by A K Fedeau
“Good.” Marcus folded and unfolded his arms, and eyed the crack in the drapes to make sure no one came through the hall. “Now. Where are we sitting?”
“What do you mean? We’re in the royal box.”
“I mean, are you sitting to the right or left of him?” Marcus leaned in closer and hushed. “Where will he set his wine down?”
“How should I know something like that?”
“Well, think.” Marcus rubbed his hands together and frowned. “Is Hector left- or right-handed?”
“Right.”
Marcus raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
Livia gave him a venomous look. “I was until you asked.”
“Mira’s blood.” Marcus rubbed his cheek. “Why can’t I remember, either?”
Livia grumbled, “Because it’s not the sort of thing you pay attention to.”
A pair of Juban ladies in green wax print gowns walked by, and Marcus and Livia fell silent until they disappeared.
“All right,” Livia repeated, as the ladies went upstairs. “Listen. You’re left-handed, so you sit on his right side. I’ll sit on his left. Most people drink with their off hand.”
“Who asks for the wine?”
“He will.” Livia turned so her collar blocked her face from behind. “If he doesn’t, I will. You just sit there and stay out of the way.”
Marcus clenched his teeth. “I didn’t know I was in it.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I…” Livia made a frustrated noise, then let it go. “Anyway, where is he?”
Marcus eyed the wall. “I think he’s upstairs.”
“Damn.” Livia picked up her skirt. “The show must be starting soon, then.”
Marcus grabbed her hand. “Wait!”
Livia let go of her skirt. “What?”
“What’s our plan for after?”
Livia squinted at him and repeated, “What?”
“You know. After.” After the show, Marcus meant. “What’s the protocol?”
“After the show, we’ll walk out with him the same way we walked in. If he wants to do anything else with us, just go along with it.”
“What if he gets sick?”
“I don’t care. It’ll look suspicious if we turn him down.” Livia made another surreptitious gesture to the ring. “Sometime before the end of the night, I’ll have to get rid of this.”
“Lose it on the trip home.”
“Yes, thank you. I know how to do my job.” Livia paused to stare daggers at him again, then went on. “The next few days will be chaos. Whatever you do, keep your head down. I’ll write to the asset tonight. We’ll work out what to do when it arrives.”
“You don’t think we should wait?”
“We can’t leave the throne empty that long. Someone else could step in, I don’t know who, and the whole thing would be lost.”
Marcus set his jaw. “You don’t think that’s a little obvious?”
“By then, the whole thing will be obvious.”
“No it won’t. That’s why we’re using what Kiri sent.”
“He’s a healthy thirty-year-old. He has no reason to die in his sleep. Courtiers are petty and vicious, not stupid.” Livia whispered so softly, she barely moved her mouth. “I don’t care if we use suspiria or bash him over the head. As soon as they find him, they’ll know what happened. We have to hit hard and fast.”
Marcus hissed at Livia through clenched teeth. “Oh, but I’m the risky one.”
“I’m not talking about this now.”
“No,” Marcus snipped. “You’re not talking about anything.”
“I’m not the one who got punched in the face.”
“I’m not the one who,” Marcus began…
“You going to finish that sentence?”
Marcus shut up.
Livia’s nostrils flared. “I didn’t think so.”
Before Marcus could shoot back at her, a bell chimed from the dome, and the guests ended their conversations and started up the stairs.
“All right. Come on.” Livia straightened the feathers around her neck. “You’ve only got one chance to do this.”
Marcus glowered back at her. “So do you.”
•••
In the Proscenium’s main hall, the guests sat in their darkened seats, and the orchestra swelled beneath them as they watched the first act unfold.
Onstage, a soprano paced across a lavish bedroom set, and her white dressing gown shimmered as it skimmed past the floor lights. She sank onto a red plush footstool, then hid her face in her hand, and the sawing Severin violins softened when she heaved a sigh.
And as a single, tragic harp plucked out its opening lines, the soprano stood up from her footstool and began to sing.
In the fragrant bower of my gilded cage, when the fateful day grows nigh
And the gated shadow of my true love’s doom, in the vale of death and sighs
In the deepest hour of my darkest dawn, when words have taken flight!
I beg you, Mira, hear a maiden’s prayer
As I say to the moon and stars…
Marcus hunched in his chair with his elbow on the upholstered arm, clenching and unclenching his fingers, then drumming them against his palm. Livia chewed her cheek as she kept Hector in the corner of her eye, and watched him yawn, pick his fingernails, and rest his chin in his hand.
“Psst.”
Livia flinched.
Hector nudged her with his elbow. “Livia.”
Livia leaned in and murmured back. “Your Majesty?”
“What’s she singing about?”
“She just said,” Livia answered.
“I wasn’t listening.”
A few of the nobles around the royal box turned their heads, and gave Hector judgmental looks for making so much noise.
“That’s Catarina,” Livia whispered.
Hector frowned. “And who’s she?”
Marcus gave Livia a look of his own that said, seriously?
“She’s the daughter of a wealthy merchant in the Histrian capital. Her stepfather wants her to marry a duke to raise their family’s rank.” Livia kept her voice as low as possible as she explained. “The problem is, she’s fallen in love with a painter named Dario. The duke is willing to do anything to keep her from running away with him.”
Conceal my heart, the soprano sang, and hinder my fate - sweet, perfect night - steal me, oh night.
Hector grumbled, “So?”
“Well, the duke has a title, but he’s poor. He wants to marry Catarina, kill her, and take her inheritance.”
Hector leaned back in his chair. “And?”
“He’s had Dario arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. He says if Catarina doesn’t marry him, he’ll have Dario hanged at dawn.”
“Mira’s tits.” Hector crossed his legs. “She’s singing about all that?”
“She’s wishing on a star. She wants the night to hide her while she escapes.”
Oh night, the soprano repeated as she clutched her chest, then shivered and pulled her dressing gown tighter around herself. Hector reached behind his back and tugged the tassel on the drape, and Livia slid her hand into her skirt and straightened her ring.
The steward crept in. “Your Majesty?”
“Bring us a bottle of wine.”
“The first act is almost over…”
“I don’t care,” Hector grumbled. “Bring it now.”
Marcus gave Livia a wide-eyed look as the steward slipped out, then returned a minute later with a silver tray.
“Your Majesty.” The steward laid out three goblets. “Should I pour for you?”
“I will,” Livia quickly cut in. “Thank you for your time.”
Livia reached for the bottle, but Hector snatched it first, and poured his own drink with such fervor that a drop splashed over the side. He filled it all the way to the top, and the bottle clattered as he set it down.
Livia averted her head and bit the inside of her mouth. Shit.
“Now.” Hector picked the goblet up with his left hand. “You were saying?”
On the other side of the box, Marcus fidgeted in his seat.
Livia swallowed her frustration. “Why don’t we just watch the play?”
“Hnh.” Hector sniffed and sank into his seat cushion. “Fine.”
Marcus poured wine for himself and set it aside without drinking it, and Hector tipped his goblet back and took a greedy gulp. Marcus tapped his index finger against his goblet as he watched. Mira’s tits, Hector, put it down! Livia swore to herself. But Hector drank and drank until he polished the whole thing off, and planted it on the tray with an attention-grabbing clank.
“Go on.” Livia held her ring hand out. “Let me pour you another one.”
“Why?” Hector raised his eyebrow at her. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Livia’s ears burned as she pulled away from the bottle. “No.”
Marcus took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.
The soprano flung her arms out and bellowed up to the eaves - carry me to him tonight, growing louder with each note. On the next tonight, her pitch soared as high as it would go - a piercing, anguished climax that reverberated through the walls.
Livia pulled her lips into her teeth as the horns blared from the pit, and she bit back her frustration as she twisted her ring with her thumb. And save me, night, the soprano sang in a softer voice, I pray thee, night - and as the kettledrums thundered beneath her, the song came to a close.
The soprano stepped into her slippers and ran across the stage, and undid the latch on the window on the far side of the set. But as she gathered up her skirt and got ready to climb out, someone pounded on the door, and she panicked and pulled away.
The baritone threw the door open without knocking again. Catarina!
Stepfather, I can explain, she sang.
Why have you not gone to bed?
I…
Come. The baritone led her toward her bed. The dear bride needs her rest.
As they turned away, the curtain fell on the first act, and the audience applauded before they rose from their seats. Hector’s chair creaked as he clapped a slow, unamused clap, and Livia stared into her lap as her insides twisted with fear.
Hector scratched his cheek. “You know, Livia.”
Livia answered too quickly. “What?”
“What do you say you meet me in the royal chambers when we get back?”
Livia blinked. “Really?”
“Why not?” Hector adjusted his sash. “I’ve got a business proposition for you. We could have that second drink.”
Marcus glanced back and forth between them, unsure what to say. “Uh…”
“Let me ask Marcus,” Livia began…
“No, no.” Hector smirked. “Just you.”
Livia gazed over Hector’s shoulder and into Marcus’ eyes. I don’t know, his grim expression told her. I don’t know. I can’t help you. So Livia looked away from him as her heart beat in her throat - and she took a second to steel herself before she answered him.
“All right.”
•••
Back at the palace, Hector ushered Livia through his doorway, where the royal bedchamber glowed at the end of a long, dark hall.
He led her past towering pillars and down the mosaic floor, and Livia noticed a gallery of treasures to the left and right of her. Jars. Swords. Unmounted paintings. Gilded trunks and armoires. A stuffed Juban leopard staring at her with beady, black glass eyes. And in the center of his round room stood a massive gold sleigh bed, smothered in satin pillows and a royal purple duvet.
“Mira’s tits.” Hector yawned without covering his mouth. “I’m glad to be in for the night.”
As Livia crept deeper into the chamber, something seemed out of place, so she tilted her head just enough to see out of the corner of her eye. In a dark corner half behind a drape, she spied a chair with a broken arm - and a set of long fingernail marks above it on the wall.
“Come over here.” Hector walked over to his drink table with a sway in his hips and heavy footsteps. “How about that drink?”
Livia came into the light, but kept the footboard of his bed between the two of them.
“I just got a new bottle of…” Hector searched the table - “oh, shit. Where is it… ah!” He pulled out a wine bottle. “There we go. Chernika. Fresh from a shipment last month.”
“Really?” Livia looked bewildered. “Isn’t that a Severin wine?”
Hector looked up from the bottle. “Why?”
“I didn’t think we were importing Severin goods.”
“I have it sent in from a village by a couple of collaborators. You know, like the ones who sent Ciacco my silver.” Hector snickered to himself. “They’re so chicken. They shit themselves every time I write to them. I get wine. I got that fur blanket.” He nodded across the room. “All I have to do is twist their balls.”
Livia’s eyes followed his gesture to a red fainting couch, where sure enough, a huge sable blanket lay draped over the side. Hector put on a ring with a pointed head and gripped the bottle in his other hand, and stabbed his knuckle into the cork in one vigorous thrust.
“Do you think I’m a strong man, Livia?”
Livia blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“You heard me. Do you think I’m strong?”
Livia went for the safe answer. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
“I mean, what do you think a strong man is?”
“That’s a good question,” Livia stalled. “Maybe it’s a man who works through setbacks instead of being defeated by them.”
“And you think that’s me.”
“You could be.”
Hector kept pressing. “You’d describe me like that.”
“Well, it’s more important what you think of yourself, isn’t it?”
Hector grunted. “Huh.”
Livia stood still, waiting to see where the surreal conversation would go next.
“See - all throughout your life, there’ll be people who tell you ‘no,’” Hector said. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.”
Livia watched Hector wrestle with the wine. “Have you?”
“Uh-huh.” Hector tugged a little harder, but the cork didn’t budge. “I’ve met a lot of people like that. Who tried to get between me and what I want.” He tried and tried, and his cheeks flushed and the tendons in his wrist bulged. “And you know what I’ve figured out about them? They’re afraid of me. They know how powerful I am, so they want to stop me in my tracks.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. It’s why you have to keep your foot on their neck. You have to show them they can’t… urgh! Do it to you.” Hector wrenched the cork out. “Nobody gets to turn me down.”
Livia winced as the cork popped, then took a quick breath and regained herself.
“Livia…” Hector filled a goblet and picked it up without pouring one for her - “I know there are people in this court who want to get rid of me.”
Livia raised her eyebrow at the empty goblet, but didn’t comment. “Do you?”
“I do.” Hector nodded. “That’s why I brought you here.”
“Is it?”
“I want you to find them.” Hector stared straight in Livia’s eyes. “And take care of it.”
Livia tensed. “How? I’m just a courtier.”
“That makes you perfect for the job. You can go anywhere. Do anything.” Hector gestured to the hall. “They’ll never know you’re onto them.”
“Your Majesty…” Livia hesitated - “I don’t have to tell you this, but plotting to commit regicide is a very serious charge.” She spoke with slow, careful words in an unthreatening voice. “Once you put it on the table, it’s hard to take it off. You should only go ahead with this if you’re certain.”
Hector dropped the pitch of his voice. “I am.”
A silence hung over the room, and Livia swallowed the lump in her throat.
/>
“Well - it’s an interesting offer,” she bluffed. “I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“You do that.” Hector smirked at her. “Ask Marcus if he wants to help.”
Livia’s blood drained from her face as her stomach hit the floor.
“You’re a mysterious woman. You know that?” Hector paused for a sip of wine. “In fact, until about ten years ago, it’s like you didn’t exist at all.”
Livia scanned the room every time Hector broke eye contact, and she spotted an empty wine carafe on the end of the drink table.
“And then you showed up with no last name and a wardrobe full of clothes. The last heir of some made-up family.” Hector raised his eyebrow. “Is that right?”
Livia scooted closer to the table and didn’t answer him.
“Now, I figured that could mean one of two things. Maybe the coin wasn’t yours. Maybe you fucked somebody over to get to the top. I’d respect that.” Hector swilled the remaining wine in his goblet back and forth. “Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe somebody important set you up. Somebody like a king… or queen… who wanted to keep an eye on their court.”
Livia circled away from Hector as Hector paced toward her, until she positioned herself within arm’s length of the carafe.
“Three weeks after my coronation, my personal bodyguard disappeared. They found his body on the beach a day later.” Hector squinted. “Was that you?”
“No.”
“Two months later, one of Delphinia’s advisors escaped to Kaditha. Nobody’s heard from him since. Was that you?”
Livia recoiled. “No!”
“Or was it the time you ordered flowers for Camilla…” Hector advanced on her - “to send her crawling back to Demetrio?”
Livia noticed a fruit knife on the drink table, and her shoulders tensed.
“I know who you are.” Hector came closer and closer. “I know what you and Marcus have done.”
“If you don’t get away from me…”
Hector pinned Livia to the wall. “You’ve fucked with me for the last time.”
Hector lunged for the knife, and Livia’s instincts kicked in. She reached across herself and grabbed the carafe by its thin glass neck. As Hector snatched the knife and raised it, Livia swung the carafe down, smashed it on the end of the table, and slashed across Hector’s face.
