by Amy Raby
“Thank you,” said Lucien, as they clasped wrists. “And I appreciate your discretion.” He climbed into the front carriage and closed the door behind him. The drivers slapped the reins, and both vehicles rolled away.
Marius sighed and rolled his shoulders, letting out the tension of having to be “on” for an extended period of time, and in his own home at that. Finally, he could just be himself. He looked around, searching for Isolda.
She was walking away down the street, clutching Rory’s hand.
He ran after them.
When he caught up, Isolda turned and said, “I need to go home.”
“I don’t believe you’ve had supper yet,” said Marius. “I know it’s late, and the food’s cold, but I can put the soup over the fire again. You should stay here tonight, both of you.”
Isolda clasped his wrist, a formal gesture that chilled him. Why not a hug or a kiss, given how intimate they’d been?
“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve been very kind. But I shouldn’t stay.”
“You’re not leaving, are you?” He had a terrifying sense that she was ending the relationship, or at least backing away from it.
“I’ll be at the surgery tomorrow morning,” she said.
He swallowed. That didn’t answer the whole of his question. “If you must go back, at least allow me and Drusus to escort you. I don’t know what you saw, but that woman—” He let out a breath, and paused to collect himself. “She’s just someone I have to be nice to for my cousin’s sake. I’m not interested in her. I swear I’m not.”
Isolda turned away, as if to hide tears.
“You’re the one I want,” he said softly. “Not her. Not anyone else.”
She spoke in a trembling voice. “But you will marry someone else, eventually.”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” said Marius.
That seemed to be the wrong answer, because she turned and walked away, taking Rory with her.
He trotted after her. “At least let me escort you to the harbor district.” He gestured to Drusus, who caught up with them. But Isolda broke into a run, and Marius, feeling it was not proper to chase a woman, stopped and stood shivering, with his hand outstretched in the night air.
Chapter 25
Three days had passed, and Marius didn’t know what to do about Isolda. Each day, she showed up for work on time, well-dressed and smiling. She did her work with courtesy and efficiency, and in the evening, when Marius invited her back to the villa, she politely declined to join him. Every time. Neither would she let him and Drusus escort her back to the harbor district.
His affair with her had ended almost as soon as it had begun, and all because of his affectionate farewell to Gratiana, which hadn’t meant a thing. It was for Lucien’s benefit that he’d attempted to be charming. And while Lucien might have hoped a romance could blossom between him and Gratiana, it hadn’t. He had not seen the woman since.
Yet when Isolda gave him that tight smile, he saw the pain in her eyes. The problem wasn’t Gratiana or the fact that he’d kissed her hand. It was something more substantial.
At supper an hour later with Drusus, he blurted, “Why can’t I marry Isolda?”
His bodyguard answered without looking up. “Because you’re the emperor’s cousin, and she’s an illegal refugee.” They were eating pan-fried venison tonight. Marius didn’t care much for venison, but Drusus was on his second helping.
“I have no obligation to Lucien—”
“Of course you have an obligation,” said Drusus. “He’s your emperor and patron. He’s given you everything.”
“But I never asked for anything,” said Marius. “What he gave, he gave for his own reasons.”
“You accepted.”
“There was never an agreement that in exchange for his financial support, I would allow him to choose my marriage partner,” said Marius. “I’m not going to marry someone just because it nets him one more investor for the harbor. His need for investors is a short-term problem. Marriage is forever.”
Drusus snorted. “Not necessarily.”
“It ought to be.”
“Lucien never said you had to marry someone who would further his harbor project,” said Drusus. “Just someone appropriate to your station.”
“I know.” The emperor, who had been generally supportive and had legitimate reasons for being upset with the Sardossian refugees, did not deserve Marius’s pique. Marius was lashing out because he couldn’t figure out whom to be angry with. He didn’t want to disappoint his cousin, but neither did he want to marry a noblewoman appropriate to his station. He wanted to marry Isolda.
“Talk to him,” said Drusus. “He’ll hear you out.”
“I should.” The gunpowder explosion was a fading memory now. Tensions with the refugees had receded somewhat, and Lucien might be more receptive to the idea of offering Isolda long-term citizenship. But he’d likely resist the idea of Marius marrying her. Marius dreaded the conversation, all the more so because he had an additional sensitive subject to discuss with the emperor: Maxian’s bruises. He’d talked to every Healer he could find at the university, and none of them knew of a bruising disorder that would explain Maxian’s injuries. He was going to have to tell the emperor that the bruises had been inflicted by blows. But who would have the audacity to hit the emperor’s son?
“So, there you go,” said Drusus. “Next Sage’s Day when you have your lunch with him, tell him you want to marry Isolda and see what he says.”
Marius blew out his breath. “Maybe I should ask Isolda first.”
“I wouldn’t blindside the emperor,” said Drusus. “Don’t you think she’ll say yes?”
“I hope.” It was hard to be certain, given how much she’d pulled away from him of late, but his impression was that she was keeping her distance not because she wasn’t interested, but because she believed he was going to marry someone else and didn’t want a casual affair. “Speaking of the emperor, there’s something I want to ask you.”
Drusus loaded a third helping of venison onto his plate. “Go ahead.”
“The subject is a sensitive one—”
His bodyguard looked up with brows raised.
“It’s nothing you’ve done,” said Marius. “It’s just that I can’t tell you the reason I’m asking. Do you remember that time you told me Jamien wasn’t the same person in private as he was in public?”
Drusus’s face became guarded. “I don’t recall saying such a thing.”
“You said he was a terror.”
Drusus looked down at his plate. “I’m sure I didn’t.”
Marius felt profoundly sad. For all they’d been through together, did Drusus not trust him? “This is important. The emperor specifically asked me to investigate a situation I think might be related. So if you know something—”
“Sir, I do not know anything,” said Drusus. “If I did, it would not be my place to speak of it.”
Marius sighed and fell silent.
∞
Isolda tugged Rory closer to her in the crowded tavern, and stirred the contents of her bowl. The potato soup was thin, almost translucent. She brought her spoon to her lips, sampling the tasteless broth, and eyed the tavern crowd. It consisted mainly of Sardossian men who’d finished their workday. For now, they were jovial and throwing back cheap gin, but in an hour or two, this place would get rough. By then, she hoped to be safe underground with Rory.
Caz slid onto the seat next to her, setting his gin mug on the table. “Haven’t seen you here in a while. Is that Kjallan dandy treating you all right?”
“Marius is no dandy.” Caz’s mere presence relaxed her. He was a big man, and sufficiently respected that no one would give her or Rory any trouble in his presence.
“Did you two have a scrap?”
Isolda glanced at her son’s soup bowl. He’d already finished. “Rory, run home so I can have a talk with Caz.”
“I want to hear what you say about Marius,” he complain
ed.
“Go,” she said softly.
Rory left the table, stiff-backed.
“I’ve stopped seeing him because he won’t marry me,” said Isolda.
Caz blinked. “Didn’t you just meet this man?”
“I’ve known him for a couple of months,” said Isolda. “I don’t mean he won’t marry me now; I mean he won’t marry me ever. His family is wealthy. They would never stand for me, and I think they pay most of his expenses.”
“You mean if he marries you, the flow of money stops.”
“Probably,” said Isolda. “They bring young noblewomen to his house in hopes he’ll fall in love with one of them.”
“But you’re the one who warms his bed at night,” said Caz.
“Not anymore.”
“Why throw yourself out prematurely? If the fun is going to be temporary, might as well enjoy it while you’ve got it.” He tipped back his mug, taking a swallow. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Tastes like raw pine needles.”
“You should know better than to buy gin here,” said Isolda.
Caz shrugged. “Answer my question.”
“I left because I can’t bear it,” said Isolda. “This was never just a bit of fun for me. Marius might see it that way, but I don’t. I’m in love with the man.”
“Ah,” said Caz. “Don’t you know you should never fall in love with a Kjallan?”
“I think about him day and night,” said Isolda. “I’ve never known such a man as Marius. He’s so good. He’s the standard by which I judge other people, by which I judge myself—”
“Come on,” said Caz. “Is he a man, or is he a god?”
“I mean it,” said Isolda.
“Nobody is that perfect.”
She shook her head. “I’m not saying he’s perfect, only that he’s the best man I’ve ever known. And so few people appreciate him! He lives simply and dresses unfashionably, and most women can’t see past that. It’s not that he doesn’t have female admirers,” she added, thinking of Lady Fabiola. “But either they’ve got some selfish agenda, or they see him as raw material to be molded into the man they really want. I want him just how he is.”
“And you’ve broken things off with him,” said Caz, “because you’re afraid he’ll marry someone else. Though no one else seems to appreciate him.”
“They appreciate his money and connections. It hurts me inside, seeing him every day and knowing that the day must come when he chooses another. If I put some distance between us now, maybe it won’t hurt so much when that happens. Maybe I’ll be able to clasp his wrist and congratulate him on his good fortune.”
“Would it be better if you didn’t work at the surgery at all?” asked Caz.
“I’ll never find a job that pays as well.”
“You’re a bookkeeper, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
“The shipping company I work for is looking for a bookkeeper. They don’t employ a lot of Sardossians, but your Kjallan is fluent now, and you’ve got the experience they’re looking for. Want me to inquire?”
“How much does it pay?”
“I can find out. Enough to keep you in bribe money, probably.”
“Thank you. I’m interested.” It made her heart ache to think of leaving the surgery. It was the best job she’d ever had, but one of the reasons she loved it was that Marius was there. Now that his presence brought her more pain than joy, it was time to get out.
Chapter 26
On Sage’s Day, Marius rode up to the palace with Drusus in tow. When he arrived at the gates, the guards, instead of taking his horse and escorting him inside, instructed him to stay where he was and wait. Knowing that Lucien was a busy man and sometimes late to his meetings, Marius dismounted and loosened Gambler’s girth.
When Lucien appeared half an hour later in the company of half a dozen Legaciatti, he was not on foot but mounted on a magnificent black horse with a long, flowing mane and tail.
Marius made the customary show of obeisance. When this was accepted, he asked, “Are we going somewhere?”
“Just out of the palace,” said Lucien. “If I have to spend one more hour among all that marble, I’ll go mad.”
Gambler was fresh enough after his breather, as was Drusus’s horse, and Marius didn’t mind a ride through the imperial grounds. The grounds were extensive, but he’d never seen more than a tiny piece of them. And considering that he had two topics of a sensitive nature to speak to Lucien about today, it would be good to leave the palace gossips behind.
Lucien led the way, setting a faster pace than Marius would have chosen. Gambler, who usually jogged placidly, lengthened his stride to keep up. Marius had not realized his horse was capable of speed. Though he knew the animal came from the imperial stables, he’d always thought of Gambler as a quiet plug.
Drusus and the other Legaciatti rode alongside.
Gambler arched his neck as if to show off, and Marius cast an admiring glance at the emperor’s horse, which Lucien rode easily despite his missing leg. The animal’s tail dragged along the ground. “Does he ever step on his tail?” Marius asked.
“The trick is not to go backward,” said Lucien.
For a while, they stayed on the main road. When they rounded a corner and a lake glistened in the lowlands, Lucien led them on a side path down to the water. There, they slowed their horses to walk along the bank. At a gesture from Lucien, the Legaciatti peeled away, giving them privacy.
Lucien spoke in a low voice. “What have you learned about Maxian’s condition?”
Here it was, the first of the conversations he’d been dreading. “I’ve spoken to several Healers at the university, and I don’t think Maxian’s bruises have a medical cause.”
“Then how did he acquire them?”
“I cannot know, Your Imperial Majesty,” said Marius.
“Were they the result of accidents, or did someone hit him?”
“I may be a village hayseed,” said Marius, “but I recognize that in a situation such as this, the stakes are high for everyone involved. I don’t want to make an accusation when I have no conclusive evidence.”
“I understand,” said Lucien. “But give me your best guess.”
Marius bit his lip. “This is what I know about bruises. Accidental ones are common in children, but they are usually found on the arms and legs, especially the shins. If on the face, the most common location is the forehead. Since Maxian’s are on his torso, it may be that someone is hitting him.”
“That’s what I feared,” said Lucien.
“What do you plan to do?” asked Marius, concerned now for the fates of the guards and nurses who cared for Maxian.
“I’m not sure,” said Lucien. “Vitala and I will discuss it this afternoon.”
Marius sent him a worried glance. What if Vitala was the one hitting the boy? He couldn’t say such a thing aloud, not to her loving husband, but it was a possibility.
“If you’re wondering whether Vitala might be the one hitting him, allow me to ease your mind,” said Lucien. “It’s not her.”
Marius nodded, letting his shoulders relax.
“I think I know who it is,” said Lucien. “But I won’t say anything more until I can confirm it.”
They rode in silence for a while, and Marius allowed himself to breathe more easily. His duty was done. He’d passed on everything he knew except the bit about Jamien that Drusus now denied he’d ever said. Lucien would work things out from here.
He watched the water as they rode. A breeze was kicking up ripples on the lake. The wind was changeable, and the ripples flowed in different directions. As one set collided with another, they formed little whitecaps.
He longed to bring Isolda here. He wanted to bring her lots of places, to be with her out in the open and stop hiding her in the villa—or away from the villa. His exclusion of her when Lucien had come with Gratiana now felt terribly wrong. There’d been a reason for it at the time: Vitala, acting as her alter ego Kolta, had wanted to
talk to Isolda about the gunpowder factories. But he knew, and certainly Isolda knew, that even if Vitala had not needed her, Isolda would have been left out of that dinner party.
He was living two separate lives, one with Isolda and Rory, and another one with the imperial family. This was untenable. He understood why she had pulled away from him. She was no Lady Fabiola, seeking an affair in the shadows. Isolda wanted him, but only if she could have him in the light of day.
He cleared his throat. “Cousin, I’d like your permission to marry.”
Lucien turned and looked at him with brows raised. “This is a surprise.”
“I’ve been...keeping things quiet. Until now.”
“I hope it’s not the Sardossian.”
Marius suppressed a cough. For all he’d tried to keep things quiet, he was apparently rather obvious. “It is. Isolda.”
Lucien’s expression remained unreadable as he turned away. “You do not need my permission to marry.”
From a legal standpoint, he didn’t, but there was more at stake here. He didn’t just want Isolda to be his wife; he wanted her to be accepted by the imperial family. And he wanted her to be safe from the city guards. “I think what I mean is that I’m seeking your blessing.”
“Ah,” said Lucien.
“You told me recently that I couldn’t tell her who I was. But if we marry, I must tell her.”
“Have you proposed?”
“I thought I should talk to you first.”
Lucien visibly relaxed. “There’s a problem. You can’t legally marry an illegal citizen.”
Marius had feared that was a possibility. However, he saw an obvious solution. “You could confer citizenship upon her.”
Silence hung between them, and Marius knew Lucien was wrestling with competing interests, not to mention his uneasiness with Marius’s choice of partner.
Finally, Lucien said, “It sets a bad precedent.”
“What are your objections to the marriage?” asked Marius.
Lucien halted his horse.
