Page 38 of Poisoned Empire

“I do so hate your practiced smile, cousin.”

“Then all my effort has been worthwhile. How may I assist you this evening?”

“Do not pretend you are unaware. I will be empress, and I expect you to expend your considerable resources to assist me. I have already taken care that my sisters do not interfere. I am working to ensure there are no other serious contenders as we speak. What have you done thus far?”

“I’m pleased to report that I’ve yet to lift a finger.”

“Do not toy with me, Nicephorus. The war may have forced our families to merge, but you are from the subordinate branch. You will assist me, or I shall be forced to inform my father.”

“The Magister has always coddled you and supported your ambition, but I won’t tip the scales in your favour. If you wish to become empress, then you must do so on your own. I won’t corrupt the grand, meritocratic vision of the late Empress Nadia with nepotism.”

The domina laughed, as practiced as it was vicious.

“Meritocracy is the lie told to the ignorant masses of ignobles, menials and ferals so that they remain content.”

“My bureaucrats are-”

“From noble houses exclusively, and the second sons and other castoffs at that! Pretending otherwise is wilful ignorance. The best and brightest run the provinces, the dregs serve under you and the rest resort to manual labour, I suppose. But never mind all that. I did not come to you to rehash old arguments. Support me now, and you will get your hands on those bright minds. Otherwise, you will find your office diminished in importance once I am empress.”

A short silence preceded the praetor’s reply.

“Win the prince’s heart, and I’ll move my chess pieces in your favour.”

“Very well, but I will remember your reluctance. Good evening, cousin.”

“Good luck.”

Given how much Nicephorus disliked his cousin, the domina rose a notch in Selene’s estimation. Zoe was still an entitled elementalist, but she was a noblewoman who took what she wanted, consequences be damned. She had the confidence of any magister, but also the pride. The empire regularly punished driven women like her. Although if there was one woman likely to take the seat of empress through sheer determination, she’d place money on Zoe. Poor Belli had no idea of the storm he’d unleashed.

Iliana had a newfound respect for noblewomen. Her evenings were beginning to take their toll. Every day, a new marathon of social events stretched into the wee hours of the morning. She’d been dancing with strapping soldiers and dashing noblemen for much of the past hour, passed from one set of arms to another in seamless transitions. Her shoes were already uncomfortable, and her back stiff from tensing, worried she might fumble the steps or forget to flirt with the appropriate amount of ladylike witticism. She found herself wistful for the days she would spend hours at a forge, breaking her back over swords and knives and shields, sweating from the molten heat. She prayed dinner would be served soon, or some kind soul would take pity on her and invite her to discuss inane topics near the refreshments.

“Domina Sapphire, you’re looking rather weary. Would you like to accompany me off the dance floor?”

“I would be elated, Strategos.”

Iliana smiled up at her saviour. The strategos cut a rather imposing figure in his formal military regalia. His genuine grin was a balm after all the forced smiles and chatter of the evening, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You’re in high demand this evening,” Marduk remarked.

“I could stand to be a little less popular,” Iliana griped.

“And here I thought you might enjoy the attention. My soldiers are all too eager to show you their best. I’m certain at least a few are serious in their interest.”

“You sound almost jealous.”

“I do not often meet women of your calibre. I find myself reluctant to share your time.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Strategos,” Iliana teased.

“Will it afford me a private dinner? No one looking over your shoulder, ensuring you’ve used the correct utensil or judging your every spoken word, guaranteed. As long as you don’t find my company too onerous, that is.”

“Are you quite serious?” Iliana asked, clutching at his arm. Cautious hope made her desperate. The idea of slipping off her bejewelled shoes and enjoying some private time with the charming beast mage sounded divine.

“Deadly.”

“What about the banquet?” She looked askance.

“I do not believe we will be missed,” he whispered conspiratorially.

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