by A K Fedeau
Livia waited for him to go on.
“They’d known each other since they were children. They were inseparable.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
“Don’t worry. It was before your time.” The water sloshed around Marcus’ chest as he waded across the pool. “Demetrio trained under me as a cadet, and she was all he talked about. The letters they wrote. Their romantic weekends.” He settled behind Livia’s back. “Then… I don’t know. One day, they weren’t together anymore. Demetrio wouldn’t talk about it. Camilla fell in with a married man.”
“You think it was Demetrio in the garden?”
“I’d put coin on it.” Marcus frowned. “I don’t know what she has with Hector - but I know what Demetrio had with her.”
Livia stayed silent for a minute and let it all sink in.
“Do you realize what this means?”
Marcus gave her a curious look. “What?”
“If her heart can lead her to Hector… it can lead her away from him.”
Marcus tilted his head, and he hung on her every word.
“Think about it.” Livia turned around. “A letter here. A rumor there. We could have the whole court thinking she’s cheating on him.” She advanced on Marcus, leaving a trail of ripples in her wake. “Hector doesn’t love people. He possesses them. Camilla most of all. If he thought she’d slipped his grasp…”
Livia trailed off, and Marcus’ back bumped against the edge.
“All right.” Marcus gulped. “We’ll do it. On one condition.”
“What?”
“We don’t just fool Hector,” Marcus said. “We actually change Camilla’s mind.”
“Are you serious?”
Marcus slipped out from under her. “Why lie when you could make it true?”
“It’s harder. More dangerous.”
“And more effective.” Marcus circled around Livia and pressed her to the tile. “We were lucky with the first two. We can’t keep relying on that.”
“No.” Livia gazed up at him and laid her hands on his chest. “You’re right.”
CHAPTER 13
On a cool evening, the palace opened for the Moonlight Festival, with gold drapes hung in the hallways and the air thick with fragrant smoke.
In the gazebo, Hector ruled over a card table with earls and dukes, while the curtains billowed and the braziers burned with chunks of frankincense. He gathered up handfuls of coins as a servant dealt him a new hand, and threw a card down with zeal and let out a raucous laugh. In the reception rooms, cithara players plucked out slow, plaintive songs, and the guests chatted amongst each other as they stuffed egg tarts down their throats.
“Has the Celestial Council even decided on a new pontifex?”
“No.”
“Well, what are they doing? The whole Histrian Church is going to fall apart.”
“I mean, honestly,” someone else griped. “That random priest had to open the festival.”
“Anyone can light a candle.”
“It’s the principle, dammit. This province is a mess.”
And at the edge of the great hall, Marcus and Livia ate custard out of silver bowls - and peered at the perfumed courtiers and ambassadors as they passed.
“Do you see him?” Livia asked.
“No.” Marcus frowned and searched through the crowd. “Wait… no. I thought I saw him.”
Livia took an indignant bite of custard. “Damn.”
Marcus tapped Livia’s shoulder. “Ah.”
Livia gulped down her bite. “What?”
Marcus nodded to a spot by a harpist across the room. “There.”
Livia turned to look - and sure enough, she saw Demetrio, sipping wine in his captain’s cuirass and foppish, curly hair.
“I’ll stay over here and blend in,” Marcus said.
“Good.” Livia brushed off her dress. “I only need him for one song.”
“You can do it that fast?”
“Maybe two. We’ll see. I’ll be back.”
Livia polished off her custard and set the bowl on a tray, and crossed the room in a stately sweep of her red satin skirt. She nudged, sidestepped, and apologized until she made her way to Demetrio - and found him with a young woman, fanning herself with a leaf-shaped fan.
Livia poked her head in between them. “Mind if I take your place?”
“Are you serious? Please.” The woman floated off. “I need another drink.”
As soon as the woman left, Livia scooted into the empty space, and flattened herself as a laughing, drunken couple stumbled by. The musicians rose from their pillows, nodded to each other, and counted off, and as they began a stately song, the guests moved in to dance.
“Captain Cavarossi. There you are.”
Demetrio’s eyes went wide. “I am?”
“It’s that Juban civet you’re wearing. All I had to do was follow the smell.”
“I’m not wearing too much.”
Livia smirked. “Well, no, not for a man like you.”
“And what kind of man is that?”
“One who knows how good he looks in uniform.”
They joined the crowd of courtiers at the center of the room, and the group spread into straight lines, shoulder-to-shoulder, back-to-front.
“You’re… Lady Livia?”
“That’s me.” Livia raised her left arm to her chest. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You have? Why?”
“I need to talk to you.”
Demetrio raised his right arm to match. “You’re not pulling me into some scheme, are you?”
Livia snorted. “Do people still think that about me?”
“Your reputation does precede you.”
Demetrio swayed to the right, and Livia followed him - and she peeked over her shoulder to make sure Marcus was still all right.
“So.” Livia inched up her hem and swayed back to her starting point. “You’re a popular boy. You rub elbows with some interesting people.”
“Do I?”
“You did the last time I saw you.” Livia brought her feet together. “In the sculpture garden. With Camilla.”
Demetrio choked. “Mira’s blood.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Especially not His Majesty.”
“I’d sooner cut my own head off.” Livia swept her petticoats out of the way. “Now. Do you want Camilla back?”
“More than anything in the world.”
“I can get you that.”
“How?”
Livia put her skirt down. “First, you need to do something for me.”
Demetrio stepped to the right again and crossed his right leg. “All right.”
“On one condition. We never talked about this.”
Demetrio nodded. “Understood.”
The dancers glided back to the left and broke into pairs, their arms still raised.
“What are Camilla’s favorite flowers?” Livia asked.
“White gardenias and dittanies.”
“Dittanies? For a man’s lust for a woman?”
“And white gardenias for secret love.” Demetrio bowed as Livia curtsied, then rotated to the left. “We wrote to each other constantly when I was a cadet. I sent bouquets with my letters.”
“That’s so endearing, I think I’m going to throw up.”
“They were always white gardenias and dittanies with a single red rose. They were expensive, but it was worth it.” Demetrio bowed a second time, and they turned back to their starting place. “I told her the rose represented the blood I was willing to give for her.”
Livia raised her eyebrows and answered in perfect deadpan. “Incredible.”
The dancers swirled away from each other as the music changed, but as they found new partners, Livia stayed with Demetrio.
“All right. What did you call her?”
“Call her?”
“Her pet name.”
“My evening star.”
“Of course you did.” Livia held her left arm out instead of up. “Did you call her that in your letters?”
Demetrio scowled. “Always. How is this supposed to help?”
“Oh, I’m wily. I’ve got ideas already.” Livia clapped Demetrio’s palm. “What else do you have? Jokes? Memories?”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Well, think. The less you give me, the less likely this is to work.”
“I…” Demetrio clapped Livia’s other palm - “wait!”
Livia closed in on him. “What?”
“What about gifts?”
Livia bowed her head and raised her arm. “Go on.”
“The year before she left me, I gave her a crystal perfume vial. Jasmine and balsam, from Kaditha.” Demetrio paced around her like a spoke around a wheel. “I’m sure she’s used the perfume, but the vial wasn’t the sort of thing you throw out.”
“You think she still has it?”
Demetrio looked stricken. “If she loved me at all, she does.”
“All right. It’s a gamble, but I’ll take it.” Livia paced around him in return. “One more thing. You’ve been meeting her. You know where to get her alone.”
Demetrio paced a second circle. “I do.”
“Where? Be specific. And what time of day?”
“There’s an olive tree in the sculpture garden next to the fishpond. She likes to read there in the afternoons while her maid buffs her fingernails.” Demetrio guided Livia as she circled him again. “That’s where I found her the other day. She never takes Hector there.”
“There. See?” Livia stopped pacing. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Just then, the music ended, and the dancers swayed to a halt. They clapped and thanked each other, smiled, and changed partners again. Livia clapped to be polite, but when the next song began, she backed away from Demetrio with a small, affected bow.
“Demetrio, you’re a provincial treasure. I knew we’d get along.”
“I…”
“Uh-uh.” Livia held up her finger. “Don’t tell anyone.”
Demetrio stood still and stared at her, unsure how to respond.
“You have a good night.” Livia winked at him. “Oh, and… less civet next time.”
•••
“I’m sorry I’m late, so sorry, please don’t report it, I’m here now!”
The next morning, Hermia raced through Livia’s room like a hummingbird, straightening sheets and scooping up pillows and sliding the cases off. Livia sat perfectly still at her dressing table in her dressing gown, and gazed wide-eyed into her mirror as she plucked her eyebrows.
“Hermia, really.”
“I’m so sorry. I had to go into town.”
“I said…”
“The palace is fresh out of laundry soap. We’ve been going to market to get more.” Hermia threw back the covers and grabbed a pillowcase in her small, olive fists. “On my way back, I ran into the barricade. I had to take the long way around. I know I didn’t…”
“Hermia…”
“And by then, you were already up…”
Livia turned around in her chair and raised her hand. “Hermia, please.”
Hermia stared at her like a frightened deer.
“I don’t need you that early.” Livia let her hand drop. “It’s fine.”
“Are you going to report it?” Hermia murmured.
Livia sighed. “Of course not.”
Hermia gulped, then gingerly set the pillowcase down. “All right.”
Livia turned back to her mirror and tipped her face toward the window, then tugged her eyebrow up with her finger and plucked underneath the arch.
“Now, what’s this about a barricade?”
Hermia blinked. “You didn’t hear?”
“No.”
“There was a standoff with the prefects.”
“Where?”
“Near the Proscenium.”
“A standoff? With whom?”
“I don’t know.” Hermia dragged the bed canopy back to the wall. “I heard some people got together and started throwing rocks at the prefects. Last week someone at the Acta Diurna was arrested, but a bunch of his friends broke him out.”
“Does King Hector know?”
“The man wrote against him. His Majesty probably put him there.”
“No, no. I mean the barricade.”
“I don’t see how he couldn’t by now.”
“The better question is, why didn’t we?”
“I couldn’t tell you that.” Hermia moved Livia’s two pillows to the foot of the bed. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to worry.”
Livia held the tweezers still. “You think?”
“I guess.”
Livia narrowed her eyes and plucked another hair. “Maybe so.”
“If it’s not too bold of me, I don’t know what’s gotten into people.” Hermia folded the pillowcases and laid them on the armchair. “It’s like after that thing with the pontifex, they never seemed to calm down.”
Livia leaned back in her chair and inspected the work she’d done.
“Would you like me to help with that when I’m finished?” Hermia asked.
Livia brushed the hairs with her finger. “I’m fine.”
“If you don’t mind, my lady - why are you so keen on doing things yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“Running your own errands. Doing your own hair. Things like that.”
“Oh.” Livia reached across her dressing table and grabbed a jar. “I don’t know. Old habits, I guess.”
“It is my job, my lady.”
“I know.” Livia opened the jar and dabbed some soothing salve on her brow. “You ask me, the other courtiers could stand to lift a finger once in a while. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than groom some rich woman’s eyebrows.”
Hermia studied her shoes. “Hrm.”
“What?”
“Permission, my lady?”
“Of course.”
“Sometimes when you talk like that, I get the feeling you don’t need me at all.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it.”
“If you say so.” Hermia rolled up the red brocade comforter. “I mean, it may not be impressive, but this job is all I have.”
“Surely that’s not true.”
“It is.” Hermia dumped the comforter on the armchair. “My parents sent me here to find work, and I’m sure they’re glad to be rid of me.”
Livia hesitated, then picked her tweezers up.
“Uh, Hermia…”
Hermia paused with her hands on the blanket. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but I know a cognitive alchemist.”
“You know I can’t afford that.”
“I’d cover his fees.”
“No.” Hermia shook her head. “I don’t need to pay a professional to tell me I’m not worth much.”
Livia felt a criticism coming, took a deep breath, and restrained herself.
“Well… anyway.” She tugged up her other eyebrow. “When you’re done, I do have something for you.”
Hermia stripped off the blanket. “What’s that?”
“Do you know where the palace gets its flower arrangements?”
“We have a florist on the grounds.”
“Oh, good.” Livia plucked under the arch to match the other one. “I wonder if you could go see them and have a bouquet made for me.”
“Of what?”
“White gardenias and dittanies.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“That’s what I thought.” Livia dusted off her hands. “I’d like seventeen gardenias, six dittany stalks, and a single red rose.”
Hermia looked bewildered. “I’ve never seen a bouquet like that before.”
“I know. It’s a little unusual.” Livia opened her drawer. “I’m doing, uh…” she dropped her tweezers in - “we’ll call it an experiment.”
“Is it for General Incipio?” Hermia asked.
Livia’s ears pricked up. “Maybe. Why?”
“Doesn’t he usually get you moonflowers?”
“He does.” Livia shut the drawer a little too hard. “When you’ve got the bouquet, bring it back to me. I’ll handle things from there.”
“Is there a special occasion?”
Livia gripped the jar of balm. “Yes. There is.”
“That’s funny. I thought Marcus’ birthday wasn’t until the thirteenth of Zephyr Month.”
“It is.”
“And your anniversary isn’t until…”
Livia’s tone sharpened. “The end of the Starlight Festival.”
“I-I- uh- I’ve asked too much,” Hermia stuttered. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
A brief, uncomfortable silence fell - until Livia sighed.
“No. I’m sorry.” She opened the jar. “I shouldn’t talk to you like that.”
Neither of them moved, and distant footsteps shuffled through the hall outside.
“Milady?” Hermia wadded up the blanket. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.” Livia stared into her lap. “Just a little out-of-sorts today.”
•••
“Do you ever wonder what it must be like to paint these things?” Livia asked.
“I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I don’t envy their job.”
Marcus and Livia lingered in the palace art gallery, amid huge, centuries-old canvases on a gilded, backless couch. They gazed at the new painting before them with slouched shoulders and disinterested eyes - Hector in glittering golden armor on a rearing white horse.
Livia slumped against the couch arm. “What is it even supposed to be?”
“Leading the charge into Jormunthal.”
“He wasn’t there.”
“I know.” Marcus crossed his ankles and stretched his feet out in front of himself. “He’s not that muscular, either.”
“Good point.” Livia curled her lip. “Knowing Hector, I’m surprised he didn’t ask for a bulge in his front.”
“It’d take too much artistic license.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen it,” Marcus muttered.
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
Livia cringed. “How?”
“I went to his chamber with a report, and there he was. Like the day he was born.”
“He received you with no clothes on?”
