Page 77 of Poisoned Empire

Selene’s eyes went wide and she swirled around, looking at the armoury anew.

“It’s better than seven out of ten? You perfected it?”

Ilana nodded proudly.

“And you negotiated per arrow, yes?”

“Uh.”

Selene groaned dramatically.

“What do I always tell you? If they want it badly enough, you should make them bleed gold for it. Never mind. We’ll renegotiate. I can’t believe no one told me about this. You’d think Belli would’ve mentioned something given I fucked him nearly blind. Damn ingrate.”

“Not going to go running for memory flowers this time, are you?” Iliana teased.

Iliana could’ve sworn Selene flinched. She started toying with the end of her long braid. It wasn’t just the vulnerability that was new. Had Selene caught feelings for a man? Iliana made heroic efforts to repress a shout of excitement. Her plan could finally start to take shape.

“Not for that, no. He even wants me to stick around.”

“That’s good news…right?”

“I don’t know. What does he even want from me? We both know I insult him just to see that little vein in his neck pound. I’m stealing things these days just to see if he notices, so we can argue about it later. I’ve threatened enough noblewomen to burn every bridge in the empire twice over. The rest of the time, I’m testing how many of the praetor’s spies I can poison or evade. I mean, I know I’m a great lay, but you can see why I’m confused, right?”

Iliana was beginning to see why the praetor always had a short fuse over matters concerning Selene. As for the prince, she wasn’t certain of his intentions. He must at least be quite infatuated with her friend. Iliana had come to know the open secret of the prince’s aloofness towards women from the many gossiping noblewomen she spent her evenings with. But the emperor himself seemed to have taken a shine to Selene. Surely that meant the old man approved of how close his son had gotten to her? If Iliana could nudge her in the right way, maybe there was a chance she and her friend could be happy in Nadioch together.

“Selene, I’d bet good coin you’re the first person outside his family that just treats him like-”

“A hot piece of ass?” Selene smiled winningly.

“I was going to say like a person instead of a prince.” Iliana frowned. She thought Selene’s lack of any sense of deference was just a touch suicidal, but for whatever reason the gods had smiled upon her. It was very much in keeping with Selene’s approach to things to careen through life balanced on the edge of a knife. Perhaps, like herself, the prince was captivated by the promise of madcap adventure in her grin. “But I suppose the more important thing is, do you like him enough to want to stay?”

She watched as Selene played with her hair. Again. It shocked her to no end, but Selene was well and truly infatuated. Iliana kept her poker face studiously in place.

“I maybe want to keep him,” she mumbled shyly.

Iliana bent down so her eyes were level with her friend’s and placed her hands on her shoulders. This was just the chance she’d been hoping for. She’d anticipated that a good dose of the praetor’s warnings would push Selene further into the prince’s arms. It seemed to have worked.

“How badly?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Do you want to share him with some other woman who considers herself your better?”

“Of course not.” Selene frowned.

“Then become empress in truth. You’re more than ruthless enough to outcompete any of the other women who want him. And I know just the thing to help you tip the scales in your favour.”

Selene was pleased to find that pretending to be the fiancée of the prince, however temporarily, had its benefits. Private rooms with personal spaces free from the empty expressions of her sisters, a terrace that looked out onto the gardens, a slew of servants who didn’t need to be taught to keep their distance unless summoned, and fancy seats at both the Odeon and Hippodrome.

A dressmaker had come to take measurements and hold up what seemed like millions of swatches to her face—all in imperial red, of course. A jeweller had been next, then the shoemaker, then a perfumer, and on and on it went until she declared herself done with the business. She supposed Belisarius wanted this to seem as real as it got in order to lure the magistri peacefully to the capital, their spies reporting back that she was being pampered in the extreme. Selene allowed herself a girlish grin while imagining herself in one of those dresses. With Iliana’s skills playing a role, Selene had no doubt their fathers would be swiftly cornered and imprisoned.

She’d managed to keep herself so busy during her days—and Belisarius busy during the nights, and sometimes mornings and impromptu afternoons—that she scarcely had time to think. Even now she devoured books on history, statecraft and the economies and peoples of the provinces. If she was going to stay, she reasoned she should at least be able to offer an educated opinion here and there. Iliana had helped, curating a whole host of books for her to read. Belisarius would find her new knowledge impressive, maybe even consider her a real candidate for empress. He already knew she was strong and ruthless enough, but she would prove she was clever, just as Iliana had suggested.

Selene clawed her way to her goal with the same ferocity that she protected her nascent hope. It was all that stood between her and the pain in her chest whenever she thought of Dihya. It was tolerable, so long as she surrounded herself with busyness, Iliana, Belli and Darius, things she hadn’t had years ago when the wound had festered, nearly killing her. She reasoned she would be able to keep it together long enough not to need a memory mage immediately. But if the time came, where to find one this time around? The wily mage had erased their image from her mind along with her pain, but even now their identity was a mystery to her.

A knock on her door roused her from her musings. Another perk of being an especially honoured person in the palace? The library brought whatever she wished directly to her.

“You may enter.”

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