The Empress of Xytae Page 11

  Ioanna had come to her grandmother expecting little more than a luxurious exile, to only remain on the estate until she was thrown out for dragging political machinations into the former empress’s home. But now Grandmother Irianthe wanted to be her ally. She had never bothered to even hope for such a thing.

  “But even if I am crowned empress, what good can I do if everyone at court hates me?” asked Ioanna. “If they all band together to work against me…”

  “Well, the easiest solution is to execute the loudest of them and give their titles to your friends,” Grandmother Irianthe said. Ioanna cringed. “But I think you’ll soon see their religious convictions are not so firm as they claim. Oh, I am certain they make quite a show of their devotion to Reygmadra now, but their true allegiance is to their own comfort—their families, their lands, and their gold. Let them go on as they always have, and they’ll find it’s not worth the trouble to stand against you.”

  Ioanna was not sure if she believed that.

  “Now,” said Grandmother Irianthe. “There are some people who are waiting to speak with you.”

  “With me?” Ioanna blinked. “Who—?”

  “They arrived a few days ago.” Grandmother Irianthe got to her feet and moved toward the door. “Wait there. I’ll send for them. I’ll admit I wasn’t as hospitable to them as I might have been. I did not wish to believe they were telling the truth.”

  Baffled, Ioanna remained in her seat and listened as her grandmother called to a servant out in the hallway. Who could possibly have come to see her? Her only guess was some friends or allies of Netheia’s—or maybe some priestesses of Reygmadra in disguise? She expected they’d come to warn her that the moment she took a step outside of Oredia, she’d be arrested. Or maybe they’d not bother with words. She flexed her fingers and prepared to summon a shield.

  The door opened, and Grandmother Irianthe returned. Behind her stood a man who appeared to be about fifty. His clothing was simple but very fine in quality as though he was a nobleman who did not have to dress to receive visitors today. His hair was cut short in the style a soldier’s might be, but he did not give Ioanna the impression he was searching for a reason to fight unlike the way her sister and her friends always did.

  Ioanna looked up at him curiously, and he stared down at her. There was wonder in his eyes. Perhaps Grandmother Irianthe had not told him she would be waiting for him?

  “Ioanna,” said Grandmother Irianthe. “This is Knight-Commander Livius of the Order of the Sun. He arrived several days ago.”

  In that moment, Ioanna was seven years old again, crouched over a page in the darkness and writing an awkward letter to a man she could not remember. Back then, the world had felt big and terrifying and impossible to navigate, but she’d always hoped she’d grow to match it.

  Ioanna leapt to her feet, not caring for the furniture or the myriad breakable ornaments Grandmother Irianthe had decorated the room with.

  “Knight-Commander Livius,” she gasped. She began to reach forward, to clasp his hands, but then stopped herself because surely that was too familiar a gesture. “What—how—it’s, it’s wonderful to see you. But how…?”

  For Knight-Commander Livius had been exiled from Xytae along with the rest of the Order of the Sun. Ioanna had always supposed she would have to send for him sooner or later. She had certainly not expected him to come searching for her.

  “I am glad to see you as well,” said Knight-Commander Livius. “I was going to be terribly embarrassed if you never turned up. Your grandmother has been extremely patient with us, considering I had no proof of my claim.”

  “But if you arrived here days ago…” The journey from Ieflaria would have taken weeks. “How did you learn of my father’s death before we did?”

  “A dream,” said Livius. “Or a vision, I suppose. The most intense, vivid one I have ever experienced. When I awoke, I knew I must go to Oredia immediately to meet you. I admit, I spent a great deal of time doubting myself and considered traveling to the capital instead. But now I am glad I did not.”

  “I am as well,” said Ioanna. If Livius had been discovered in Xyuluthe, not even Ioanna could protect him from the consequences. The Order was not remembered kindly by most of the Xytan court. Still, she could not help but feel a bit neglected—why had he received a vision from Iolar while Ioanna had not? “Have you come alone? Or did you bring more paladins?”

  “I have not come with an army,” admitted Livius. “I thought it best to move discreetly until I could determine what the situation here is. I’ve brought two paladins with me, both disguised as common guards, simply for protection on the roads. When the time comes, the rest will join me here.”

  “I do not want a civil war,” said Ioanna. “I don’t want to see us turned against one another. I appreciate your aid, but there must be a way that doesn’t involve us becoming exactly like our enemies.”

  “Iolar means for you to be empress,” said Livius firmly. “And therefore, it is my responsibility to ensure that happens. I respect your blessing, and your title, but I know you have little experience commanding soldiers. If we are to work together, I ask you to trust my judgment in these matters. Believe me when I say I will never order my soldiers—or your subjects—into an impossible battle. But in times such as this, there is no high path to be taken. The only choice is to fight or be trampled.”

  Ioanna was not sure if she believed that. Even now, she felt certain there was some magical combination of words that, if she uttered them, would cause Netheia to finally see reason. She only had to discover what they were.

  “What had you hoped to do?” she asked. “I do not have any sort of plan. In fact, I thought I might be forced to allow Netheia’s coronation to proceed.”

  “I don’t propose we go directly to Xyuluthe,” said Livius. “I have been informed we still have three months before the coronation. I suggest we spend that time rallying more supporters for you.”

  “You mean the rest of the Order?” asked Ioanna.

  “No,” he said. “Though certainly more will come now that I’ve confirmed the situation here.”

  “Ioanna, Xytae is in turmoil,” said Grandmother Irianthe. “We’ve painted a pretty glaze over it, but it is beginning to crack. Gather the people to your side by speaking of your plans for peace. It should not be difficult, given the condition of things.”

  “I cannot ask farmers to stand against imperial soldiers!” cried Ioanna. “I’d be a murderer!”

  “And what do you call standing back and allowing your sister to continue your father’s work?” asked Grandmother Irianthe. “One way or another, they will die—whether it’s on the end of a Masimi blade, or in their own villages when there’s no food left in the storehouses.”

  “It cannot come to that,” said Ioanna, but even as she spoke, she remembered all she had seen between leaving Xyuluthe and the present. “Xytae is not that near to ruin.”

  “These things can happen very quickly, Crown Princess,” said Livius. “Especially now that the empire is so weak. How much of your harvest is being sent to the soldiers? What do you suppose will happen if there’s a blight next summer?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Besides, I think we can get some of the minor nobility to your side,” said Grandmother Irianthe. “The ones not wealthy enough to live at Xyuluthe year-round. I’ve no doubt they have felt the effects of the war far more keenly than anyone in the capital.”

  “I, I’m tired,” murmured Ioanna. “Please…can we discuss this later? Tomorrow? I can’t think—I need to—”

  Grandmother Irianthe opened her mouth, and Ioanna knew she was going to object, but Livius spoke first.

  “Of course,” he said. “You’ve had a difficult journey, and I’ve given you quite a lot to think about.”

  Ioanna was escorted to the room she had always stayed in on the rare occasion she visited her grandmother. It was among the largest of the guest rooms, second only to the one reserved for her parent
s. In an odd way, Ioanna was grateful she had not been moved up to that room. She was not ready for it. Perhaps Grandmother Irianthe had known this.

  She had no things to unpack, but the wardrobe standing in the corner was full of anything she might need. Some of the clothes were too small, left over from childhood, but plenty would be acceptable to wear in the coming days.

  “Hellooooo,” sang Vitaliya brightly, opening the door without knocking and making Ioanna jump. “This place is nice. Nicer than the palace, I think. Certainly cleaner—no offense meant. Are you doing all right?”

  Ioanna did not reply, too taken aback to formulate an immediate response. By the time she managed a rather weak “You might have knocked—” Vitaliya was already chattering.

  “They tried to send Otho into town, but I held my breath until they agreed he could stay. I don’t think he appreciated it. He kept saying he was happy to leave! But he deserves to sleep in a proper bed, don’t you think? Even if it’s only for one night. These servants had better not be rude to him, or I’ll be so difficult! You can’t imagine how difficult I can be!”

  “Are you going home?” asked Ioanna, closing the wardrobe and turning away from it.

  “What?” Vitaliya sounded confused. “Am I—what?”

  “Or to Ibaia? You said you wanted to. There’s no reason for you to remain here. It may even be dangerous.”

  “What?” Vitaliya shook her head. “What are you talking about? No. I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay here.”

  “Why?” This isn’t a game, Ioanna wanted to say. This is not some petty diversion. If I handle this poorly, it might ignite a civil war. Men will die. I could die. You could die. Do you understand? Do you understand how serious this all is? Do you even understand that serious things exist?

  “Well…” Vitaliya bit her lower lip. “I think I can do more good here than anywhere else. People are hungry, and I can make the plants grow. Maybe it’s small, but it helps. And besides, even if it didn’t…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What?”

  “You seem like you need someone to be your friend.”

  It was not a lie, and so Ioanna was at a loss. Had anyone, in her entire life, spoken those words to her and meant them? Surely Vitaliya had an ulterior motive. Everyone did. Even the priests, though genuinely kind, hoped someday Ioanna would put a halt to the constant, excessive veneration of Reygmadra and restore Iolar’s worship.

  “What else?” pressed Ioanna, stepping closer. “What do you want for yourself? For Vesolda?”

  “Um…” Vitaliya shook her head again, more vigorously this time. “I’d like my things back. I mean, the dresses we had to leave behind in the palace. It’s not terrible if I don’t get them, but some of them I liked. And there’s some jewelry too, if it hasn’t been stolen already.”

  “What else?”

  “I don’t know!” Vitaliya sounded a little concerned. “Am I forgetting something? I feel like there’s something you want me to say, but I don’t know what it is.”

  Ioanna turned away and went to go sit down on the foot of the bed. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

  Vitaliya brightened up again. “In a good way? Or a bad way?”

  “Good, I think,” admitted Ioanna. “You’re so straightforward, and when you lie, it’s only about silly things to make us laugh. You really don’t want anything, do you?”

  “I want lots of things,” denied Vitaliya. “I want my own chickens.”

  “Not things like that. Things that nobles fight over. Power and titles and important things.”

  “I already have a title,” said Vitaliya. “If I wanted a better one, I’d have to be a queen, and then I’d have to do queen things. Having power just means having a chance to mess everything up.” She reached out to close the door behind her, then moved nearer to where Ioanna sat.

  “What would you do if you had to be queen?”

  “You mean, if everyone else died?” Vitaliya came and sat down beside Ioanna on the bed. The mattress sagged, and Ioanna set one hand down to brace herself. “I don’t know. Maybe I’d do like your grandmother did. Run away. Except at least she was responsible enough to make an heir first. I suppose I’d have to do that too. I’d make one of the chickens my heir. Then I’d run away.”

  “You don’t want to do anything for the world?” questioned Ioanna. “If you were a queen, you could change many things. Influence history. There’s so many—”

  But Vitaliya was already shaking her head. “I’d only hurt people,” she said. “I wouldn’t mean to, but it would all go wrong. And you can’t say sorry to dead bodies.”

  “You wouldn’t kill people.”

  “Not on purpose. But that wouldn’t make them any less dead. You know me! You know what I’m like. I don’t think about things long enough or hard enough. If I was a queen, I’d order something I thought was a good idea, but it would be awful, and everyone would hate me for a thousand years.”

  “I don’t think you would,” said Ioanna. “If nothing else, you’d have advisors telling you if your ideas were bad.”

  “I don’t want to take that risk. I’m selfish, I suppose. I don’t want history to remember me as the lady who ruined Vesolda.”

  “I don’t think that’s selfish if it’s coming from a place of not wanting to hurt people.”

  “Well, I hope we never have to find out. I hope my brother has sixteen children, and then each of those sixteen has sixteen more.” Vitaliya paused. “I do like helping the farms and making the plants grow. I don’t trust myself to do it on my own and for big areas like Otho does, but do you remember how happy those children were when I grew the figs for them? That made me feel so important. Not in a showing off kind of way but like I had done something really useful.”

  “You did,” said Ioanna. “It might have been the difference between survival and death for them.”

  “Oh!” Vitaliya shuddered. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too responsible. Too much responsibility for me.”

  “But it’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

  “I know. I know it isn’t rational. But that doesn’t stop it. I can’t control my thoughts.”

  “Who taught you to think in such a way?”

  “I don’t think anyone meant to. But my brother and I were tutored together, and it was all so serious and important all the time. It’s no wonder I decided to just not be important.”

  “I don’t think you’re unimportant.”

  “That’s too bad. I try very hard at it!” Vitaliya smiled again. She smelled of jasmine, Ioanna realized, because a little sprig of it had been woven through her hair. Had she grown it herself in the garden? “If I’m annoying you, though, I can leave. Not just the room, I mean. The whole country.”

  “You’re not annoying me.” It was strange, considering, well…everything about Vitaliya, but it was the truth. “Maybe I’ve been needing someone like you. At court it’s so easy to forget that sometimes people are just happy.”

  “I’m sorry you had to live that way. I’m sorry so many people in Xytae are living that way. But if anyone can change it, I think you can.”

  “I don’t know,” whispered Ioanna. “I should be grateful for my grandmother’s support. I should be grateful for the Order of the Sun. But for some reason, all I can think of is how everything would be so much easier if I just gave up on being empress and let Netheia have her way. Maybe I’m just a coward.”

  “Not wanting to die doesn’t mean you’re a coward!”

  “Or selfish. So many people will suffer if Netheia is empress. I shouldn’t even be considering…”

  “Thinking about possibilities isn’t selfish,” asserted Vitaliya. “You’re feeling guilty for things you haven’t even done yet. And probably won’t ever do, knowing you.”

  Ioanna felt one side of her mouth curl into a smile.

  “Well,” said Vitaliya. “Maybe I should go—”

  I
f Ioanna had ever acted on thoughtless instinct before in her life, she could not remember it. It was as though her body had been taken over by something else as she lurched forward and brought her hands to Vitaliya’s face and pressed their lips together in a kiss. She only had a moment to consider Vitaliya’s soft lips, and her warmth, and the sweet scent of fresh flowers about her before she regained her senses, and she pulled away, horrified with herself.

  “I—I’m sorry—” stammered Ioanna, mortified. “I’m…I don’t know why I—”

  But Vitaliya was laughing. And it was not a scornful or derisive laugh either. It was happy.

  “If you’d wanted me to stay, you could have said so!” She caught Ioanna’s hands and grasped them loosely in the space between their faces. “Don’t—don’t be embarrassed. Please. You’ve been alone for so long. I’m glad you want me near.”

  “I should have asked—”

  “I like surprises.” Vitaliya leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Ioanna’s. “Really. I promise.”

  It was not a lie. Of course, it wasn’t. Vitaliya never lied when it mattered. Ioanna didn’t know what to say. She had never thought she’d be in this position with anyone, let alone a foreign princess. Vitaliya seemed to realize it too because she said, “You’ve never courted anyone, have you?”

  “No, I, I never accepted anyone who wanted to.” Because they had all been scheming, seeking the sort of power only the emperor’s daughter could grant, and Ioanna had never been lonely enough to overlook it. “In the palace—you know—they’re all so…”

  “Yes,” agreed Vitaliya. “I don’t think I’d want any of them either.”

  “They were all liars,” Ioanna said, and the words came out in such a rush that she was afraid Vitaliya wouldn’t be able to understand her. “They, they would bring me gifts and they would say all these things, the things you’re supposed to say when you’re courting someone. But it was always lies, and it was terrible, like being slapped again and again—”