9Imperial Intrigue
Chapter 4 – Second Encounter
Alex stared at Kariane's unconscious figure, lying still and helpless on the bloodstained stone floor. Kariane had been mercilessly tortured, an undeserved punishment Alex had indirectly caused. Swaying precariously, she too crumpled to the floor.
When Alex awoke, she lay in her own canopy bed, between silken iridescent sheets. Her suite was deserted, just as she had specified in the emergency procedures. And a fainted monarch certainly counted as an emergency.
She was ashamed of her weakness – she wasn't a simpering court lady, to faint at the sight of blood! However, when she tried to climb out of bed, she discovered that her legs refused to hold her weight. She collapsed in an ungainly heap, shivering from the icy marble tiles.
As usual, Kera came to rescue. Appearing out of nowhere, the maid rushed over and gently helped her mistress back into bed – while ignoring Alex's quite vocal curses. Kera was about to slip away when she heard Alex's tired voice. "Kera."
The clear fatigue in the queen's tone was alarming. Concerned, Kera tucked in the sheets more tightly and replied, "Yes, my lady?"
Eyes already half closed, Alex whispered, "The intruder. Transfer her to better lodgings and makes sure her wounds are taken care of. I'm so sorry, Kariane…"
The mistress's request was odd – why would she want a prisoner treated so well? But Kera was used to Alex's quirks, and she dutifully sent a servant to attend to the queen's wishes. After all, it was not her place to question orders.
Two days later, Alex opened her eyes once more and was happy to find that she had recovered all of her former strength. Her first thought was Kariane – was she all right? Intending to visit Kariane, wherever she was, Alex dressed in a plain blue linen gown and sturdy black boots. She'd bought the dress on her way back from Daggerdance District one day, but somehow it had been buried in her closet and had only just seen the light of day. The boots were her usual fighting boots, worn every day for two years during her stint as a student of the College of Daggerdance. They had served her well and embodied many fond memories.
Alex strolled past the guards at her door, ignoring their gaping stares at her outfit. She deliberately headed toward the servants' wing of the palace before doubling back to question a passing maid. With her exotic appearance, she was extremely noticeable; fortunately, auburn highlights were common and the rest could easily be hidden. Certainly Kariane had never noticed anything, even without magical shielding – most of the general population had never really seen their queen.
The maid replied to Alex's question with a huge load of unrelated gossip, but there was useful information woven in. Apparently, quite a commotion had been stirred up when an unnamed prisoner was brought up from the dungeon on a stretcher and transferred to an infirmary room. There was no mention of Alex's own trip from the dungeon; she could only suppose that they had taken pains to keep her weakness secret. It made sense – news that their monarch had fainted would cause mass panic.
Recognizing the maid as a never-ending gossip pump, Alex engaged her in conversation and managed to discover Kariane's room number. She thanked the maid and moved on, making a conscious effort to blend in with the crowd.
Room 304-F was indeed an infirmary room, and it was locked. Glancing around furtively, Alex unlocked the door with her master key and slipped inside. She closed the door as quietly as she could, but the slightest squeak of the hinges stirred Kariane. She awoke with a start and a cry of pain, trying to get into a battle-ready position but handicapped by her injuries.
"Kariane! Don't worry, it's me." Alex hurried over to the bed, wincing at the sight of dried blood on the bandages wound around her friend's back and chest. "Do you remember me? It's Alex."
Relaxing, Kariane slowly lay back onto the bed. "Thank Sierra, Siena, and Silea. You're the only person I know in this wretched place."
Alex pulled up a nearby chair and asked curiously, "But why did you come? The Rogue have never stolen from the palace."
Kariane smiled bitterly. "Very true. All imperial property is respected, even if Crown law is not. But I did not come here to steal."
"Then why are you here? You've taken a terrible risk. I saw the mages raising the wards on the wall a few days ago. You're trapped. It hasn't been officially announced, but an entire regiment of guards is – or was – assigned to flushing out the intruder. That's you, isn't it?"
Staring at the ceiling, Kariane's gray eyes were filled with pain. "I had no choice. The Lady has not sanctioned my trip – she would rather leave Kyle to rot. She doesn't care."
"Kyle?" The name was unfamiliar, but Alex vaguely remembered Kariane gushing about a cute boy in one of the other classes. "Was he that boy you were infatuated with?"
Kariane smiled again, and it was a real, happy smile. "We're engaged. We were to be married in a month, but then… then Kyle was captured." She seemed to gather strength before continuing. "It was supposed to be just a routine mission. Break into the house, take some jewels. Nobody gets hurt. But the house was the home of an advocate with martial arts training, and Kyle was forced to knock her unconscious. Then the Sentinels arrived, a full squad of them. He didn't stand a chance. A trial wasn't even necessary, because the advocate was a minor member of the nobility. Now Kyle is imprisoned in the imperial dungeon for life, and lucky not to be sentenced to death or torture. Luckier than me."
"But why was he taken to the imperial dungeon?" It didn't make sense to Alex. "The dungeons in the palace are reserved for only the most important prisoners."
"It was all just bad luck. The advocate was the granddaughter of an important court judge, the only girl out of six children." Kariane sighed. "And what's to happen to me? The torture's done and over with – I suppose next is interrogation, then execution."
Alex bit her lip, wondering how much she could tell Kariane. "Listen, do you want me to get you out, along with Kyle? Don't ask me how, but I can do it. I promise you."
Amazingly, Kariane shook her head. "I won't have you risking your job for me. I know how merciless the Crown is with traitors – they consider me one, after all. I wouldn't wish that fate upon anyone, except maybe the Lady."
"But you don't understand!" Alex said vehemently. Frustrated, she decided to plunge ahead. "I–I haven't been completely honest with you."
Kariane stared at Alex, surprise and confusion written on her face. "What do you mean? Aren't you a servant in the palace? What, are you a–" her face darkened, "noble?"
Alex looked away, unable to meet Kariane's accusing eyes. "We're not all cruel and heartless. You should know me better than that, to apply such prejudice!"
"So you are noble," Kariane whispered. "What have I done, inviting you into the College?" She shook her head. "But you're right. If you're noble, then I must revise my opinion of the nobility. Still, nobles haven't any extra protection when it comes to charges of high treason."
Alex hesitated. Should she really tell Kariane everything? Could she? "Kariane–"
Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door. Alex jumped and hurriedly stood up, in time to greet the prison guard who had been sent to continue the interrogation. She tried to usher the guard outside, but it was too late. The guard instantly dropped to one knee. "Your Majesty! What brings you here?"
Alex pushed the guard into the hall and shut the door behind her, but not before she caught the shocked expression on Kariane's face.
The guard was harshly reprimanded, of course, and Alex was too preoccupied to explain her curtness. She was busy worrying about how Kariane would take the sudden revelation. Nobles in general were despised in Daggerdance District; the queen was slightly more respected, but more as a matter of tradition than real reverence. And no matter the person's rank, deception was never taken lightly.
Alex was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she walked right into Lady Renei Chanterelle, who wasn't paying attention to her surroundings either. Renei barely looked at her before sneering, "Watch where you're going, wench. It's rude to bump into your superiors."
Startled, Alex looked at Renei in amusement. "Yes, very rude. So why did you just do it, Lady Renei?"
Renei froze and looked at Alex again. As she recognized the familiar figure before her, wearing commoner clothes, a pink blush spread across her cheeks. In every aspect except personality, Renei was the perfect model of a lady – even in times of chaos. She quickly curtsied, opening her mouth to utter a polite, groveling apology.
"Save it," Alex cut in. She was in no mood to endure more of Court's supposed pleasures. Wanting nothing but to escape from Renei before any awkward questions could be asked, she ducked into the nearest doorway.
Or tried to, anyway. Alex pulled and yanked on the half-rotted wooden handle of the door without success, before giving up and expending a great deal of raw magic to twist the lock open. She slipped inside the room and closed the door, hearing it click reassuringly shut. Only then did she look around her temporary sanctuary.
The room was a long abandoned storage cell, cast in deep shadow with dim light from an iron ceiling grille. The dirty stone floor was strewn with equally dirty straw, and an even dirtier, stinking bucket stood in the farthest corner. However, the most surprising element of the room was not its condition, but the teenage boy sitting glumly in the middle of it, knees hugged to his chest.
The boy looked up, and Alex saw with distaste that not only was he covered with filth, but he wore a metal collar around his neck. A slave, then. This confinement was probably a punishment for one thing or another. She was about to turn away and leave when she saw the faint hope in the boy's black eyes. Against her own good judgment, she took a hesitant step forward.
As the door creaked open, Christos glanced upwards and saw none other than the queen herself, dressed like a servant in plain linen. The queen looked back at him and his filth with obvious condescension, but nevertheless, she stepped forward. He took this as a sign of encouragement and croaked, "Water… food…"
His words seemed to shock the queen, who quickly demanded, "Who is your mistress? She will not get away with this abuse!"
Christos felt a sudden, irrational urge to laugh. Lady Renei was noble and a member of the Imperial Court – though he did not know her family, it was likely very influential. Furthermore, he knew from experience that betraying one's master (or mistress) inevitably brought painful consequences. But the queen had saved his life; he owed her a debt too enormous to ever repay. So he said simply, clearing his parched throat, "I know my mistress only as Lady Renei, Your Majesty."
The queen stared at him, surprise and then anger registering on her pretty face. Her hand went to her throat while she muttered foreign words similar to those Renei had spoken; Christos had no time to ask questions before swirling violet mist threw him into nothingness and pulled his very soul into a thousand pieces.
Christos screamed in agony, but sound did not exist within the void. Miraculously, however, the queen seemed to hear him and floated into view, pulling insistently on his fragmented existence. He resisted at first, knowing that the return would be excruciating, but the queen refused to release her hold. Step by step, he reluctantly retreated from the void and into harsh reality.
The waking was even more painful than he had imagined. His body convulsed, unwilling to accept an already departed soul. Christos was tempted to go back to the comfort of the void, but the memory of the queen's will stopped him. She would follow him in and drag him back out, he was sure. Fighting the pain, he forced his eyes open and saw the queen on her knees beside him, clutching his hand and looking pale from exertion. Bringing him back had cost her dearly in strength, and seeing her instantly made Christos feel guilty.
When the queen saw that he was awake, she released his hand and pressed her palms together in silent prayer, whispering, "Many thanks for yielding back a soul, Silea." Then, amazingly, she stood and sliced her arm open with a jet-black crystal, grimacing as the blood was absorbed into the crystal.
Curiosity at such a strange ritual gave Christos the strength to sit up. He asked shakily, all proper rules of protocol forgotten, "What are you doing?"
The queen looked at him calmly. "You have come very close to perishing in the void, and as it was my fault for not warning you, I must pay the price of salvation. Only by Silea's will did you return safely, and she has always required blood sacrifice as thanks. Not to mention a great deal of my energy."
Christos gasped and attempted to stand, but his knees buckled. The queen grabbed his arm and steadied him, guiding him firmly to a lavishly overstuffed armchair. She herself did not sit down, however, making him feel extremely uncomfortable. Instead, she left through a curtained doorway with a passing order, "Stay there and rest for a while. I need to change before your mistress arrives."
His mistress. Christos shuddered at the thought of Lady Renei's wrath. There was no way he could escape unscarred this time, especially as he had done exactly what he had been told not to do. But there was nothing to do but wait. As he waited, a thought occurred to him: his blinding hunger and thirst was completely gone. It was a strange phenomenon, and he resolved to ask the queen about it when she returned.
However, presently the queen swept back into the room in a flurry of blue silk and Christos was distracted from his thoughts. The queen wore a flowing ocean blue moonsilk gown with silver satin bell sleeves, platinum laurel bands encircling her upper arms and wrists. Her hair was wound in a braided crown, and a simple silver circlet indicated her rank. It was a stark contrast to her former attire, and Christos sank to his knees in awe. "You are as beautiful as you are kind, Your Majesty."
The queen replied icily, "Do not be blinded by appearances. All too often, they only deceive. There are few people in this world who would describe I as kind. I much prefer ruthless, myself." As she arranged her skirts delicately on an ornate mahogany bench, she added, "Get up and sit down. It will do your health good, and make an impression on Renei at the same time."
Appropriately chastened, Christos did as ordered and said adamantly, "A ruler can be both ruthless and kind, Your Majesty."
"And pray, what information can you base such strong opinions on?" The queen was annoyed, but she did not have a chance to utter a rebuke, for at that moment a young slave woman entered the room and curtsied.
"The lady Renei has arrived, my lady."
The queen nodded. "Send her in. A private audience, I think." She glanced at the slave woman, who nodded imperceptibly.
A few moments later, Lady Renei entered with a soft rustle of expensive satin. Renei was dressed modestly in somber brown, a high collar and tight sleeves covering every inch of skin. The white veil of an unmarried noblewoman obscured her face, and a garnet drop on a thin gold chain hung between her eyes. Lady Renei presented to the queen a pure image of modesty and chastity – the image of a typical Court lady, for whom every day was a masquerade ball.
Renei sank into a deep curtsy, her knees almost touching the floor. She was silent, bowing her head and waiting for the queen to speak.
The queen was silent for a long time as well, before finally speaking in a cold, commanding voice. "You may rise, Lady Renei."
Demurely, Renei straightened and clasped pale ivory hands in front of her gown. "Your Majesty honors me with a summons." She kept her eyes on the floor, and so did not see Christos lounging nearby.
"Hardly. I have not summoned you for any frivolous reason." The queen's tone was irritated. "What possessed you to lock your slave in a sealed room without basic food or water?"
Renei gracefully knelt. "I am saddened to disappoint Your Majesty by my personal discipline of a slave. If Your Majesty takes offense, I beg Your Majesty's utmost pardon. Furthermore, I thank Your Majesty most profusely for taking the pains to return my slave to me." She glanced up for a second, saw Christos's relaxed form, and froze.
Christos felt a chill run down his spine as he met Renei's stare. He forced himself not to flinch as an expression of pure hatred flickered across his mistress's face before it became a perfectly composed concrete wall.
"If Your Majesty takes offense from my actions, I beg Your Majesty's utmost pardon," Renei repeated. She stood and turned to leave, adding in a haughty voice that promised new horrors, "Come, boy."
"I did not dismiss you, Lady Renei," the queen said in a calm, controlled voice. Anger simmered just below the surface, but for now no emotion was present in her words.
Renei turned back and curtsied, her knees barely bent. She asked mockingly, "Your Majesty has other business with me?"
The queen stiffened and retorted, "As a matter of fact, I do, Renei. I have no intention of releasing this slave back into your custody – and as I performed blood sacrifice on his behalf, it is my right to deny your request. May I also remind you that the next Court session is in three days? You do remember what will occur then, don't you?"
Renei flushed a very unladylike red. "As Your Majesty commands," she said tightly.
The queen glared at Renei for several minutes in tense silence. Finally, she snapped, "Dismissed. And if you cannot control your tongue, perhaps some corrective surgery is necessary." It was a threat, Christos realized with a shiver. What kind of situation had he gotten himself into, under the power of such an unpredictable girl?
Alex watched Renei curtsy and leave, angry at both the annoying woman and herself. Having lost the argument, Renei would surely report the incident to her mother. She had threatened Renei with dire consequences for losing her temper, but the truth was that she herself had lost control. Renei had a unique ability to goad her past the breaking point – someday, Alex knew, the weakness would be her downfall.
Renei was a troubling matter, but more pressing was the matter of her slave. Alex had no idea why she had balked from surrendering custody of the boy – of course, he technically couldn't be called a boy, being around the same age as herself. She didn't even know his name, although that would be remedied shortly.
"What's your name?" Alex abruptly turned to the boy sitting nervously on the armchair next to her.
"C-Christos, Your Majesty." The boy seemed to be intimidated, though he had spoken with her casually enough when she'd performed the blood sacrifice. Why did everyone have to be so afraid of her? It was frustrating, never knowing how she would be regarded.
"Surname, age, and skills?" Alex pulled out a black ledger, the records of all her personal slaves. She flipped to a clean page and wrote 'Christos' under the first column, penned in neat calligraphic handwriting with a black fountain pen.
"I am eighteen years old and have no surname, Your Majesty." Christos carefully studied the floor. He seemed to be hiding something; however, Alex sensed that it was a harmless secret and didn't' press the inquiry.
"Skills, then?"
Christos started. "Um… well, I'm trained in hand-to-hand combat, and I'm all right with a sword." He bit his lip and said nothing more.
Alex was becoming more and more curious about this slave's secrecy, but she merely nodded and entered the information in the ledger. Snapping the book shut with a startling bang, she capped her pen and laid both on a nearby table. "You might as well join the squad, then. Come, you'll need to get your uniform and settle in."
Sovereign led slave to a set of rooms near the imperial suite. The rooms were secured with an ominous brass lock, though the key Alex handed to Christos was amazingly small. An elegant piece of wrought silver scrollwork, it hung discreetly on a plain metal chain.
The door swung open to a deserted cubicle area – lockers lined the walls of the bare whitewashed room, with two parallel benches on either side. Alex strode to a random locker and pulled it open, unabashedly tossing selected items to Christos from a neat pile of folded clothing inside.
Christos caught the clothes easily, but he had to do a bit of juggling before he could sort through them. A pair of sturdy boots, serviceable underclothing, and several sets of black leggings and tunics embroidered in violet with the imperial crest – the uniform was very well made. However, Christos was obviously mystified, both to his new position and to how he was to change in front of a female.
Realizing this dilemma, Alex quickly retreated to the inner room, mortified. She leaned against the door in relief and was surprised to find the other four members of the Imperial Guard sound asleep in their beds (and thankfully, still dressed in their uniforms). True, they'd been dismissed to personal duties, but that didn't mean they could all take a nap! She said coolly, projecting her voice to fill the room, "Since when has the Imperial Guard permission to sleep in the middle of the day?"
Her voice stirred the four young men. The first to rise was Marius, a tall boy of sixteen years with dark cropped hair and emotionless eyes. Marius immediately swung his legs over the side of the cot and knelt silently on one knee; an abusive childhood as the second son of Baron Ralin Stieg had frozen his demeanor, but he was infinitely loyal and an expert with the sword.
At the other end of the room, a lanky boy with the same eyes yawned and pushed his shoulder-length hair out of his face, smiling cheerfully at Alex. Corian, Marius's elder brother and his opposite in personality, was eighteen and had joined the Guard of his own accord, against his father's will. Now he said blearily, "Your Majesty? What are you doing here?"
Alex's stiff posture relaxed as she crossed the room and said exasperatedly, "Waking you up, as usual. Or did you not hear what I said before?" She picked up a wooden comb from the dresser and tossed it at Corian. "And as I've told you ten million times before, my dear bodyguard, you can either cut your hair or keep it neat."
Corian obediently sat up and yanked the comb through his hair a few times, wincing as tangled knots refused to give way. He struggled on, not making much headway, until finally Alex sighed and snatched the comb back, untangling his hair herself. She was just tying Corian's hair back in a low ponytail when the door slowly swung open.
Christos walked into the room, clad neatly in leggings and tunic. Smiling tentatively, he looked at Alex and stopped. "Your Majesty… I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
There was an audible thud as the comb fell to the polished wooden floor. Alex felt her cheeks grow warm, a sensation she had not experienced since many years ago, as a small child – she was blushing. Uncomfortable, she quickly moved away from Corian and went to rouse the other two members of the Imperial Guard.
In the last cot – next to the empty bed that would soon belong to Christos – a muscular boy with untidy brown hair lay snoring. Even a slap across the face by Alex didn't faze him; in fact, he barely stirred until Alex twitched and knotted a handy piece of string, muttered a few words, and magically lifted the still-sleeping boy six feet into the air – and then dropped him.
The boy groaned and pushed himself into a sitting position, glaring openly at the person who had dared to wake him. "What was that for?" he demanded.
Alex met his eyes with a steely stare. "I am your sovereign, Flavian Larchmont. I have the right to do absolutely anything to you, with or without good reason. Never forget that."
Flavian stood and gave a stiff bow. "As you wish, Your Majesty," he sneered.
The last remaining member of the Guard was also the only commoner – Davis Windemere, heir to the wealthy merchant house of Windemere. Davis had originally joined the army, transferring to the Guard – which was generally comprised exclusively of nobility – after Alex saw him sparring in the practice yards. This unusual induction method caused much animosity, especially between him and Flavian.
Davis woke upon hearing the commotion, but he was slow to rise. Rubbing his eyes, he saw Alex and gasped, leaping out of bed in an instant. "Your Imperial Majesty!"
"Good afternoon, Davis," Alex said calmly. She glanced around the room, still not meeting Christos's eyes, and continued, "While everyone is still awake, I would like to introduce Christos. As of today, he will be joining the Imperial Guard."
Instantly, there was an outburst of protests; only Marius remained silent. Corian expressed pure surprise, while Davis murmured a few noncommittal words. It was Flavian who voiced the concerns they were all thinking, with the outraged exclamation, "Majesty, this boy is a slave of no consequence! He does not deserve the honor of defending you!"
"I will be the judge of that," snapped Alex. "You have no choice in the matter – and as for his age, Christos is no younger than I."
When silence met her harsh reply, Alex strode curtly out of the room, leaving Christos to the mercy of his new roommates.