaps your god is not happy with your choice of bride and this is the price we must pay.”
“That’s rubbish, and beneath you.” I glare at her before I go back to reading the letter.
By the time I am finished, my hands are shaking. The letter I’ve been given is from Caryo himself, written in the Maruli’s scrawled language. From the shaky letters, I can tell he has been injured and he is rightfully outraged.
“Why would they attack us?” I ask. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“The Mopana have been fighting for a long time, haven’t they?” Alfonse asks. “They attacked our ship looking for supplies. I talked with several of the traders and their sailors who came back. They expect more issues as long as there is war between the Mopana and the Baobabi, but if there is peace, we might have more trouble as well.”
“The Mopana and Baobabi have often fought over the riverways,” Ebony says. Her voice is solemn and quiet. “In a dry year, it would be hard for them to resist fighting over the limited water.”
“There are some Maruli men and even women who seemed to have joined with the Mopana,” Alfonse says.
“That’s unlikely,” I say. “The Maruli have a pact with the Mopana not to get into territorial wars.”
“Not the entire nation,” Alfonse points out. “And it would be hard for them to agree with this, considering you are in Pommier at the moment, Highness.”
“My absence should not be an incentive for rebellion,” I insist. I run my hand through my hair, thinking of how things were when I left. All the tribes I’d visited had agreed to my rule, and some even welcomed it after I’d proven my ability, whether through their customs or by helping them or befriending them. It had taken many years of work for me to build a hopeful foundation for the Maruli down there.
“Well, what can you really expect from natives?” Mother scoffs. “Warmongers, all of them.”
“My father wasn’t,” Ebony says, gazing furiously at Mother. “He married you to avoid war with Pommier.”
“Pommier is a different class of enemy,” Mother argues. She puts her hands on her hips. “King Maru was right to give in to my suggestion. But we are not talking about the Maruli, who have become more civilized thanks to Pommier’s influence through trade. It’s your nation’s neighbors that are clearly overeager at the thought of a fight.”
“Mother,” I say, stepping in front of Ebony before she can further their own ongoing battle. “We should investigate.”
“Of course.” Mother looks back at Alfonse. “Tell the shipyard captains that all trade is forbidden with Marula until this matter is settled.”
“You can’t punish Marula for this matter.” I look back at the letter.
Something about this entire situation doesn’t seem right, but I don’t know exactly what it is. And if Caryo is injured as I suspect, it is more important than ever that I do something.
“What do you recommend we do then, Prince Rion?” Mother crosses her arms over her chest and juts out her chin.
I hate it when she calls me “Prince Rion,” as if she is pitting herself against me.
Ebony looks up at me hopelessly. “What do you think?” she asks.
She doesn’t know what to do, and now she is looking to me to save her people—and her family. Caryo is already injured, and I didn’t give him any direction for dealing with our warring neighbors.
The timing on this couldn’t have been worse, either. Ebony and I are engaged, but our wedding was meant to be over a year away, according to the usual Pommierian tradition, and even with negotiations, Mother was not going to let it happen anytime soon.
There is still something that doesn’t seem right, but I ...
I look over at Mother, who is still strangely happy at Alfonse’s interruption.
“If there is a way you can avoid the war with Mopana, then we should do it,” Alfonse says.
My hand tightens around Caryo’s letter. “I will have to go investigate and help,” I say.
There is nothing but silence for a moment, then Ebony nods, and Mother huffs.
“Oh? You think it’s necessary?”
“I do.” I look over at Ebony. “I’m sorry for this.”
“It’s all right,” Ebony says. “We were thinking of going to Marula anyway, right? We can just get married and leave together.”
There’s a hopeful note in her voice, I love this about her. She is determined to make this into a good thing, or to use this uncertain darkness to bring about light.
I look over at Mother. “I think we can do that, right, Mother—”
“Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“No.” Mother shakes her head once, but firmly. “I have already given you plenty on this measure, Rion. I allowed you to choose your bride, despite better offers for the kingdom, and these past few weeks I have done all that you’ve asked and more to prepare Ebony for the future.”
“But—”
“And haven’t I, despite the past, tried to make everything right between us?” Mother looks over at Ebony now. “Do you feel that I’ve wronged you at all in these last few weeks? Have I not accepted you as my son’s future bride?”
Ebony hesitates slightly, and I am aware she is uncomfortable with all of us—me, Mother, and Alfonse—all looking at her.
Mother rolls her eyes. “Typical. Ebony doesn’t want to give Pommier the wedding it deserves, does she?”
“Mother, please.” I shake my head. “The wedding doesn’t matter as much as the people.”
“It matters plenty,” Mother says. She gestures toward the message in my hand. “You’re right. I did rush my wedding with King Maru. Are these not the fruits of that poorly sown seed?”
“I hardly think—”
“My son, for the last several weeks, there has been nothing but talk of your wedding to the princess.” Mother’s voice has a hardened edge as she says, “princess,” but I let it slide as she focuses on me.
“Are you going to deprive them of a proper wedding? We were going to call the Pope,” Mother says. “We were going to decorate and celebrate and feast and make a big show of things—even more than we did for your return ball! The people are expecting a grand wedding, and we, as their leaders, need to be aware of their expectations.”
She narrows her gaze at Ebony. “Your bride would surely not disagree. This is a boon for your reputation. How can anyone be mad at a prince and princess when they are celebrating their union? At a time when we face possible war with the Mopana and the Baobabi, this is crucial to give the people hope.”
Mother’s demeanor makes me nervous. She is angry and passionate, and where once her pleas were able to make her look prettier than ever, now she just looks older. She looks more like a mother who is waiting for the chance to prove herself to me as much as she is begging me not to forget all I’ve learned about diplomacy.
“Ebony?” I reach over and take her hand.
“But if you go, what will happen?” Ebony asks.
“Nothing will happen that should worry you. I will take some soldiers down to Marula and see what the situation is,” I tell her. “It shouldn’t take more than a month.”
“A month?” Ebony looks from me to Mother, and then back at me. “But you just got home a few weeks ago.”
“And I will come back as quickly as possible, I promise.”
Ebony’s topaz eyes go wide, as if it had only just occurred to her that I could be killed or worse while I am investigating an act of war. She seems so innocent. I feel like the words are being ripped from my soul as I stare at her. I hate that I must break her heart to save her nation, especially since I have to break my own in the process.
“Please.” I take a step closer to her, putting my hands on her shoulders. “Please, I need to leave, Ebony. I need to make sure our people are safe.”
“Can’t you send someone else?”
I don’t want to tell her the unease I feel at this information. It’s hard to tell her that I suspect there is something more that’s going on. How could I explain it to Ebony? And even if I could, how co
uld I tell her that her family members might be in danger because of me? Caryo didn’t admit to his injury, but it is as clear to me from his penmanship as the color of the sky.
If I am responsible, I need to be there to take care of things. If I am not—and I hope I am not—I need to be there to make the people who are responsible pay, so this kind of event never happens again.
“But, Rion ... ” Ebony’s voice goes even softer. “What will happen while you’re away?”
“Why would you even worry about that?” Mother interjects. “I will be here, same as always, and the kingdom will be as safe as ever.”
Ebony bites her lip. “What about me?” she asks.
Inspiration strikes. “You can work on how to run the kingdom,” I say. “You can take this time to use it as a practice run for when we are married. Mother will help you, won’t you?”
Mother’s face twists with revulsion. “I do not share power, Rion.”
“But I do,” I say. “While I’m gone, Ebony will act as my ambassador, and, that way, she will be safe. And you’ll be able to plan the wedding.”
“I don’t know,” Ebony says. “I still think that—”
“Oh, Ebony, please,” Mother says. Her voice is saccharine. “We can keep you safe. If you are Rion’s chosen ambassador, you will be fine.”
Mother turns to me. “I know my past behavior has given you some cause for concern, especially given Ebony’s treatment here in the last few years. But trust me, Rion. I will do my best to make everything up to you, if you will only let me try.”
We are all quiet until Ebony nods. I can tell from the look on her face she is still uncertain, but I love her more than ever as she proves she will not let Marula suffer, and, if they need me, she will not keep me from them.
*14*
Ebony
“MISS EBONY, YOU DON’T need to keep doing that now. Fabrice will be upset if you ruin your gown with that polish.” Vi gives me a stern look as I polish the frame of the mirror in my room.
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