In short, there’s just so much going on during these busy final days before the Wedding. I have no idea how we manage to keep up with everything and retain our sanity—all under the watchful eyes of the First Priestess and Priest of Amrevet-Ra.
On top of everything else, it’s getting more and more difficult for Aeson and me to maintain the traditional decorum and distance between us, to keep away from each other, and to wait.
But at last, the morning of Red Amrevet 5 dawns, the day of the Gifts Assembly.
I wake up with a jolt, just after sixth hour of Ra, with the thrilling awareness that we have entered our final phase. . . .
Four days left until our Wedding Day.
And today is going to be amazing.
Chapter 50
Feeling energized by anticipation, I shower, throw on some basic clothes—ignoring Aranit’s chosen outfit laid out for me, and not bothering with anything fancy since I’ll be changing outfits multiple times today—and head for the workroom to meet Aeson for eos bread.
It’s almost seventh hour, and no one else is here except for Anu who’s just arrived for the day, and two unfamiliar astra daimon still on their night shift processing the SPC data. I should mention that this has become the new routine—there’s always someone in the workroom, watching the alien grids and receiving data, vigilant to any changes.
The usual Imperial Palace staff is here too, setting up the eos bread service stations, and starting to prep the various morning dishes.
“Nefero eos,” I say to everyone in an upbeat tone. Anu mumbles his usual reply, and the two daimon give me courteous greetings before returning to their computer screens.
Where are you, Aeson? I think.
Just as I pour myself a large mug of fresh lvikao, a servant arrives, bearing a formal invitation to me, from the Imperatris. I open the gilded scroll and see that Devora Kassiopei has chosen this afternoon for our formal Meeting.
My heartbeat speeds up with a jolt of nerves. . . .
According to Imperial Wedding protocol, the Bride must meet with the current Imperatris privately, so that they can discuss “delicate matters.” This Meeting is mandatory, but it is not officially added to the schedule, since the Imperatris is supposed to pick the moment, time and day, based on an arbitrary sense of when she feels I’m ready for it.
I don’t even know what that means, but I assume that our Meeting will be very highly personal and touch on intimate subjects pertaining to her son.
Oh, dear lord, help me. . . .
I double-check the scroll, and it says I am expected at the Imperial Quarters of the Imperatris at first hour of Khe. This gives us about two hours of private conversation before I must return here and start getting ready for the Gifts Assembly which is scheduled for sixth hour. As usual, it will require three hours for the spa treatments, hair and makeup, and other fussing, before such a formal event. . . .
Meanwhile, as I’ve been informed by the Venerable Therutat, I recall that the dress code is festive casual for the Meeting with my future Mother-in-Law.
And so, just like that, my exciting, busy day has been made even more complicated. At least it’s the gentle, loving Devora that I will be meeting, not the Imperator, so it should go well, regardless of the weird content of our conversation.
Or, so I tell myself, to calm my galloping heartbeat and nerves. . . .
Consumed with flights of imagination, I fill a plate with eos food, just as Aeson comes in to join me for this meal.
Aeson looks sharp this morning, in a fine white shirt with a gilded collar and dark pants. I catch the faint musky scent of his freshly applied aftershave, and it gives me a sensual frisson as he leans in to kiss me deeply. His eyes are full of excitement, similar to mine.
“You look nice.” I smile.
“I have important Bridegroom business to handle,” he replies with a playful smile.
“Then eat!” I say, pointing to the meal service, and he goes to fill his plate.
“So, does your Bridegroom event take up most of this morning?” I try cleverly to pry forth some of the likely amusing details.
“You know I can’t tell you,” he replies with a chuckle. “What about your own?” And he nods at the scroll invitation lying on the table nearby.
Oh no, I think. He probably recognizes his Mother’s Imperial Seal.
A minor flush of heat fills my cheeks. I can’t tell him about meeting his mother—at least not here in the workroom in front of all these people—since it will break Wedding Protocol. Admittedly, over these several weeks we’ve both confessed our events and shared the details of some of our separate activities in private—especially the major ones where it’s impossible to avoid it due to media coverage. But in this case, I have a funny, awkward feeling that Aeson doesn’t need to know what his mother and I will be talking about.
Fortunately, Aeson doesn’t press the subject but gulps down his food. “May your own mysterious Bride business go smoothly. . . . I’ll see you tonight for our big event, im amrevu,” he whispers in my ear and gives me a squeeze and caress before heading out in haste.
I spend the morning picking out a suitable, nice-but-casual outfit and stressing about the Meeting—but not too much—then worrying again. At last I get ready to head to the Imperial Quarters, just before first hour of Khe.
For my Meeting with the Imperatris I’m wearing a shimmering blue dress with a translucent golden outer layer, and my hair is pulled back in an attractive loose updo, courtesy of Aranit’s hairdresser skills. My four personal guards and Tuar fall in line behind me at the corridor doors, and they escort me up the elevator to the splendor of the mauve and cream marble of the main lobby of the Imperial floor, then remain behind as I enter the Quarters.
“My Imperial Lady Gwen, the Sovereign Lady awaits.” A high-ranking servant nods with courtesy, then escorts me through the familiar antechamber, past the reception wall of thrones to one of the many doors near the rear.
“The Quarters of the Imperatris begin here,” he announces archly, continuing to walk before me through several turns of a narrow corridor and into a large airy chamber with delicate gilded columns and walls trimmed in white stone veined in mauve and purple. “Please wait here.”
He leaves and I remain standing, clutching my skirt with my fingers in order to calm my nerves.
Moments later, the Imperatris walks in with a smile that immediately warms my heart, and two servants come immediately after, bearing a small table and an aeojir tea service.
I perform a proper curtsey, smiling back at her in immediate relief.
See, it’s not so bad. . . . It’s just Devora, the same kind human being I already know, and whose son I love and adore.
“My dear child, come!” says Aeson’s mother, taking my slightly clammy, nervous hands into her warm and dry own, and then leads me to an elegant but comfortable sofa.
“Thank you for the gracious invitation, My Sovereign Lady,” I reply formally, as protocol dictates. “And so lovely to be here.”
“And I’m absolutely happy that you are here. It’s been such a busy time for you and for my son, with everything going on,” she says. “But finally, here you are. I wanted to give you enough time to settle into your Bridal obligations, before calling you in for this important part of your Wedding preparation. We have so much to talk about!”
I nod, smiling, glancing around the beautiful chamber with its arched, gold-paned windows overlooking a bright daytime vista and the distant gardens below. A few steps away the servants finish brewing our tea and arranging plates of pastries and fruit, then slip away quietly.
Devora waits for them to be gone, then turns to me, her expression becoming more solemn, but still warm with affection.
“Now then, my dear Gwen, before we begin—how are you? And I mean, truly, how do you feel, after so much pressure and difficult, horrible things happening? Are you holding up? Because I can hardly imagine how you managed to endure so much. . . .”
�
�Thank you, I’m doing okay,” I admit, releasing a held breath. And then I tell her, to the best of my ability, about the past weeks since the Games. I try to stick to facts and not bring up the turmoil that thoughts of my dead mother continue to evoke in me, not to mention the anxiety about my family, the current world-ending events . . . everything.
Devora pours a cup of amber liquid and hands it to me, then pours her own. Since no servants are present, I notice she disdains any protocol.
“My Sovereign Lady,” I say, as my rambling words about my complicated feelings fade at last. “I know this is part of tradition, but what exactly is this meeting supposed to be?”
“Well,” Devora says gently. “I know the Venerable Therutat frightened you sufficiently, but I want to put you at ease.”
The Imperatris offers me a platter of fruit and nuts drenched in aromatic syrup. “Have a bite,” she says, using a serving utensil to fill my small plate. “You know, Aeson used to love these when he was a little boy.”
I take the delicacy, and at once my imagination conjures a sweet little boy with golden blond hair, happily eating the syrupy confection.
“I wish I could see him when he was little—he must’ve been adorable.”
Devora makes a happy sound. “Oh, he was! And quite a handful, too. . . . Fortunately, we have numerous video recordings of various key events throughout his life, both formal and casual. So many in fact that it’s almost like a progression, observing him growing up from a tiny infant with a loud cry to an uncontrollable toddler, a mischievous little boy, a serious and driven youth—you will definitely have a chance to watch those later.”
“Oh!” I exclaim. “Wow! I’d love to see all that!”
The Imperatris looks at me fondly. “So much to see,” she says, nodding. “So much joy and profound wonder is before you—awaiting both of you, together. And that’s what we will talk about. As his mother, I am biased—I adore my son.”
“I adore your son too,” I say softly.
“I know.” Devora sets her cup of aeojir down and reaches for one of my hands. “And as the Bride of Kassiopei, you are about to enter a profound and some might say divine relationship. It is my duty to talk with you about what to expect, what lies before you as a Kassiopei Wife.”
The Imperatris takes a deep breath, exhales gradually, looks at me with her caring expression. There is a moment of gentle, unthreatening silence, but my pulse picks up speed nevertheless.
“When I was young, and in your position, an Imperial Bride, I had this same conversation with the Imperatris at that time, Romhutat’s mother, the late and wonderful Hesper Kassiopei. She called me in to the Meeting and gave me advice and set me at ease before the Wedding. Now I want to do the same for you, my dear. And it goes beyond the requirements of tradition—this is my personal wish for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, still nervous despite her gentle words. “I appreciate it very much.”
“Now, you, a young Bride, probably have all kinds of questions about the Wedding itself, and maybe even concerns—and yes, I do mean about the Amrevet Night. Normally a mother would be there to help set your mind at ease, even though, I might assume, you already know the—necessary details of such intimacy between men and women.”
“Oh . . . yes, I do.” I try to smile, even as I feel my cheeks heating up. Oh dear God, is this going to be that kind of talk?
And then I think of Mom, who is not here—who will never be here to give me any talk. . . . Did Mom give me “the talk” at some point? I think she did, or at least tried, a few years ago, and I got all embarrassed and shut it down. . . .
Stop thinking about Mom. At least, now.
“Of course, you do,” Devora nods, appearing slightly embarrassed herself. “Please forgive my saying it, and I don’t mean to imply that you are uninformed in any way. It is merely to be sure you do know the basics.”
“Yes, I know,” I hurry to repeat. “And—I understand, thank you.”
“Wonderful. Then I’ll continue.” Devora touches my hand again then reaches up and pats my flushed cheek. She takes a deep breath.
“All right. Let me tell you about Kassiopei men. They are . . . passionate. That much is known—indeed, you probably know already. The rumors about this most ancient Imperial Dynasty tend to exaggerate many things about the bloodline, but not in this case. It is all true.”
I nod, then continue to stare at her with my utmost attention, while my flush rises.
“Now, passionate is an understatement.” Devora pauses for a moment and looks away, choosing her words. “They are relentless. There’s this overwhelming physical drive they have, a need . . . And at the same time, they are terribly virile. So much so that you will be with child immediately, and you will be with child always—”
“I’ve heard . . .” I interrupt on a whisper.
“—unless you take the proper precaution,” Devora finishes.
At once my mind goes into overdrive. I listen, stopping my breath.
“There is a remedy that the Imperial Wife has at her disposal,” Devora resumes, seeing my startled expression. “It is safe and it is formulated to work on the Kassiopei man’s—what do you call it—sperm. Normal male contraceptives are insufficient, so this is a specific substance you and I must take in advance of intimacy—which gives us a choice.”
“I see.”
“On your Amrevet Night, my dear, you will be offered a choice of two glasses from which to drink—in the form of refreshment, before you begin. There is a Golden Grail and a Blue Grail, and they will be sitting on a nightstand or table in your chamber as you get ready. One of them, the golden one, contains the powerful contraceptive that curbs the fertility of the Kassiopei Dynasty. The other—the blue—is simply a refreshing nutrient-enriched drink to promote your own health—and fertility, if you prefer to think of it that way.”
I nod, my lips parted with focus.
“And so, pick whichever one you prefer for that first night with my son,” Devora says. “If you don’t mind being with child at once, then by all means, drink the blue, and I will be overjoyed to expect my first grandchild. . . . If you don’t want to get pregnant immediately, then drink the golden goblet and enjoy the night without worry. Remember, there is no judgment here; it is completely up to you, and the Kassiopei men know and respect your choice in this matter also—no matter what else anyone might lead you to think.”
“So—Aeson will know about it? That I drank one of the goblets?” I ask.
Devora nods, smiling. “My advice is, don’t tell him which one you choose, at least not until the night is over. Less worry that way, for both of you. Worry is not a good thing when you make love.”
“And if I decide I want a child soon after, it will not be harmful later for a baby that I might’ve taken that contraceptive?”
“One application is good for five days, and if you don’t take another, it wears off completely in about three more days, after which you can safely try for a child,” Devora explains. “You can also then take the other drink—the one that promotes fertility—to flush out your system of any residual amounts of the substance to speed up the process.”
And then another worry hits me. “What if—what if I forget which one is which?” I mutter. “What if I take the wrong one? Gold or blue? I’m so nervous, I already forgot what you said earlier. . . .”
Devora shakes her head in amusement. “Ah. . . . Easy to remember: blue is Aeson’s color, and will give you Aeson’s baby.”
I laugh also, at my own nervousness. “Okay.”
“All clear now?” Devora squeezes my fingers with reassurance.
“I understand now why there must be a Meeting with the Imperatris,” I say.
“Exactly.” Devora chuckles. “And there’s more.”
“Oh?”
This is the point at which Devora proceeds to tell me something even more “delicate.”
“During your joyful time with your new Kassiopei Husband, you will find a cu
rious thing happening. And I’m not just talking about a woman’s pleasure. . . .” Devora takes another big breath. “During the act, Kassiopei males often . . . finish very quickly. Sometimes, before you do.”
I listen.
“Now, do not be alarmed,” the Imperatris continues. “With any other average population male, it might become a problem, but not with Kassiopei. They have almost no rest period. In other words, as soon as they are done—within a span of about five to ten heartbeats—they are ready to perform once more and can begin again, so it all works out as a single, almost non-stop act for you.”
Seeing my wide eyes, the Imperatris again smiles at me. “In short, you will have no interruption to your own physical fulfillment. The Kassiopei man will have you very well satisfied at the end of your night.”
I find that I’ve turned as red as a beet. My mind is trying to process what she just told me, but the oddity of it takes second place to my level of mortification.
“And on that note, I think the traditionally embarrassing, mandatory portion of our conversation is done,” Devora says with fondness, taking pity on me. “I remember how horridly embarrassed the young and uninformed Devora Argosaen was during her talk with the Sovereign Lady Hesper, all these years ago. . . .”
“Argosaen?” I ask.
“My birth Family name, before I married into Kassiopei,” the Imperatris replies. And then she reaches to her side where a small digital pad rests on the sofa. “Would you like to see Devora Argosaen in her Wedding Dress?”
“Oh, yes!” I exclaim, happy for the new turn of conversation.
And the Imperatris calls up an image of her younger self, innocent indeed. I stare at the impossibly beautiful maiden in a spectacular, long-sleeved, green Wedding Dress under a gold veil cascading to the floor behind her. As she looks at the camera, her eyes appear startled and exultant at the same time. . . .
“The dress is green,” I say, noticing. “How?”
“A lucky choice,” she explains. “My Quadrant is Green, but Quadrant Color is not one of the Imperial Bride’s options. However, Green happened to be the Imperial Court Color at that time.”
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