The Emerald Storm (The Riyria Revelations #4)

“Well, Ella, if you have problems or other questions, you have permission to speak to me.”


“Thank you, milady. That is very kind of you.”

Amilia returned to her own work and left the maid to hers. In a short time, the servant finished and gathered her things to leave.

“Goodbye, Ella,” Amilia offered.

The maid smiled at the sound of her name and nodded appreciatively. As she walked out Amilia glanced at her hands where they gripped the bucket and mop and was surprised to see long fingernails on each. Ella noticed her glance, shifted her grip covering her nails, and promptly left the chamber.

Amilia stared after her awhile wondering how a working girl could manage to grow nails as nice as hers. She put it out of her mind and returned to her letters.





***




“You realize they are going to get wise,” Amilia said, after the seamstress had finished taking Modina’s measurements and left the chamber.

The Imperial Secretary moved around the empress’s bedroom straightening up. Modina sat beneath the narrow window, in the only patch of sunshine to enter the room. It was where Amilia found her most often. She would sit there for hours, just staring outside watching clouds and birds. It broke Amilia’s heart a little each time she saw her longing for a world barred to her.

The empress showed no response to Amilia’s comment. Her lucidity from the day before had vanished. The empress heard her though. She was quite certain of that now.

“They aren’t stupid,” she went on as she fluffed a pillow. “After your speech, and that incident with the clerk yesterday, I think it’s only a matter of time. You would have been wiser to stay in your room and let me handle it.”

“He wasn’t going to listen to you,” the empress spoke.

Amilia dropped the pillow.

Turning as casually as she could, she stole a glance over her shoulder to see Modina still looking out the window with her traditional vague and distant expression. Slowly, Amilia picked up the pillow and resumed her straightening. Then she ventured, “It might have taken a little time, but I’m certain I could have persuaded him to provide us with the material.”

Amilia waited, holding her breath, listening.

Silence.

Just when she was certain it had only been one of her rare outbursts of coherency, Modina spoke again. “He never would have given in to you. You’re scared of him, and he knows it.”

“And you aren’t?”

Again, silence and Amilia waited.

“I’m not afraid of anything anymore,” the empress finally replied, her voice distant and thin.

“Maybe not afraid, but it would bother you if they took the window away.”

“Yes,” Modina said simply.

Amilia watched as the empress closed her eyes and turned her full face into the light of the sun.

“If Saldur discovers your masquerade—if he thinks you’ve been just acting insane, and misleading the regents for over a year—it might frighten him into locking you up where you can’t do any harm. They could put you in a dark hole somewhere and leave you there.”

“I know,” Modina said, her eyes still closed and head tilted upward. Immersed in the daylight she almost appeared to glow. “But I won’t let them hurt you.”

The words took a moment to register with Amilia. She heard them clearly enough, but their meaning came so unexpectedly that she sat on the bed without realizing. Looking back it was obvious, but not until that moment did she see it. The speech was for Amilia’s benefit—to ensure that Ethelred and Saldur could not have her removed or killed. Few people had ever gone out of their way for Amilia. It was unimaginable for Modina—the crazy empress—to risk herself in this way. Such an event was as likely as the wind changing direction to suit her, or the sun asking her permission to shine.

“Thank you,” was all she could think to say and for the first time she felt awkward in Modina’s presence. “I’m going to go now.”

She headed for the door and as her hand touched the latch, Modina spoke again.

“It isn’t completely an act, you know.”





***




Waiting inside the regent’s office, Amilia realized she had not heard a word in her meeting or during the dedication that morning. Dumbfounded by her conversation with Modina—the mere fact that she even had a conversation with Modina—little else registered. Her distraction, however, vanished the instant Saldur arrived.

The regent appeared imposing as always, in his elegant robe and cape of purple and black. His white hair and lined face lent him a grandfatherly appearance, but his eyes held no warmth.

“Afternoon, Amilia,” he said, walking past her and taking a seat at his desk. The regent’s office was dramatically opulent. Five times larger than her office, it featured a more elegant decor. A fine patterned rug covered the polished hardwood, and numerous end-tables flanked couches and armchairs circling a table and chessboard. The fireplace was an impressively wide hearth of finely chiseled marble. There were decanters of spirits on the shelves, along with thick books. Religiously themed paintings lined the spaces between the bookcases and windows. One illustrated the familiar scene of Maribor anointing Novron. The immense desk, behind which Saldur sat, was a dark mahogany polished to a fine luster and adorned with a bouquet of fresh flowers. The entire office was perfumed with the heady scent of incense, the kind Amilia had only smelled once before in a cathedral.

“Your Grace,” Amilia replied, respectfully.

“Sit down, my dear,” Saldur said.

Amilia found a chair and mechanically sat. Every muscle in her body was tense. Amilia wished Modina had not spoken to her that morning—at least then she could honestly plead innocence. Amilia was no good at lying, and had no idea how she should respond to Saldur’s interrogation in order to bring the least amount of punishment to her and the empress. She was still debating what she might say when Saldur spoke.

“I have some news for you,” he said, folding his hands on the surface of the desk and leaning forward. “It will not be public for several weeks, but you need to know now so you can begin preparations. I want you to keep this to yourself until I announce it, do you understand?”

Amilia nodded as if she understood.

“In almost four months, during the Wintertide celebrations, Modina will marry Regent Ethelred. I don’t think I need to impress upon you the importance of this. The Patriarch himself is personally coming to perform the ceremony. All eyes will be on this palace…and on the empress.”