Page 23 of A Reign of Embers

“We can all contribute there.” Bianca pauses and glances over her shoulder at her companions: Baronissas Hivette and Damina, who’ve often stood by me when I’ve taken my minor stands; the elderly Marchionissa Lucrene, who’s always seemed to hold herself above palace gossip; and a couple of middle-aged vicerines I’m not as familiar with, who duck their heads at my gaze.

Her smile turning wry, Bianca shifts her attention back to me. “The six of us were talking about joining in the combat training you’ve taken up. If you don’t mind having the company, and if the soldiers will tolerate the occasional additional intrusion.”

Of all the proposals she might have made, I’d never have expected that one. “You want to learn how to fight?”

Bianca lifts her shoulder with a careless air, but her eyes are sharp as ever. “The men of court generally learn some ofthose arts in their younger years. But not all of us have a husband around to defend us—and why shouldn’t we pitch in to defend our empire if there’s need? Plenty of commoners become full soldiers despite being women. There’s no reason we can’t pick up a few tricks. Our empress has inspired us.”

She outright grins, and I can’t help grinning back. She has a point there. And she must be feeling a little unsteady in her position with her husband banished to their estate, as welcome as his absence might be.

The two baronissas are married to each other, with no interest in entangling themselves with men. The marchionissa is a widow. I believe one of the other vicerines has never married, and the other… She’s attached to that viceroy who tends to be lost in his cups before dinner’s even over, isn’t she?

Perhaps if they set the standard, more of the court’s ladies will expand their horizons as well.

“I don’t see why that should be a problem,” I say. “I’ll speak to Captain Evando, who’s been overseeing my own training, during my next session.”

“Perfect.” Bianca gives me a sharper smirk. “We can’t let any tribunes get ideas about this palace being easy pickings.”

I bite back the comment that it’s probably not the tribune we most need to worry about. From what Bianca has reported over the past several days, attitudes throughout the court have remained mainly in my favor, but today’s events might have shifted them. It’s impossible to know who the godlen of war could be working on through dreams and visions they don’t dare speak of openly.

As that thought passes through my head, I catch sight of Neven’s white-blond hair where he’s strolling around a nearby fountain. I meant to speak with him when I had the chance.

“I look forward to seeing us all increase our might,” I tell the noblewomen, and glide off toward the young prince.

Neven glances up at my approach, his shoulders momentarily tensing. Even when he relaxes, his stance remains a little awkward.

The prince of Goric has never looked as though he’s sure how he fits in here.

I veer to fall into step beside him, and he gamely wanders on as if there’s nothing unusual about my coming over.

“I’m glad you got through the challenge today without any harm done… to you or those of us at court, anyway,” he says after a moment.

“Thank you again for your forewarning. You’re obviously well in tune with your godlen’s moods.” I grapple with the phrasing of my request. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any sense of how she feels about my handling of the challenge. I was hoping to impress rather than offend her, but I realize it was a tricky balance considering the circumstances.”

Neven’s mouth twists. “I haven’t gotten any impression that she’s celebrating the outcome. I suppose I’ll see what dreams come tonight.”

“If you can read any signs in them, good or bad, I’d like to hear about it. I do want to make peace with her… however exactly one does that with a godlen of war.”

A strained guffaw tumbles out of the prince. “It might take some time with how riled up she seems to be.Ithink you showed plenty of strength.”

With Neven having become one of my biggest critics until recently, I’ll take that comment as a victory in itself.

The corner of my mouth quirks upward. “It’s easier to show your true self when you’re not cast in a much longer shadow.”

Neven rubs the back of his neck. “Yes, I can see… why you had to make certain compromises.”

Axius crosses our path. He takes in our odd pairing before dipping in a brief bow to me. “Your ImperialHighness, you look rather serious. You know if you have any concerns about your security, you can come to me.”

He’s one to talk, when his grizzled face is as grim as always. Perhaps he’s recalling that Neven and his princely foster brothers were there to help rescue me from the fire when he wasn’t.

“No new concerns,” I reassure him. “Neven has felt Sabrelle’s divine influence in the past… After today’s confrontation, I thought he might have useful information to share.” I cock my head. “Are you dedicated to Sabrelle yourself, High Commander?” It’s the most common godlen dedication among military folk, for obvious reasons.

Axius shakes his head. “I made my appeal to Creaden. It was always my goal to lead our might as well as I could and to build on the empire’s strengths.”

At least I don’t have to worry about the godlen of war muddlinghishead with unnerving dreams, then. Assuming she’s the only divinity who’s taken an issue with my conduct.

“I don’t suppose Creaden has blessed you with any dreams or visions about our immediate future,” I ask in as casual a tone as I can summon.

“As far as I can tell from the prayers I’ve made, he wants me to continue to direct you along the best path I can.”

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