Page 70 of Poisoned Empire

“Fuck the empire! I ruled as the tyrant who made even stones bleed, and the empire survived. After all the work you’ve done, all your reforms that have made life better, don’t you deserve some small happiness, independent of how it benefits anyone else?”

Belisarius needed to learn to be selfish. But the very suggestion had his son’s eyes turning stormy, his lips thinning in a furious line.

“The empire survived because mother dedicated her life to tending it. How can I betray that effort by letting my emotions get the better of me?”

Darius sighed and fixed his son with a hard stare. Is that what Belli had thought all those years? It hurt his heart to know his own son thought so little of him, and that their teachings were now preventing him from having something good and real in this life of games and artifice.

“Listen. Your mother and I ruled as a team, always, in everything. Who do you think helped my campaign against the other kingdoms? Who do you think had the idea to use the Ritual to ensure victory? Which of us do you think first showed absolute cruelty, then the possibility of mercy? The answer isbothof us. Behind closed doors, your mother could be a hot-headed tyrant, same as me. It was only outside that we appeared any different. Did you think any action we took was not first discussed in detail? Hells, even that leech I skewered was someone your mother and I thought needed to disappear to keep the peace. Your mother was a wicked genius, Belli, and I loved that about her. I was the spear, the tyrant, the distraction. Nadia was the shield, the politician, the strategist. Without her wisdom, my strength, and our shared vision, none of this would have been possible. We both kept the empire from crumbling.”

Belisarius was quiet for moment, as if coming to terms with this new view of his beloved, virtuous mother. He had only known her as a loving, protective presence in his life; someone who challenged him intellectually and taught him the intricate dance of court politics. Perhaps his son didn’t understand that all the violence and threats over the years had been the result of both their calculating minds.

“I still find myself with the same problem. I cannot make Selene into a politician. I must marry someone who can take on that role.”

Darius guffawed at that, which left Belli with a very sour look on his face.

“You don’t need another politician by your side.”

Darius raised his hand to forestall the objections.

“You’re already a consummate politician. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a silver-tongue. What you need is a tyrant. The more fearsome, the better. Let the nobles come begging for your mercy after speaking with your wife, and let them be grateful to you for your benevolence, however small and sparing. You are respected by many, but they must also fear you. Let them believe you are the only thing keeping them from suffering at your wife’s hand.”

Belisarius mulled it over, his eyes widening as he took a reluctant shine to the idea. Good. Darius pressed the advantage.

“You will be emperor one day very soon. You, not the praetor. His advice is valuable, but at the end of the day, it is you who rules over Lethe. If you truly desire the poison mage, then the two of you must find a way to make it work.”

A knock at the door interrupted the intimacy of the moment. A servant entered and bowed deeply. The mask slammed down over his son’s face.

“Prince Belisarius, I’ve come as you requested to remind you of the evening’s activities.”

“I will be there in a moment.”

The servant bowed once more and left the room. His son’s mask slipped as he smiled. A real smile.

“Thank you, Father.”

Darius’ heart warmed. When Belisarius left the room, he sipped his drink. There was always the possibility that the poison mage had no desire to remain by Belli’s side. Only time would tell. For everyone’s sake, Darius hoped she stayed.

Domina Emerald had made good on her promise of pariah status. While noblewomen had avoided Selene before, they now made exceptionally wide berths around her person. The noblemen very carefully kept their eyes averted or set their gazes above her small frame. Aside from the prince, only Lord Renfreid bothered to ask her to dance with any frequency, and even then, the griffin was much too absorbed making up for lost time between the sheets. She did her best not to roll her eyes. This was far preferable to having to sit and make nice with snide strangers or banter with condescending gentlemen. The only women who dared sit next to her were her sisters. Thankfully, they were all being dutifully escorted by Nicephorus’ lackeys. But tonight she could use a distraction, and there were precious few.

Selene’s dreams had become disturbingly vivid. Faceless women would hold her tight until fire engulfed them and darkness swallowed her whole. The past few nights the dream assaulted her whenever she closed her eyes, and not even her time in Belisarius’ bed could give her a peaceful sleep. The nightmares gnawed at her heart like a rat chewing its way through a wall, filling her with dread. Last night, she’d woken to her own screaming. She was being torn apart at the seams by something she couldn’t touch, couldn’t fight. Whenever her mind wandered, she found her hands touching her chest, fingers probing for a wound that wasn’t there. She was so tempted to tell Belisarius about it, for fear it was some kind of curse he might be able to dispel. But every time, she held herself back. It was one thing to share her body, another to be vulnerable.

Her anxious spiral was interrupted when Burgundy was placed beside her, her minder making noises about refreshments. Normally, they sat in companionable, if awkward, silence. Tonight, that changed.

“Have I misbehaved?” Burgundy asked in her dull tone.

“How the hells would I know? Pretty sure you’re incapable of it.”

“Father would be angry if I did.”

“Father is a sick fuck, Burgundy. He doesn’t care about you.”

She seemed to actually be thinking this over.

“He cares very much about Dimitri and about his guest in the mask.”

“Yes, he would care about his heir. The little ghoul is very much a chip off the ol’ block. Who’s the guest though? I don’t remember seeing anyone arrive while I was there.”

“He lived with us for some time, though he does travel often. I don’t know his name as I was never properly introduced.”

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