The Empress of Xytae Read online

  “I have not been assessed by the Temple of—”

  But Domite waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t care what some old men have to say on the subject. In childhood, I owned a dog. His name was Honey. He died of old age, sleeping in a patch of sunlight. Tell me where the lie is.”

  Behind her, she felt Orsina bristle. The paladin was about to object to her blessing being treated like a festival game.

  “The animal wasn’t a dog, but his name was Honey,” said Ioanna, speaking rapidly so Orsina couldn’t interrupt. “And he did die of old age, but it wasn’t in sunlight. It was raining, or nighttime.” She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut against the oppressive, distracting light of day. “Wait. I see it now. He was sleeping beside you in your bed. And he was a cat.”

  Domite did not reply immediately, but Ioanna saw them swallow. After a moment they said, “It’s a pity this didn’t happen thirty years ago when I was young enough to really enjoy it.”

  Orsina and Vel were obviously reluctant to leave Ioanna alone with the countet, but Ioanna got the sense Domite was genuinely pleased by her presence and wouldn’t require too much more convincing to contribute to her cause.

  So, while Orsina, Vel, and Vitaliya were shown to the guest rooms, Domite led her down the halls and into the garden. Domite’s home was a busy place, made busier still by the unexpected arrival of so many important guests. Servants rushed here and there, bearing piles of linens, buckets of water, and, on one memorable occasion, a whole live chicken. Ioanna tried to go slowly to keep from colliding with any of them whereas Domite moved easily through the fray.

  “Tell me about your cause,” said Domite, once they’d made it out to the relative silence of the gardens. The rain was still falling, but lightly enough they could tolerate it. “Where are your soldiers? How many do you have?”

  “We—we’re establishing a camp. At one of my grandmother’s other estates, nearer to Xyuluthe.” She was unwilling to give the exact location until she’d got a real promise from Domite. “We’re in the process of calling back as many paladins as we can on such short notice. I’m hoping for at least two hundred of them by the time we’re ready to march. My grandmother has also contributed some men of her own, and I’ve already secured a promise from Baron Camillus for a handful of soldiers.”

  “A symbolic gesture, no doubt.” One side of Domite’s mouth lifted in a crooked smile.

  “But no less appreciated,” Ioanna said fiercely. “Their situation is my own family’s doing. I will not shame them for giving what little they have.”

  “Where is your grandmother now?”

  “In Xyuluthe.”

  “How unlike her.”

  “She’s expected there for the funeral and the coronation. And she thinks she can do more for us within the court than in Oredia or elsewhere. I’m inclined to agree. I don’t want a long, bloody civil war. I want this done in one day.”

  “That’s a rather ambitious timeframe.”

  “I can see it no other way. If the conflict drags on to the point that my sister is able to call the army back from Masim, we’re finished.”

  “Well, you’re not wrong.” Domite paused. “I can assign soldiers to you. But if you let me address my people, I expect you’ll have more volunteers—if you will accept the untrained ones?”

  “Are you certain? It seems too much to ask. Surely they are needed here.”

  “I will not command anyone to stay even for Pomeria’s sake,” said Domite. “You do not need to preach to me; I understand how dire the situation has become. They would have taken up arms soon enough. Perhaps not this year, nor the next, but certainly within my own lifetime.”

  That was a sobering thought, and Ioanna could not keep the alarm from her face.

  “Sometimes I forget how different it is in Xyuluthe,” Domite sighed. “I ask myself how the court can be so far removed from the reality of things, but then I recall I was no better in my youth.”

  “I spent every day beside my mother, and I had no idea.” Ioanna shook her head. “I still do not know if she kept it from me, or if the other nobles kept it from her.”

  “Those who are suffering most would not be allowed to petition your mother directly,” said Domite. “Camillus and Sabina, for example, do not hold the rank required to seek an audience with the empress. They would have been forced to entrust their cause to…it is Count Aulus, I think, who controls that region? That they opted to petition the empress mother instead tells me they had little faith in him.”

  “He would have refused to help them?” asked Ioanna. “Why?”

  “His priority would be his own lands, would it not? Resources are sparse. Even if they could pay in coin, he might come to regret it later. Gold is worthless when there’s nothing to spend it on. In any case, they weren’t offering gold. They were asking for a loan they had no real way of repaying.”

  “He could have gone to my mother on their behalf!”

  “In that case, I expect she would order him to aid them from his own storehouses. Don’t you agree?” Domite paused, but when Ioanna did not reply, they pressed on. “I’m sure you’ve heard her issue such edicts before.”

  Ioanna had, and at the time, she’d thought them reasonable. How could she have been so oblivious?

  They arrived at the center of the garden. The focal point was a life-size statue, depicting a person draped in simple robes. One hand held an empty bowl, carved from the same stone as the rest, and on the other perched a small songbird.

  “Who is this?” asked Ioanna, gesturing to the statue. “I don’t think I recognize the iconography.”

  “Isan, neutroi God of Charity. And unofficial patron of Pomeria.”

  “That’s an admirable domain. I’m surprised I’ve never heard of them.”

  “They are well known in Aquiim. In my youth, I traveled through Masim and Coplon—long before your father’s war, back when our people were welcomed. That was where I first heard their name. When I returned home, I brought a little statuette with me as well as some writings. At first, I kept my veneration private, not wanting to foist an unfamiliar god on our people, but when the war came…”

  “Do they have a temple here?”

  “No, but only for lack of priests. Maybe if you do manage to end the war, I’ll send for some from Aquiim to instruct us in the rituals.” Domite glanced down at Ioanna. “Some might criticize me for venerating them over Iolar, but Iolar has done nothing for us for a decade.”

  A small part of her was horrified by this casual sacrilege, but Ioanna only said, “Times are difficult. We do what we must. And Isan sounds like an honorable god.”

  “Even so, the harvests have not always been good,” Domite admitted. “I won’t deny I’ve been pulling more from our treasury each passing year. You’ll have soldiers from me, as many as I can spare. I’d go with them myself if only…”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t ask that of you!” Ioanna said hastily.

  “Nor would my knees, I’m afraid,” sighed Domite. “But don’t worry. You’ll hardly miss me. And if you lose, I expect I’ll get my chance to fight at least once. I don’t plan to let them arrest me.”

  “That was easier than I was expecting,” Ioanna commented as they got ready for bed that night. “My grandmother never mentioned the countet hated my father so openly.”

  “Maybe it was meant to be a surprise!” suggested Vitaliya.

  “My grandmother isn’t the surprising sort. Maybe she honestly didn’t know.” Ioanna could not blame Domite for keeping their dislike of Ionnes a secret from Irianthe—he was her son, after all. “In any case, they seem like a useful ally.”

  “Did you see how angry the paladins got when they asked you that question about the cat?” Vitaliya asked. “It was wonderful! I thought they were going to start a brawl.”

  “That is not wonderful,” sighed Ioanna. “I’ll have to talk to them. I know it’s offensive to them, but I can’t expect everyone to just take my word that I’m a Truthsayer. It’s
simply not reasonable. They’ll have to set aside their objections until after the coronation.”

  “I didn’t know you could see into the past like that. I mean, when you said it was a cat, and it was in their bed—that was amazing. I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “I can’t usually,” Ioanna admitted. “It only happens when the emotions around the lie are very strong. Then the truth comes to me even if it’s been hidden away. Domite still loves that cat, I think. That’s how I was able to tell.”

  “They seem nice. A bit frightening but in a kind way.”

  “Yes,” agreed Ioanna. “I think I like them.”

  They lay there in bed together, both staring up at the ceiling, fingers entwined.

  “I thought about my father’s funeral for the first time today,” Ioanna announced at last. “Am I horrible for not caring if I miss it?”

  “Don’t ask me. I’m biased against fathers right now,” said Vitaliya, and Ioanna bit back a laugh. “Honestly, though, why should you care? It doesn’t sound like he was a particularly good father to you. And then he went and got himself killed in a duel and left you to deal with his mess.”

  “Yes, but…he’s still my father.”

  Vitaliya made a rude noise, and Ioanna gave her a little kick under the blankets.

  “I know he never loved me,” said Ioanna. “He never claimed he did, and I know it was because he didn’t want me to feel the lie. And it wasn’t as though he was just bad with children because he loved Netheia.”

  “When you’re empress, you can appoint someone to be your new father,” said Vitaliya. “And he’ll always tell his friends how wonderful you are, commission portraits of you, and remember your birthday. Make it Knight-Commander Livius. He’s got the right look about him.”

  “I think if I were to do that, I’d pick Archpriest Lailus,” said Ioanna. “I’ve known him since I was old enough to speak.”

  “Who is that?”

  “The Archpriest of Iolar here in Xytae. I can’t say for certain, but I think he was nearer to being a proper father than Ionnes was.” Ioanna breathed in deeply. “I wonder what he’s doing now. I wonder if he thinks I’m dead.”

  “I doubt it,” said Vitaliya. “He’s probably so faithful he won’t even blink when you go riding up to the Imperial Palace with ten thousand soldiers behind you. Never a doubt in his mind. You know how priests are.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Ioanna whispered, and Vitaliya squeezed her hand.

  Chapter Twelve

  VITALIYA

  Pomeria was nice, and Vitaliya wouldn’t have minded staying longer. But with a promise secured from the countet, Ioanna was already prepared to move on. Far too soon, they were in the carriage and pulling away from the villa. Aelia, who was more restless than usual today, rode up with Vel, leaving the princesses alone in the carriage.

  “Maybe you can return, some day,” Ioanna suggested, when Vitaliya expressed regret over the brevity of their visit. “I’m sure the countet would welcome you.”

  “I hope I can,” Vitaliya sighed. “I hope we can. Together.”

  “I can hardly imagine life after this,” said Ioanna. “Isn’t that odd? Becoming empress and ending the war…I know I want to do it, but when I try to picture it in my mind, it comes out blank like a canvas with no paint yet.”

  “No, I feel the same way. I just hope you’re not too busy being empress to escape now and then.”

  “I might be, at first. There’s a lot to do.”

  “And there will be suitors too, I expect.” Vitaliya thought, once again, of the Masimi prince she’d invented for Ioanna. She’d almost forgotten he wasn’t a real person. “Piles of them. You’ll need me to help you eat all the chocolates.”

  “What!” Ioanna burst out laughing. “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t think an unmarried empress won’t have thousands of suitors? You’ll have to put them up in the stables once you run out of guest rooms.”

  “I’ll send them all home, then,” said Ioanna.

  “You can’t do that. They’re all very important princes. They’ll be offended.”

  “More offended than if I make them sleep in the stables?”

  “Princes love stables,” Vitaliya said in the most authoritative voice she could manage.

  Ioanna laughed again. “I can’t imagine I’ll have any time for suitors. I will have quite enough to do already.”

  “I’ll handle them for you. When they come in, I’ll rank them on wealth, power, and attractiveness. They’ll have to score above a certain number to move on. Then I’ll judge the gifts they’ve brought.”

  “That is not especially romantic.”

  “You’re empress now. You don’t have time for romance. We must be objective about these things. In any case, this can’t be news to you. Even as crown princess, I’m sure there were plenty of—”

  “Some, but I turned them away the first time they told me a lie. It made for short courtships. And my parents didn’t want me marrying a foreigner, so I never had any princes.”

  “I’m surprised they didn’t just pick someone for you.”

  “I never considered it before, but I suppose I am as well,” Ioanna admitted. “Perhaps they thought it would be a waste of time. Seeing as they clearly never intended for me to become empress.”

  “Well, good. Now we get to decide without their interference. I’m sure they’d have chosen someone dreadful anyway. I’ll do a much better job.”

  A little smile curled at the side of Ioanna’s mouth. “Might I make an observation?”

  “No, how dare you.”

  “You seem worried.”

  “I’m worried we’re riding to our deaths, yes,” said Vitaliya. Her face warmed. “I thought that was something we had in common.”

  “I don’t think you want me to have any suitors,” said Ioanna.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want! They don’t need my permission to turn up on your doorstep.”

  “I think you’re jealous.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? They’ll all be so busy courting you that they’ll stop coming to see me, and I’ll have to buy my own flowers from now on. I hate paying for things.”

  “You’re twisting,” said Ioanna. “You think I can’t tell? Never lying, but never saying what you mean either. Netheia was good at it too.”

  “Don’t compare me to her!”

  “I’ll tell them I’m courting you, and they’ll leave me alone. Would you like that?”

  Vitaliya lapsed into dumbstruck silence.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Ioanna.

  “That’s…you shouldn’t do that. You’re too important—an empress should be with someone powerful and wise and, and besides, they’ll all be so much better than me! Once you meet them, you’ll forget why you ever liked me to start.”

  “Where were they when I was alone?” asked Ioanna. “Where were they when I had nothing but a muddy wagon and few paladins? Where were they when Netheia came to arrest me?”

  “I’m only here by coincidence—”

  “You’ve had plenty of chances to leave. You don’t know what it means to me that you’ve chosen to stay.”

  “Don’t say that,” whispered Vitaliya. “You’ll start making me feel like I might be special.”

  “If you don’t already, then I’ve been communicating very poorly with you.” Ioanna leaned forward. “What would you do if I said I didn’t want to be empress? That I was going to run away and forget Xytae. Would you go with me?”

  “Of—of course,” said Vitaliya.

  “How many of those princes would say the same?”

  “I don’t—”

  “None of them, I’d think. They’ll be coming to court the empress. Without my title, what am I to them?”

  “Xytae will need alliances,” said Vitaliya desperately. “You can’t just, just…”

  “An empress can do whatever she likes. Isn’t that what you told me?”

  “You won
’t, though,” said Vitaliya. “You’ll do the right thing. No matter how much you hate it. You’ll do what’s best for Xytae.”

  “Don’t be so certain,” said Ioanna. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

  The next town they arrived in was called Enona, but this time their reception was different. As they moved through town, people stopped to watch the wagon go past—which wasn’t unusual by itself. But the murmurs and awed faces that followed certainly were. Perhaps Enona was a particularly boring sort of place?

  When they reached the baron’s home, Vitaliya watched as Ioanna selected yet another sealed letter from her pile. But she never had the chance to hand it over to the guards because the carriage was waved ahead without question.

  “Either these guards aren’t being paid enough, or we’ve been expected,” commented Vitaliya. “Ioanna, you didn’t send word ahead, did you?”

  “No,” Ioanna shook her head, confused. “Perhaps Grandmother did?”

  “I don’t think so,” commented Aelia, who was currently in the carriage alongside them, and had been for the last hour or so. “I’m surprised, honestly—I knew this would happen, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

  “What would happen?” asked Vitaliya. She had not had a real conversation with Aelia since their argument in the garden. Aelia did not seem to be at all angry with her, though, and it was difficult to keep up her annoyance with someone who was so cheerful.

  “Rumors are spreading about Ioanna. Well, less rumor and more fact, at this point. People are excited.”

  “Is that good or bad?” worried Ioanna.

  “I suppose it could go either way,” mused Aelia. “But right now, I’d say it’s a good thing.”

  Outside the baron’s villa, they were met by not only more guards, but an assortment of eager servants and even the baron himself.

  “Call me wildly optimistic, but I don’t think he’s going to be difficult to convince,” muttered Vitaliya.