Page 2 of A Reign of Embers

We haven’t had any chance to speak in private since the fire. All the secrets of my crimes hang in the air between us, alongside the ways we protected each other in the end.

I need to know where I stand with him. It feels safer to have him nearby than roaming through the palace that used to be his all day, doing gods know what.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to throw caution to the wind. Just because he saved me a few hours ago doesn’t mean I can count on his continued devotion.

Four more figures followed him down the hall with equal haste if more quietly. I look past my husband to the princes who played an equal part in saving my life. Three of them are the people I trust most in this world, who’ve defended me through so many troubles before this.

I lift my hand as if to brush a stray strand of my hair back behind my ear and make a discreet gesture. Lorenzo catches the message and gives a slight nod in answer. All four of them drift away.

Girding myself, I take on my best imperial tone. “You’ve all served me admirably, and I’m sure efforts are already underway to bring Tribune Valerisse to justice. For now… I must admit this morning’s havoc has left me shaken. Marc did see me through the worst of it. I feel I would sleep better with him guarding my door from the inside as well as the four of you without.”

Of all the things I could criticize Marc for, he’s never been slow-witted. I’m sure he can realize that I’d like to speak privately.

No doubt he has plenty of things he’d like to say as well. He draws himself straighter with a hint of eager energy. “I would be honored to serve the empress so.”

My other guards exchange looks, but Dariu’s rulers have beaten obedience above all else into their staff. And there’s no denying that I have plenty of reason for rattled nerves and to seek security in the supposed newcomer who rescued me from both a murderer and a deadly blaze.

In the silence of their acceptance, I brush my hands together. “Let us have a pallet brought first in case my rescuer needs to take his own rest. He can lay it by the door and remain on guard.”

A page arrives with the requested pallet a few minutes later—all the delay I needed. I step into the chambers that still hold a trace of my husband’s tart-and-smoky cologne from when these rooms belonged to him, a mere year ago. Marc enters at my heels and shuts the door behind him.

My heart thuds faster, chasing away my exhausted daze. I walk to the foot of the bed where someone has brought my two trunks—scorched but not burnt through—and sit on the lid of one.

A soft mew makes my pulse skip a beat in a much happier fashion. My tabby cat, Sprite, darts out from beneath the bed to bump her head against the side of the trunk in an appeal for a petting.

She’s no longer limping. One of the medics must have healed her from the injury Linus dealt her.

As I rub her chin to her pleased purr, Marc sets down the pallet by the threshold. He approaches me, stopping when he’s a few paces away.

For a moment, we simply hold there, looking at each other.

Abruptly, he reaches into his pocket and extends his hand to me. The hilt of a small knife protrudes from his fingers, held so the blade is toward him rather than pointing at me.

“You should have this back,” he says in that odd combination of familiar cadence but altered timbre.

It’s my knife—the one I tried to defend myself with against Linus, the one I handed Marc so he could see his scar in the reflection. The one he gave to me to begin with, back when we were first married.

The one I braced over his heart last night after I spilled every dark secret I have in an attempt to provoke his rage.

I take it from him, careful not to let my fingers brush his, and set it next to me on the trunk. I’ll need to recover my belt sheath or obtain a new one if the old was consumed by the fire.

I suppose this is as good a starting point for the necessary conversation as any. “After what I told you yesterday, I’m surprised you wouldn’t prefer to stab me with it.”

Sprite leaps up onto the trunk and tucks herself close to me as if she’s preparing for him to try. I stroke her soft fur, but my gut stays twisted.

Marc’s throat bobs. “If that were my intent, I wouldn’t have killed Linus to stop him from doing as much himself.”

My mouth slants into a tight, wry smile. “I’m still not sure why you did that either.”

“Aurelia…” He appears to grope for words, which maybe isn’t surprising. He’s had far more shocking revelations dumped on his head in the past day than I have, and he probably got even less sleep last night, if any at all.

His expression firms. He sinks to his knees and sits back on his heels so he’s looking up at me rather than down.

“I had a lot of time to think after you left me tied up in that room,” he says. “Some of those thoughts were angry. But I can’t say I was angrier with you than with myself. No matter how many circles my mind runs in, I know I soured our relationship long before you ever strayed, from that first day you brought me your tea and I scoffed at it. There were things—I had reasons you might not agree with—but for a lot of it?—”

He stops and seems to gather himself again, his gaze holding mine. “I’ve been satisfied and proud in my life, but I’ve never felt happiness like some of the moments I’ve had with you in the past several months. To stand with a partner whose wits and fortitude match my own, someone who’ll talk to me asmenot just as an heir or an emperor… And I had no idea what I really had, just how keen your mind is, just how devoted you are to the people who’ve earned your loyalty and how much danger you’ll endure for them. As much as I wish I could have been among that number, I can see that was impossible when I’d betrayed your trust before we were even married.”

I don’t know what to say to all of that. A lump fills my throat, nearly choking me.

---