Rise of Empire (The Riyria Revelations #3-4)

“Yes, Your Grace, but there are some last-minute prep—”

Saldur took her angrily by the arm and dragged her inside the staging room. Modina was wrapped in a robe and the two handmaidens fussed with her hair. They both stopped abruptly and curtsied. Saldur took no notice.

“Must I waste my time impressing on you the importance of this day?” he said while roughly releasing her. “Outside this palace, all of Aquesta is gathering, as well as dignitaries from all over Warric and even ambassadors from as far away as Trent and Calis. It’s paramount that they see a strong, competent empress. Has she learned the speech?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Amilia replied with a bowed head.

Saldur examined the empress in her disheveled robe and unfinished hair. He scowled and whirled on Amilia. “If you ruin this—if she falters—I’ll hold you personally responsible. A single word from me and you’ll never be seen again. Given your background, I won’t even have to create an excuse. No one will question your disappearance. No one will even notice you’re gone. Fail me, Amilia, and I’ll see you deeply regret it.”

He left, slamming the door behind him and leaving Amilia barely able to breathe.

“Your Ladyship?” the maid Anna addressed her.

“What is it?” she asked weakly.

“It’s her shoe, milady. The heel has come loose.”

What else could go wrong?

On any ordinary day, nothing like this would happen, but that day, because her life depended on it, problems followed one upon another. “Get it to the cobbler at once and tell him if it isn’t fixed in twenty minutes, I’ll—I’ll—”

“I will tell him to hurry, milady.” Anna ran from the room, shoe in hand.

Amilia began to pace. The room was only twenty feet long, causing her to turn frequently, which made her dizzy, but she continued it anyway. Her body was reacting unconsciously while her mind flew over every aspect of the ceremony.

What if she leaps off the balcony?

The thought hit her like a slap. As absurd as it seemed, it was possible. The empress was not of sound mind. With the noise and confusion of thousands of excited subjects, Modina could become overwhelmed and simply snap. The balcony was not terribly high, only thirty feet or so. The fall might not kill the empress if she landed well. Amilia, on the other hand, would not survive the incident.

Sweat broke out on her brow as her pacing quickened.

There was no time to put up a higher rail.

Perhaps a net at the bottom? No, that won’t help.

The problem was not the injury. It was the spectacle.

A rope?

She could tie a length around Modina’s waist and hold it from behind. That way if she made any forward movement, Amilia could stop her.

Nimbus returned, timidly peeking into the room. “What is it, my lady?” he asked, seeing her expression.

“Hmm? Oh, everything. I need a rope and a shoe—but never mind that. What about the dress?”

“The seamstress is working as fast as she can. Unfortunately, I don’t think there will be time for a test dressing.”

“What if it doesn’t fit? What if it chokes her so she can’t even speak?”

“We must think positively, my lady.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Your life isn’t dangling by a thread—perhaps literally.”

“But surely, Your Ladyship, you cannot fear such repercussions merely from a dress alteration? We are civilized people, after all.”

“I’m not certain what civilization you’re from, Nimbus, but this one can be harsh to those who fail.”

Amilia looked at Modina, sitting quietly, oblivious to the importance of the speech she was about to give. They would do nothing to her. She was the empress and the whole world knew it. If she disappeared, there would be an inquiry and the people would demand justice for the loss of their god-queen. Even people as well placed as Saldur could hang for such a crime.

“Shall I bring the headdress?” Nimbus asked.

“Yes, please. Anna fetched it from the milliner’s this morning and likely left it in the empress’s bedroom.”

“And how about I bring a bite for you to eat, my lady? You haven’t had anything all day.”

“I can’t eat.”

“As you wish. I will be back as soon as I can.”

Amilia went to the window. From this vantage point, she could just see the east gate, through which scores of people poured. Men, women, and children of all classes entered the outer portcullis. The gathering throng emitted a low murmur, like some gigantic beast growling just out of sight. There was a knock at the door and in stepped the seamstress with the gown in her arms as if it were a newborn baby.

“That was fast,” Amilia said.

“Forgive me, Your Ladyship, it’s not quite done, but the royal tutor just stopped by and said I should finish up here, where I can size it to Her Eminence’s neck. It’s not how things are done, you see. It’s not right to make the great lady sit and wait on me like some dress dummy. Still, the tutor said if I didn’t do as he said, then he—” She paused and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He said he’d have me horsewhipped.”

Amilia put a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. “He was not serious about the whipping, I can assure you, but he was quite right. This is too important to worry about inconveniencing Her Eminence. Get to work.”

They dressed her once more in the gown and the seamstress worked feverishly, stitching in the rest of the collar. Amilia had begun to resume her pacing when there was another knock on the door. With the seamstress and maids occupied, Amilia opened it herself and was startled to find the Earl of Chadwick.

“Good evening, Lady Amilia,” he said, bowing graciously. “I was hoping for a word with Her Eminence prior to the commencement.”

“This is not a good time, sir,” she said. Amilia could hardly believe she was saying no to a noble lord. “The empress is indisposed at the moment. Please understand.”

“But of course. My apologies. Perhaps I could have a word with you, then?”

“Me? Ah, well—yes, I suppose that would be all right.” Amilia stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

Amilia expected the earl would make his issue known right then, but instead, he began to walk down the corridor, and it took a moment for her to realize he expected her to follow.

“The empress is well, I trust?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, glancing back at the door to the dressing room, which was getting farther and farther away.

“I’m pleased to hear that,” the earl said, and then suddenly added, “How rude of me. How are you feeling, milady?”

“I’m as well as can be expected, sir.”

If Amilia had not been so consumed with thoughts of the empress, she would have found it funny that an earl was embarrassed by not immediately inquiring about her own health.

“And it’s beautiful weather for the festivities today, is it not?”