by M. Dalto
And then she died for it.
It was Bria’s grave Reylor visited at night, far more than Alex visited Treyan’s resting place. She wondered if the Lord Steward truly had loved her, if only in his own twisted way, but Alex rejected that thought. There was no one Reylor loved more than himself.
Again, the weight of a gaze upon her brought her gaze up from the table. As though he knew she was thinking about him, Reylor’s ruby-eyed stare pierced through her as the other Council members obliviously discussed the potential for local trade and securing the safety of merchant routes.
She should be unnerved, her mind reminded her as she held his gaze. Her chest closed tight whenever she pondered his redemption. Her head pounded with each convincing thought that despite how much forgiveness she could give, after what he had done to her, there wasn’t a repentant bone in his body. Yet, even when she felt as though his eyes undressed her, there was something in those eyes that kept her from running to her rooms out of fear or self-pity. It was as though every look he gave her elicited a challenge; one she would not shy away from.
It was why she insisted on attending the Council meetings.
His stare broke only when he needed to call the Council back to order and move on to the next topic on the agenda. Alex leaned back in her chair, picking at her nails, trying her best not to look bored and failing. If Treyan was there, he would have called her out in front of everyone, or at least kicked her under the table to regain her attention.
But he wasn’t there.
She was the Queen Empress, and no one was left to challenge her.
No one had dared test her since she had returned.
Except the reinstated Lord Steward of the Empire.
Reylor’s presence within the palace made her want to prove she wasn’t just a mourning Empress, unable to carry on after the death of her husband, even when there were days she would have preferred to remain in bed with her curtains drawn, her covers over her head as she cried and cried and cried.
She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
Not when Reylor was always there like he was waiting for her to show a moment of weakness, to pounce when the time was right, and she was ripe for the taking.
No. Never again.
“Since you’re insisting on attending, you could act as though you continue to care about being here.”
Alex jumped at the sound of his voice. Reylor stood next to her chair, his arms folded across his strong chest, his dark blond hair tied back with a leather strap. A glance around the room showed her that the Council was beginning to disperse. Two of the three newer members had already departed, leaving Jamison alone at the other end of the table chatting with the third member, a young man who had arrived from the further outskirts of the Empire.
She didn’t pretend to ignore the scowl Jamison gave Reylor and Alex quickly returned her attention to the Lord Steward.
“I have nothing better to do,” she mused in response, and a slight smirk across her lips. “If I didn’t know any better, you had nothing better to do during the meeting than stare at me, so I’m beginning to wonder just how much you retained...”
“Does it bother you?” he asked plainly.
“Which part—the staring or the meetings?”
“Both.”
Shrugging, she stood from her chair. “I haven’t decided.”
She turned to walk away, but his arm shot out and grabbed her elbow. Not hard, but enough to regain her attention. Enough for panic to course through her at the unexpected touch.
Too late, he realized what he had done. His red gaze was apologetic and soft, softer than she had seen from him in a while. “Have dinner with me.”
“Reylor...” she started, feeling her body tense.
“Is everything alright, Empress?”
Jamison had finished his conversation with the Council member, who had excused himself with a prolonged curious glance towards Reylor and Alex’s exchange. Taking advantage of Jamison’s interruption as a welcome distraction, she was able to wrench her arm out of Reylor’s grasp and move a step away before he could attempt to restrain her again.
“Everything is fine, Jamison,” she informed the Captain. She silently challenged Reylor to contest her declaration, even as Jamison watched him with daggers in his eyes. “The Lord Steward and I were just finishing our conversation.”
The smile she plastered on her face made Reylor’s eyes narrow, and as she gave a nod to Jamison, she was only half-grateful for his interruption. How far would Reylor have gone if they were alone? She didn’t know, and that spark within her that had her wanting to push those limits and boundaries continued to wonder.
Instead of waiting to inquire, she turned on her heel and left the Council room alone.
It wasn’t until she was halfway down the hallway that she realized the other half of her, the part that would rather stay in bed crying with the curtains drawn—the still-lonely part—almost told Reylor yes.
Chapter Three
The lords from the outlying territories began arriving a week later.
Alex and Reylor had made the decision together that the lords would be called to the palace as soon as Alex was well enough to receive them. Rumors spread since the incident within the Borderlands, with some even questioning the health and well-being of the Queen Empress. That Alex had returned was one thing—it was as if the lords flocked to them only to see her in the flesh, living and breathing, to decide if she was truly capable of leading them. Included with that scrutiny was the validation of the reinstatement of the Lord Steward and the news of Treyan’s demise. During their visit, they would be expected to pay their respects to the fallen Prince while at the same time begin assisting in the Empire’s plans to move against the Borderlands.
War was coming.
There was nothing Alex could do to stop it. She knew she needed lords on her side, to believe her position, and to listen to her when the Empire needed them the most.
She had taken up residence in the rooms that once belonged to Reylor. They were a few of the only rooms that hadn’t been affected by the library’s explosion, and therefore were not disturbed by the ongoing efforts to stabilize the palace and return it to its former glory. She had initially insisted Reylor have his own rooms back, but he refused to have her reside anywhere else, and instead he took up residence in the Council’s chambers; the proper place for the Lord Steward, he told her.
One benefit of her title Alex did not reinstitute were her Mistresses.
With two of them dead, and the third dismissed for her own safety before she left the Empire, she didn’t have it in her to petition any more innocents to wait on her when there was too much at stake being a member of her inner circle. She looked after herself—dressing herself, doing her own hair. It was no different than when she was on her own in Boston, and she appreciated the time alone when she had it.
She had just finished donning her dress—simple yet elegant enough the lords wouldn’t question her level of formality when she greeted them. Her jewelry and crown and all other frivolous items were lost when the palace collapsed and she was in no state to replace them.
Wartime was not a time for embellishment.
She assessed her reflection in the mirror in passing as she grabbed her hairbrush. Alex had lost weight—she had been bedridden for a week and never regained any of it back. She ate, but nowhere near enough; nothing satisfied her. Yet, by some magic of the Empire, she looked...beautiful. As if her perfect hair, bright eyes, and flawless skin was enough of a mask to hide the destruction beneath.
Alex was a mess, but the power of the Empire refused to show the truth behind the mask.
She hated it.
She wasn’t sure she would ever be how she was supposed to be—not any longer, not since Treyan had died. She knew Reylor tried to keep her mind from drifting—the constant stares, taunts, dinner invitations. Perhaps he thought it would keep her preoccupied, but it wasn’t working. Or it hadn’t been working. More recently, sh
e found herself thinking about his invitations...for no other reason than she was lonely.
A mess.
A desperate mess.
Shaking her head, Alex ran the brush through her auburn hair, deciding she would leave it down while greeting the lords, when a knock sounded at her door. Only Reylor or Jamison would call on her directly, so she had a fifty-fifty chance of knowing who it was. She stood from her vanity and opened the door just enough to peer out.
Reylor stood on the other side, dressed in a fine black tunic, pants, and boots. His hair was loose, and he held himself properly with his hands behind his back as he awaited an answer to his summons.
Straightening, she met his gaze. “What do you want?”
“Ever the pleasure to see you too, Empress,” he greeted.
Alex was hardly in the mood. “The lords are assembling, and I need to finish getting ready. Do you mind?”
“I do, actually.” He motioned towards her room. “May I?”
“No, you may not.” She moved to shut the door, but his boot caught the door before it could meet the threshold.
“I have something for you,” he insisted, and Alex peered at him through the small space.
“What is it?” she asked, still trying to shut the door against his foot.
“I will show you if you stop trying to shut me out,” he said with a sigh. “Please?”
Rarely did he use that word, and there was something about hearing it now that had Alex reconsidering her position. Giving him one last glance, she nodded and stepped away from the door to allow him entry.
He walked in silently, avoiding her, instead taking in the detail—or lack thereof—of what used to be his living space. “I appreciate what you’ve done with the decor,” he mused.
Alex knew he was only trying to get a reaction out of her, for she’d done absolutely nothing to try to make the room hers.
Folding her arms across her chest, she tapped her foot impatiently as he made his rounds. He stopped a short distance away from her, his arms still behind his back.
“Well?” she finally blurted, losing patience.
Reylor finally brought his arms forward and presented her with a wooden box.
Perking a brow, Alex looked between the box and the Lord Steward. “What is that?”
“Why don’t you take it from me, open it, and find out for yourself?”
Reluctantly, she took the box from his hands and placed it on top of her dresser. Opening the lid carefully as if she expected a snake to jump out at her, she was surprised into silence at what lay inside.
The Empress’ crown.
The crown that had belonged to Reylor and Treyan’s mother before Alex’s arrival.
The crown she received upon her coronation, and last wore on her wedding day.
The same crown Alex believed to be lost when the palace fell.
“Where did you find this?” she breathed, her attention wholly focused on the box and its contents.
Reylor took a step closer, poised just over her shoulder. “Sarayna and I spent days searching through the palace’s rubble when we first returned, trying to find anything of meaning or purpose that would assist her on her journey or help boost the morale of the Empire.”
Alex’s attention rested on the crown of gold, with its diamonds and gemstones refracting the light of the suns as they shone through the nearby window. Her hand shook as she tried to reach for it, as the flood of memories came crashing upon her, stalling her movements.
“Let me.” Before she could protest, Reylor stepped around her and removed the crown from its case.
She kept her head bowed as he turned to her, the crown resting between both of his hands, as he lifted it up and gently placed it upon her head.
“Queen Empress Alexstrayna, the first of her line,” he said softly as he brought his hands back down. “The daughter of saviors, the mother of princes, and the Light of the Empire.” He allowed a grin to play on his lips. “Though I suppose we would need to revise that to include princesses.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry. “Thank you,” she coughed out, taking a step back to look into the mirror, pretending to adjust the already well-placed crown instead of further acknowledging the man standing before her.
“Of course, Empress,” he answered as he bowed, almost a little too gracefully, and pivoted on his heel to leave the bedroom.
Her gaze traveled to his back, watching him move, and he suddenly stopped before crossing the threshold as if he sensed her stare.
“Good luck today,” Reylor said before glancing over his shoulder towards her. “You will need it.”
Alex marched towards the door and slammed it in response just as he stepped away.
Chapter Four
Other than the sleeping quarters, the throne room was one of the only areas within the palace that was deemed habitable and safe during the rebuilding process. It now housed every lord and lady from throughout the Empire who had arrived within the last week, answering the summon of their Queen Empress, the first she had instilled since her reign.
That the summons were from Reylor’s mouth drew their curiosity, and those who may have considered ignoring the call were now craning their necks to see the infamous Lord Steward in the flesh.
Each village, town, and city within the Empire was connected through a network of orbs, Alex learned as Reylor was preparing to contact the lords. Not unlike the ones she had seen used since her arrival from the Otherrealm, she realized. It was a system that had been lain to waste when the Councillor oversaw the ruling of the palace, and where the lords of the Empire were concerned, it wasn’t something Treyan made much use of, as far as Alex was aware.
She wondered what else the Councillor had put a stop to when he seized power over the Empire.
As the new figurehead, the Empress would need to figure it out sooner rather than later. She went through her options as she made her way through the masses towards the throne that awaited her at the back of the sunlit hall. The leaders of their lands would expect nothing less from her, and if she was going to have them follow her, she would need to convince them she was just as capable of leading them as Treyan.
Reylor, Jamison, and the rest of the Council were already waiting for her, surrounding the dais where the throne perched. Reylor stood to the left of the throne with the other members flanking him while Jamison remained at the foot of the dais with the selected guards that would serve as her personal protection.
That she would need protection while in the presence of her sworn lords made something in Alex’s stomach drop. Even here, in the alleged safety of the castle, there could be no chances taken; she had seen that firsthand. With the tension between the Captain and the Lord Steward, perhaps Jamison may have been somewhat excessive with the increased numbers that surrounded her.
It was the other side of the throne, however, that caught Alex’s attention as she made her way through the gaping crowd. The space on the right of the dais was left empty, and Alex avoided glancing in that direction.
No one dared step into the Crown Prince’s space, and no one would until Sarayna returned with her Emperor.
She ascended the stairs towards the throne, the crowd behind her gradually quieting as she passed. With a deep breath and a swirl of skirts, she turned to face them, plastering on the mask of the Queen Empress.
“Before us sits the Queen Empress Alexstrayna,” Reylor’s voice boomed throughout the throne room, filled with more tenure and authority than she had heard from him before. “The first of her line, the daughter of Saviors, the mother of Princes, and the Light of the Empire.”
“The Light of the Empire,” the rest of the court echoed in unison, and Alex sat upon the throne. She surveyed the crowd for a moment before she spoke, trying to discern if she recognized any of the faces. A few resembled those who assembled for her coronation, but that was ages ago— more than twenty years by the Empire’s standards. She, unfortunately, hadn’t aged, not while she was wit
hin the Otherrealm trying to decide how to return and retrieve her missing son. A son who was now grown with a wife of his own, with his own child on the way when to Alex no time had passed at all
Such was the magic of the Empire.
The Empress swallowed and cleared her throat, her eyes focusing on no one in particular as she began. “I want to thank you for answering the call for your Empire. We are in dire need of assistance from each and every one of you, and your loyalty will not go unnoticed.”
She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. “Before we proceed, I want to confirm the news and rumors you may have heard prior to arriving.” She finally allowed her eyes to drift to the empty seat on her right side. “Crown Prince Treyan, in his line of duty and dedication to the safety of the Empire, was murdered by Razen, the royal family’s former Councillor. As such, he has been deemed a traitor and banished from the Empire.”
A quiet murmur swept over the crowd, with more than a few flashing accusatory glances in Reylor’s direction. Alex also found herself focusing on the newly reinstated Lord Steward as she resumed speaking.
“The threat from the Borderlands grows greater every day, which means we need to be a unified front throughout this trying time.” She promised herself she would not mention Lexan or Crystal—at least not yet. The focus needed to remain on the true mastermind behind the Empire’s broken lineage. “It has come to my attention that deceit and trickery from the Borderlands infiltrated the sanctity of this Empire well before my reign. Reylor, the former Lord Steward of the Empire, was one of the greatest victims of this manipulation, having been possessed by the blackest of magics, and therefore has been reinstated to his destined position, and pardoned for all past acts against the Empire.”
At this the room erupted with shouts and curses flung towards the direction of the throne. Alex saw Jamison tense where he stood before her. She held steady as a resounding bellow of “silence!” rang throughout the hall.
