Page 72 of Poisoned Empire

“If you wouldn’t mind escorting this uncultured troll to the empress’ seat, I shall endeavour not to murder you and everyone else here with their false smiles and hollow congratulations.”

He escorted her with all due haste. In moments Belisarius took her hand in his, kissing it politely. A little mischief twinkled in his dark eyes. Selene grinned, grabbed the front of his robe and pulled him in for a searing kiss. His shock was gone the instant her tongue swept across his lips, and then it was all she could do to keep her hands where decency demanded. If their kiss went on a little longer than the crowd expected, the onlookers kept their mouths shut. When their lips parted, a faint blush crossed his cheeks, his hands fisted in the material of her dress slowly releasing her. She had to admit that she did, indeed, like him ever so slightly. He was great fun to tease, a good lay, an excellent kisser and handsome. If only he didn’t have that damned crown.

Even if it was just for show, she imagined briefly what it would be like to be his bride in truth. It was a silly fantasy. A man like him would never want a woman like her to be his wife, let alone in charge of an empire. A sometime lover was as close as she would get. Her eyes swept the room, and her grin turned predatory.Eat your hearts out, snobs.

When he led her to the empress’ throne, she sat prettily as they had planned. The nobles were allowed to step close to the dais and give their congratulations. Belisarius handled all the small talk, which gave Selene the chance to size up the well-wishers.

A nondescript man with blonde hair, a ruddy complexion and pale eyes, maybe a few decades her senior, bowed deeply to both herself and the prince. She thought nothing of him until she heard his voice.

Then her night truly went to shit.

“I am unutterably pleased that you have chosen a beauty from the Amethyst Province, Your Royal Highness. My people will be delighted to hear the future empress is one of their own.”

Agony lanced Selene’s heart, her nails digging into the arms of the throne, a scream trapped in her throat. Memories washed over her, her seams torn asunder. The thing haunting her had pounced, mauling her innards. A gaping hole was all that remained of her heart, and through it, waves of grief and molten anger spilled through. The name of her foster mother, the mother of her heart, rang out in her mind. Dihya. She nearly choked on her fury as memories of warmth and love were replaced by those of despair and hopeless wrath. The memory spell she’d paid so dearly to have placed on her had just broken. Selene struggled to keep her breathing normal as a dark and terrible pain crystalized into something hot and sharp, and pointed directly at the man before her. The emperor seemed to sense her bloodlust, his warrior’s instincts turning his body to face hers. She held herself in check, but only just.

“Forgive me, but I didn’t catch your name,” Selene said, her voice low and cool.

“I am Illustrus Maksim Ignis. The pleasure is all mine.” He bowed again.

She was not mistaken. A monster in silks stood before her.

“Illustrus Maksim, I seem to recall that about ten years ago, you expanded your territory. You used fire to thin the woods and discourage bandits, did you not?”

“I’m pleased to hear you remember it, Your Radiance. Yes, we had trouble with a few tenants who refused to leave, but in the end, we were successful in transforming my land into productive agricultural properties.”

“Did you know one of those tenants you evicted was none other than the Knight Illustra Dihya Arcus, also known as the Terror of the Skies? She was a hero of the Great War.”

She’d been Selene’s hero, her saviour, the only one who’d shown the starving brat she’d been true and abiding love.

“I had no, uh-”

“And that she was killed in the fire you set on her home? One she had been rewarded with as payment for her services.”

“You didwhatto my knight?” The emperor shouted, slamming his fists on the arms of his throne.

“Your Royal Highness?” The man pleaded with Belisarius.

But Belisarius barely spared him a glance as he placed a hand on hers. Selene’s fingers ached with the need to strangle the man. He’d killed the only person she’d ever considered a mother. If it weren’t for all the people here, she would have tackled him to the ground and torn open his throat with her bare teeth. She still might.

“Is this true, Sir Maksim? Recall that you are speaking to the crown prince.”

“It was a horrible tragedy, Your Royal Highness, but the land was mine to claim.”

Belisarius turned his eyes to Selene’s.

“He has admitted his crime, Princess Consort. What should his sentence be?”

Chapter 25

Fuckingpies.Gooey,moist,fragrant, fucking pies. They’d tempted Selene once upon a time, and now it was all she could do to swing the axe up high and maim the target beneath her, failing to suppress it all.

With hindsight, she could see that the spell had been disintegrating since that first night in the ballroom. It was little things in the beginning. Dreams and wisps of memory. Then nightmares and dread. Her impending solitude, combined with that pig’s voice, had been enough to finally tear the spell asunder. It might as well have torn her in two. She struggled to make sense of the broken orphan she’d tried to forget, and the woman who cared for naught—the woman the spell had allowed Selene to become.

The worst was that, when Iliana had come to her wondering why she looked like shit, she’d bitten her only friend’s head off. Iliana’s wide-eyed hurt had made her gut churn. Another person she loved—disappointed. Selene hated herself for it, but hadn’t been able to keep the vile anger in check—about Iliana leaving, about Dihya, about being so fucking alone. Gods below, she wished she could’ve taken it back. All of it.

Unfortunately, she knew herself too well now. She needed another memory mage. While a lesser woman might choose to drink to forget her pain, it didn’t work on a poison mage. Selene preferred the fix that would keep her functioning, anyway. At least her birth mother had taught her one thing in life—never let your shit drown everyone around you. And so she hoisted her axe up high above her head and used every ounce of her strength and anger and sadness to bring it down, trying to remember and to forget.

Dihya, a war hero, discharged and forgotten in her backwoods cottage, had caught Selene stealing a cooling pie. She’d enfolded her in great, broken wings and brought her into the only loving home Selene would ever know. Dihya had civilized her as best she could, taught her to read, to curse, to fight dirty, and eventually how to be part of a family. Selene might have lived in that damn run-down cottage until she had been as old as Dihya herself, had it not been levelled by an arrogant illustrus looking to plant another crop of fucking wheat. Maksim had threatened them for weeks, but Dihya hadn’t been frightened, and Selene endeavoured to follow her adoptive mother’s lead. She’d been away at the market selling potions when the illustrus had struck.

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