Page 12 of Poisoned Empire

“A domina is to arrive at her destination in full splendour. A domina does not subject herself to commoners unnecessarily. We will remain in the carriage,” Diodora pronounced woodenly.

“Yes, Your Resplendence.”

Iliana held back a whimper. Her ass had gone numb from the carriage bench hours ago. She would have loved to have seen the Hippodrome, even from afar. Chariot racing was a thrilling sport, though she supposed the racing arena must be empty now if carriages were parking inside it. Unfortunately, the extra idle time meant she had longer to wallow in fear.

If she sought help from one of the men in the palace, would they help her? Or were they all as cruel as her father? Iliana’s experience with nobles had been limited to her interactions with her family this past month, and she hoped they weren’t representative. How far would the sympathy of a stranger take her, when she was in truth just a bastard daughter with no money, land, title or elemental gift to make her respectable in their eyes? Was her only hope to flee for the coast once this farce was over?

Much as she hated to admit it, Iliana had begun to rely quite heavily on Selene and her mad schemes. Her friend had a way of looking at a problem of any size and seeing it as just another quaint test of her sharply honed survival skills, damn the consequences. In that way, she greatly admired her friend’s bravery. In contrast, Iliana had spent her life hiding as best she could. Sure, she’d learned how to live in an unjust, unpredictable world, but she barely kept her head above water rather than being master of her own fate. As she looked into the deadened blue eyes of her sisters and clutched the lacquered box close, she wondered if she’d begun to drown already and just hadn’t realised it yet.

Even so, she had at least one card to play.

Sooner than she expected, they stopped at the palace entrance. With a flourish the doors of the carriage were opened and she was helped down the step, her thighs aching from disuse. The footman wore a dazzling, fitted tunic of deep red and taupe, his brown leather boots so shiny they nearly blinded. His perfectly manicured hand held hers with utmost confidence.

“Welcome to Nadioch, Dominae of Magister Sapphire.”

Selene kept her eyes open and her mouth shut as she scoped out the palace, its fortifications and the positions of its guards, exits and servants’ corridors. It was no easy feat, as every available surface was covered in busy patterns; mosaics under her feet, rich tapestries along the walls, painted columns, and gold and silver leaf glinting in the arched ceilings above. Knowing where to go in this maze could mean the difference between a clean getaway and capture.

First and foremost, she would find Iliana. If Magister Sapphire’s daughters had been sent without her, then it was possible her friend was either still a captive or... dead. She tried not to dwell on that possibility. If nothing else, she could torture the information out of the Sapphire women. Once Iliana’s location was certain, she would need to gain access to the library and steal the Poison Compendium, maybe even get her hands on a few rare poisons from within the palace itself. Then she’d take all the jewels her foolish father had sent with her sisters and buy passage off this rotten continent with her friend in tow.

Now that the unwed daughters of the various magistri had been gathered in a ballroom, separate from the lower tiers of the nobility, she had her chance to search for her statuesque friend. She wove through the crowd, catching the flavour of the gossip. A number of noblewomen had been barred entry to the palace, their parentage called into question by a blood ward ensuring they were of their fathers’ loins. The gossipers tittered behind bejewelled hands about the loose morals of the soon-to-be-divorced illustrae and nobilissimae of the empire. Selene did her best not to roll her eyes.

There were only seven provinces; Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald, Diamond, Topaz, Amethyst and Opal. No daughters would be coming from the Ruby Province, as the prince held the title of Magister Ruby and, luckily for him, marrying cousins had gone out of style a few generations back. All in all, there appeared to be nearly thirty women vying for the position of princess consort. Selene pushed past nobles and their attendants, looking for Iliana, but she was stopped by the sound of a deep, bellowing horn announcing the arrival of the prince into the lavish hall.

Selene stopped in her tracks and curtsied as she’d been taught. When a royal attendant called for the women to raise their heads, she took in the appearance of the prince, as well as the men flanking him. He’d brought what seemed to be the highest ranking in his service. The big beast mage was obviously some military type, the stripes on his tunic and thick leather belt buckled with a large gold disk denoting his esteemed rank, while the others appeared to be advisors, their palliums perfectly arranged around their shoulders in varying shades of red. There was at least one man for every woman present. She wondered idly if the dominae considered anything less than the position of Empress rotten luck.

Her eyes fell back on the prince, a man she’d imagined to be portly, with arrogance woven into lines of his embroidered robe. Instead, she was forced to admit he was rather handsome, his dark hair and eyes complementing a terra-cotta complexion, his nose a touch long, his lips full. An appearance marred by the gaudy imperial red he wore, coupled with ruby accessories of every imaginable kind and even a few she’d never dreamed of. The other dominae were equally encumbered in their flowing silk gowns, weighed down by silver and gold embroidered patterns and twinkling jewels sewn throughout, every piece of jewellery on their persons heavy, ornate, and worth a small fortune. Anger blossomed in Selene anew. Even one of their ridiculous gowns would be enough to live comfortably on for decades. No onehadto starve in Lethe, but the greed of nobles ensured there were plenty of empty stomachs to go around.

“We will now begin your presentation to the Crown Prince Belisarius Bloodstone, Magister Ruby, and future Emperor of Lethe, the Empire of Mages.”

What pithy remark would she lay on the prince to make Burgundy, Copper and Carrot seem merely dull in comparison? A threat? Sexual innuendo? A bold challenge? Maybe all three? She also listened for Iliana, daring to hope she still lived. Each woman was introduced and allowed to curtsey, then the prince took her hand and kissed the back of it. A few short pleasantries were exchanged before the mechanical process was begun again. It was difficult to see the other women as they had shuffled out into a more or less straight line across the width of the room.

“Domina Milena Amethyst, Your Royal Highness.”

Burgundy elbowed Selene, and she realised it was finally her turn. She curtseyed with the best of them and then raised her head. When the prince went to take her hand, she let her grin turn roguish.

“Only a truly bold man would kiss my hand knowing what I am. A poison mage has no use for a gutless suitor.”

The best way to be eccentric in this crowded field? Admit to being ignoble and show not an ounce of shame about it. He rose a notch in her estimation when he didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, his eyes sparkled with amusement as his lips met her bare hand.

“And here I had assumed that it wasyouwho had come to bemysuitor,” he said.

Her smile said that he must be a simpleton and her giggle was salt in the wound. If his odd expression was anything to go by, he was not used to women treating him like he was beneath them. Eyes slyly on him as he greeted her sisters, she measured him up. It was hard to discern his physique beneath all the ceremonial glitter and silks, but his hand, though perfectly manicured, had born calluses. He played the part of the consummate gentleman, unflappable and a smooth talker to boot. How much fun would it be to see him on his knees?

As she mused about how to bring the prince low, she heard the sound of Iliana’s voice. Her heart leapt and she held back a cry of relief. She was alive! It took more will that she’d imagined not to push every person aside and leap into her friend’s arms. What had the daft announcer called her? Roxane? Thank the gods she was in the palace and not in the Sapphire Province or worse. Iliana words were indistinct, but she presented the prince with a jewelled box. One of the prince’s attendants took the gift from her while the prince thanked her graciously.

Selene could only imagine that Iliana had been forced into the same ruse. If she were to stand out from her sisters, what better way than to give the prince a gift, something the other dominae hadn’t thought to do? But the longer she observed the other dominae, the more wrong her sisters seemed. Here were cheerful women with sparkling eyes, schemes in their smiles and every witty compliment rolling off their tongues. She would have to ask Iliana about it when she could. Unfortunately, the evening had only just begun. A gruelling marathon of dinner, dancing and games lay ahead, each preceded by a change of outfit. She sighed.

“A domina-”

“Don’t,” Selene hissed.

Belisarius nodded to the many dominae as his herald announced the end of the presentation and invited the women to prepare for the feast. They took their cue and sashayed past him on their way to the exit. The pompous poison mage winked at him before leaving, while the tall blonde who had given him a gift smiled shyly. The others had been perfectly polite beauties. It mattered not in the end. Nicephorus and Marduk had likely identified possible victims of the corrupt ritual. He invited them to his quarters as his attendants quickly stripped off his regalia and re-dressed him for the dinner ahead. When they were briefly alone, he began his inquiry, praying this whole ugly business could be concluded soon. He’d worked his people to the bone to set this ruse up in record time, but that meant his enemies had been given a whole two months to plan.

“What were your impressions?”

“Definitely all of Magister Diamond’s daughters, but that was something we already knew. I suspect some of Sapphire’s dominae too,” Nicephorus replied.

“What was in the box Roxane gave?” Belisarius asked.

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