“Aeson’s Grandfather?”
“Yes, Etamharat Kassiopei was the Imperator still, and his Court was Green.” Devora sighs. “A good man, I miss him terribly.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “Aeson told me how his Grandfather died, also during a mission to Ae-Leiterra.”
“Yes . . . it was not too long ago. Or—maybe somewhat long, I cannot remember the year now. I assume you’ve been told that a similar thing happened to my son?”
I nod. “What about the Grandmother? Hesper, the Imperatris? What happened to her? How did she die?”
Devora frowns and squeezes her eyes shut momentarily, then looks at me. “Oh Gwen, she was gone far too young. . . . She died first, before he did, just a few years earlier in a tragic accident, and Etamharat lost the will to live, abdicated the Imperial Throne much too early, before his time . . . and it likely contributed to the events that ultimately cost him his life.” She pauses. “We probably shouldn’t be talking about such sad topics today; it might even be bad luck. So, let me just say that Aeson’s Imperial Grandparents were both wonderful people and you will learn all about them at another time.”
“Of course.” I nod, then pursue daringly. “What about the non-Imperial side?”
“You mean, my parents?” Devora smiles in relief. “They’re both fine, and living at their favorite country estate outside Poseidon. To be honest, they prefer to be as far away from my Husband’s Court as possible.”
I can’t believe she just said that! I hold back a laugh.
“You will of course meet them very soon, as they will be attending the Wedding. I believe you’ll find them to be easy and friendly, and my father at least a little hard of hearing. But, not intimidating in the least.”
“I really look forward to it,” I say.
“Now then,” Devora says, patting my arm in a relaxed manner. “How about another cup of aeojir? We still have time, and I’ll tell you an amusing thing or two about what to expect on your Wedding Day during the Ceremony.”
“Yes, another cup, please, and I’d love to hear any other advice. Then I should probably be getting back,” I reply, sensing that I can relax also.
Now that the embarrassing worst is over, I can admit to myself that my Meeting with the Imperatris has been a success.
Chapter 51
The Imperatris and I talk a few minutes more, and then Devora gives me a motherly hug and kisses me soundly on my cheek before I head back to my own Quarters on the Imperial Crown Prince’s floor below.
Soon, it’s third hour, and my preparations for the fancy night event begin. As usual, the servants arrive and the spa treatments happen. I am soaked, exfoliated, tweezed and tortured the cosmetic way, then comes my haute couture hair and High Court makeup applied by Kem, under the direction of Consul Denu who makes exquisite selections of evening colors on my behalf. Dramatic dark eyes, and lips painted like wine with a shimmer of metallic violet, blue, and silver under certain lights give my face high contrast. My hair is formed into a circular crown and sculpted in layers, then embellished with crystals swinging on tiny chains.
My dress for this event is lapis lazuli blue to honor my Bridegroom’s Court Colors, and he will be wearing the same to match. Since tonight is going to be our Court as an Imperial Couple—even though the Imperator and Imperatris will make an appearance—the Court Colors will be Blue for everyone.
I put on the spectacular dress that has a dark under-layer sheath of lapis blue, and a tulle outer layer of shimmering metallic silver with a faint hint of the palest blue imaginable. The skirt is long but not very wide, flaring gradually to the floor like a fall of sea foam. It shimmers with rainbow colors when I move, and my blue shoes with medium heels and pointed metallic toes peek out from underneath with every step.
Tonight, I wear a magnificent silver necklace encrusted with sapphires and matching chandelier earrings. They are my official Gift from my future Father-in-Law, the Imperator, delivered to me in a bejeweled box by a ranking servant an hour earlier—yes, another gift not to be refused. Even as I put them on, I experience a scary moment wondering if the jewelry is poisoned, or bugged with listening devices, or cursed by arcane methods in some malicious way, or all of the above. . . .
And then I remind myself, the Imperator still needs me.
The idea calms me down sufficiently to wear the jewels without much further thought. Even if they are imbedded with surveillance devices (which is most likely), I’m aware of the possibility and can take the necessary precautions if a confidential situation arises.
Aeson arrives a few minutes before sixth hour of Khe, to escort me to our Gifts Assembly.
Oh, dear lord in heaven. . . .
He is so breathtakingly handsome that, in that first moment as he enters the room, I feel a sudden constriction in my chest. It’s as if something punches me in the gut with awe. . . . The feeling overcomes me to such a degree that for one strange instant it hurts to look at him. . . .
I want him so much. . . .
Aeson is wearing an expensive jacket and pants of dark lapis blue, and a wide Egyptian-style wesekh collar of sapphires to match mine—his own Gift from the Imperator, apparently. His sun-hair is brushed back to a glossy shine, and a small coiled serpent emblem in silver rests against his forehead—the serpent at rest, curled in a circular spiral, is the Lesser Uraeus symbol of Secondary Imperial Power of the Imperial Crown Prince.
But the most amazing thing is the expression in his eyes as he sees me. He comes alive with glorious joyful energy, bursting with something indescribable. . . .
“Gwen!” Aeson nears me and takes my hands as I stand up to meet him.
Electricity sparks as our fingers touch. . . .
“You are beautiful . . .” we both whisper to each other, almost in unison.
And then we both start to laugh, as the weird intensity dissipates.
He notices my matching jewelry, from the same set as his own. “Imperial gift?”
“Imperial gift.”
He makes a small sound and shakes his head, taps one finger at his own sapphire collar.
I widen my eyes in reply, also with the intent to convey meaning.
It’s clear, we both understand each other.
Speaking of gifts—did I mention that Aeson and I still haven’t finalized what we’re going to say in public about our love gifts to one another?
Because Aeson—the wonderful, perfectly attentive, paragon of a loving fiancé—still has not given me, his chosen Bride, a proper, traditional Atlantean love gift!
And yes, I realize this is trivial and ridiculous. After all, he’s already given me the world in every sense, including his most prized possession, the black armband. But it was technically a loan, not a valid gift. That unique hero’s honor is non-transferable and therefore not permitted.
Personally, I don’t need anything . . . but the public does. Apparently, Atlantida still expects and needs to know what kind of love gifts we’ve exchanged.
Poor Aeson. . . . He probably forgot about it once again, being so busy with things that are a thousand times more important.
Yet, even now, I’m stupidly embarrassed to ask him about it.
“How was your day?” I ask playfully, to distract myself from the silly, nagging thought of love gifts and forgetful men.
He merely smiles at me, raising one brow, and there is a vibrant sparkle in his eyes.
“Ready to go?” he asks, pressing my fingers in his warm large ones.
I nod, my own lingering smile an automatic response to his high-energy presence, and we walk together to the doors of our Quarters, where our retinue of guards falls in line around us.
The Gifts Assembly is a major Court event, and as such, is held in one of the larger venues of the Imperial Palace complex. Our destination tonight is the Mehet Rotunda, a large round building with an exquisite, translucent mauve glass dome located on the northern end of the immense complex.
One of its features, that stunning cryst
alline ceiling, is currently lit up like a cabochon ruby jewel with the early radiance of Hel’s sunset. Truly, an amazing sight—to see the teal light dissolve into the prism of the rosy, glasslike surface, and reflect back a plum and deep violet glow. . . .
Heavily guarded, we pass through the park and gardens, and approach the Rotunda, past crowds of gathering courtiers, directly into the VIP entrance.
We enter a short corridor, then pause at the small secret door that will take us to one of the four Imperial access points placed at equal distances around the grand chamber for a dramatic entrance.
Precisely at sixth hour, we are to enter, together.
Our guards fall back, taking their places at the small door next to the already stationed Imperial guards with floor-length gilded staffs. It means the Imperator himself and the Imperatris are already inside. . . .
Bell tones pierce the silence. They are followed by a series of profound musical sounds reminiscent of deep bass, horns, and oboe that blend together to form a C Major chord of harmonious majesty.
It is our cue.
Aeson glances into my eyes with fierce intensity. “Ready?”
I nod, with a tiny confident smile, and place my hand, palm down over his proffered own, as we proceed forward.
We walk through the narrow corridor and emerge into a brilliantly lit, round chamber, a world of subtle mauve light filled with people wearing all shades of blue to honor us. The Rotunda interior is immense, its pale marble walls veined with hairlines of gold. There are no windows, and none are necessary due to the glory of the cupola ceiling overhead. Our Throne Seats are against the wall directly to the left from our entry point, and a spotlight is cast from on-high to illuminate us.
The Imperator and the Imperatris are seated on similar Thrones far across from us, against the opposite wall of this chamber. Before we may take our seats, we must cross the room to greet them.
To cross the chamber, we have to navigate one of several narrow red paths demarcated by the mosaic floor. Two such red paths bisect the chamber, forming a cross, and two others circle it, following the circumference of the room—one nearer the center, the other nearer to the walls.
Meanwhile, the room itself is filled with members of the Court. Formally dressed, bejeweled men and women crowd in every spot along the floor that does not have the red stone color. I’m reminded of the grand Pharikoneon chamber where the Imperial Assemblies are held, with its color-coded floor designations for High, Middle, and Low Court. There are none such here, only similar red paths, so that the three levels of Court can mingle in the four middle portions within the “donut” shape, but may not step on the red tiles once the formal Assembly event has started.
The very center part of the room, the hub, is occupied by an interesting three-tier round table, a sort of circular stepped pyramid shape. I’ve been told that it is called the Tree of Gifts.
The purpose of this strange table is to hold all the numerous gifts that everyone in Court has brought us today.
Let me repeat that—everyone in this room has come bearing a gift for the Crown Prince and his Bride. That’s why they call it a Gifts Assembly.
In other words, it’s the world’s biggest, most formal Bridal Shower.
Aeson and I slowly walk along the round exterior path, illuminated by the moving spotlight that follows us, past the Court of Atlantida. We are on display, and stares and whispers come from all directions, together with smiles and soft aahs of appreciation.
We reach the opposite wall of the chamber and stop before the golden Thrones where Romhutat Kassiopei, the Archaeon Imperator, and Devora Kassiopei the Archaeona Imperatris, sit motionless, like beautiful dolls, watching us.
The Imperator’s face is his usual inscrutable cold mask of power that he wears in public. Today however, in honor of his son’s Court, he has donned a blue robe and blue Imperial Crown headdress with the Uraeus serpent rising from his forehead.
Next to him, the Imperatris wears a pale blue gown the color of metallic sky, with a matching Crown. Unlike her spouse, her expression is lively as she looks at us, and there is a faint warm smile along her sculpted lips as she catches my gaze.
“My Imperial Father, My Imperial Mother,” Aeson says, bowing, then looking at his parents. “My Bride and I thank you, My Father, for the generous gifts of these sapphire jewels that we both wear tonight.”
“My Sovereign Lord, My Sovereign Lady,” I echo him, after performing my own curtsey. “My Sovereign Lord, I thank you for these beautiful gifts.”
“I am pleased,” the Imperator says with the smallest nod but without a change in his expression.
“My gift to both of you rests on the Tree of Gifts,” says the Imperatris with a smile. And she points one elegant finger in the direction of the tiered round table. I turn to glance there and notice that there is a small blue box sitting on the top tier. It is the only item on the Tree of Gifts so far.
Now, I recall that this is the way it works: traditionally, everyone present must come before us with a proper courtly bow and then walk to the Tree of Gifts and deposit their gift somewhere along the table, but in a pleasing pattern. As more and more people set down their gifts, they must take care to arrange the placement of their boxes and other unusually shaped items in some kind of artistic order. When finished, the Tree of Gifts becomes an artful display, and must remain this way untouched for the rest of the night and all of the remaining days before the Wedding.
We can admire it privately, and so can the visiting public, starting tomorrow, as the Tree of Gifts will be guarded so that no one might tamper with it. But we may not touch our gifts until the morning of the Wedding Day when they will be removed from the Rotunda and delivered en masse to our Quarters.
Such is the Imperial nuptial tradition in Atlantida. I find it kind of fascinating, and know to expect it, having been instructed in advance that the Imperatris traditionally places the first gift.
Now that we’ve thanked the Imperial parents, Aeson and I continue walking around the circular path to return to our original spot where we entered and take our own Throne seats. The reason for this long trip around the room is for all of the Court to see us, so we give them their show and receive appreciation in return.
Once we take our seats, Aeson looks at me and smiles.
And then he turns to the room, looking out over an ocean of blue, and speaks in a resonant voice, uttering these very formal words: “My Court Opens.”
Momentous words for the Crown Prince.
Likely, it’s the first time Aeson has been permitted to use them in a formal setting, with his father still reigning as Imperator.
At once the deep musical tones sound, but they are drowned out in applause. With this change in tone comes laughter, conversation, and apparently everyone is free to move about. The presentation of gifts is about to begin. . . .
As all of this is happening, I search the crowd for familiar faces. I’m pretty sure that both Gracie and Gordie are supposed to be here, and so are most of my friends. Normally, the Bride’s Family, and in particular her parents, are required by tradition to be the next in line to present their gifts.
But my parents are not here. And as for my siblings, I don’t know if they are participating in this thing, though I had warned them about it.
And then I see them. . . . Gracie, in a pretty aqua blue dress, and Gordie in a grey-blue, nice formal jacket, step forward with big smiles and some awkwardness—Gordie in particular.
Gracie grabs our brother’s hand and pulls him after her, as she steps on the red path before our Thrones and performs a passable curtsey.
“We have presents for you, Gwenie, and for you, Aes—I mean, My Imperial Lady, and My Imperial Lord!”
And sure enough, I see she is holding a little violet satchel, and Gordie has something in his hands too.
Aeson watches in amusement as Gordie clears his throat and then does something bow-like with his head and shuffles one foot. As for me, I barely keep my mout
h straight.
But protocol demands it, so I simply nod at Gee Three and Gee Four, without saying a word, and they turn around and take the red path that bisects the room, heading toward the Tree of Gifts.
My sister and brother get to be the first people to place their gifts on the arrangement, next to the Imperatris’s blue box. Gracie even pauses to fluff the tassel and ribbons on hers.
And then the rest of the Court follows.
People start approaching us, with smiles and proper curtseys and bows, and then head to the Tree of Gifts to add their contribution. The arrangement grows in seconds, and I marvel from a distance seeing it take shape like a sparkling coral reef of shimmering colors. This thing really is a living artwork in progress.
Over the next hour, all of the present Court passes before our seats. Many of the ladies are now familiar to me from my earlier Bridal event. I nod and acknowledge everyone I recognize, and pretend politely when it comes to the rest.
At one point I observe that while the Fuorai Family is here, namely First Lady Vahiz and her spouse, there’s a noticeable absence of Lady Tiri. According to protocol, since I’ve dismissed her, she’s not allowed to attend any of my functions until—or if—I formally grant her the renewal of my good graces and permission to return. It’s entirely up to me. As I watch the parade of Courtiers, I allow myself a moment of not-so-nice satisfaction, knowing that I wield this insane social power. Maybe I’ll let her come to the Wedding. . . .
But the “mean girl” in me is very rudimentary, and I let her fade away as soon as she emerges. Instead, I try to forget Lady Tiri and strain to see the people I sincerely hope to find here.
Among them I’m happy to see Hasmik, Chiyoko, Laronda and Dawn, all of them dressed to the nines. I notice that Princess Manala has chosen not to use her right as Family to be one of the first in line and has decided to stick with my friends instead—Hasmik, in particular.
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