Page 29 of Poisoned Empire

“Have I impressed you?”

Raucous cheers erupted from the soldiers. Marduk tossed his hilt on the ground and grinned, the look in his eyes wild.

“May I?” he asked.

Iliana handed him the reformed blade. He whistled as he swung it experimentally.

“It’s a thing of beauty.”

Iliana did her best not to preen too obviously at his praise.

“It’s the first time I’ve experimented with that enchantment. I’m pleased that you approve.”

He stared at the melded blade anew and tested its weight.

“The contract? It’s yours—if you want it.”

Iliana smiled and curtsied. It was all she could do not to squeak and scream and jump with excitement. Her inner metals mage drooled at the prospect of playing with rare ores. Rumour had it they could hold endless enchantments.

“I’ll give it serious consideration.”

Just as Marduk was about to speak, a twinkle in his eyes and a roguish grin making her heart flutter, a familiar voice cut through the animated conversation of the sparring grounds.

“Domina Sapphire, may I interrupt?”

Marduk watched as the praetor looked Iliana up and down, glaring, his lips curled in disgust. His hand shot out from his pristine robes, demanding hers. She curled in on herself, shoulders tight as she catalogued every supposed fault in her appearance. Trying to tuck her wild platinum locks away only made the state of her hands clear, and in attempting to hide them in her skirts, her eyes tracked every dark smear and wrinkle in the fabric. The master metals mage shrank as she held out her hand like a misbehaving child.

Usually, Marduk got on well with Nicephorus, but this scene struck him as profoundly ugly. Just seconds ago, she had been full of deserved pride, vibrating with barely concealed excitement. Now that woman had been washed away, found wanting by someone wholly unappreciative of her gifts. Even his men had gone silent, their gazes burning holes of distaste into the person of the praetor.

“My apologies, Praetor. Domina Sapphire was busy leaving us in awe of her skill. I would be honoured to escort Her Resplendence to her next appointment.”

Marduk stepped forward and snatched her hand out of the air before it could reach that of the praetor. He tucked it into the crook of his arm once more, his free hand covering hers. She would be under his protection from now on. If the praetor wished to criticize and belittle her, he would have to go through Marduk first.

Clearly displeased, Nicephorus dropped his hand, his smile tight and unconvincing.

“Very well. If you would please follow me.”

When Iliana’s hand tightened on his arm, a little flutter of warmth bloomed in his chest. He felt even taller than his seven feet as he walked behind the praetor, a talented beauty on his arm.

Chapter 11

Belisariussighed,pushingawayfrom the reports littering his desk. After news of Iliana’s gift to him had spread, his other bride candidates had made a game of it, hoping to earn themselves his favour through increasingly elaborate tokens of affection. The latest and most extravagant gift had come from Domina Opal. Being the only daughter of a magister had the advantage that all her father’s efforts were focused solely on her, rather than spread out amongst several daughters. Consequently, Belisarius was now the owner of an ill-tempered griffin.

Lethe kept to itself, and so mages generally had little knowledge of or contact with the creatures and peoples of the other lands. From his recollection, griffins were noble beasts capable of communication with other species. This one only shrieked indignantly. He would have to find a way to return it to its own lands without causing offence. Yet another task added to his growing list of responsibilities.

It was a strain to reign in his wandering mind as the praetor addressed him in his study, giving him the most succinct summation of the many goings-on of the empire.

“The horses have been prepared, Your Royal Highness,” Nicephorus announced after one of the notarios whispered into his ear.

“Hopefully this activity will prove to be less fraught with complications than those of the past few days,” Belisarius grumbled, shoving unwelcome memories of Selene’s smug grin from his mind.

A mounted hunt would appeal to the more athletic of his prospective brides. He had no need for a woman who couldn’t handle more than the occasional ball. The responsibilities of an emperor required stamina. The position of empress would be no less exhausting. The solitary nature of a hunt would also ensure he’d be unable to accept further gifts. He should be relieved, yet something sat ill with him. He paused in the act of standing.

“Your Royal Highness?” Nicephorus asked.

“Do they even know how to seat a horse?”

“To whom are you referring?”

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