AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But perhaps he could bring himself to help a friend?
Her heart felt as if it might explode. If she did this, her whole life would change. She’d be giving away all hope of genuine love, all hope of genuine happiness! All to save her polity.
The face of poor Jaspar swept through her mind. It wasn’t like they were a couple. It wasn’t like they’d even started courting. But the way he looked at her. The way he smiled. There was something there—something better and kinder than any of the awful boys before him. If she was destined to wed some patrician, she was certain she could make something beautiful with him.
A gust of wind swirled rose petals out into the night. As they fell, the faces came back to her, each one a drop of suffering.
And she knew.
How can I do this?
How can I not?
“Xiber Feron has crossed for Vaticily,” she said, so quiet she wondered whether she’d even spoken.
Calix’s expression made it clear that she had. And that he understood the terms of what she was offering. “You... would do this? Knowing all that you know?”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “For my people? For my family? There is nothing I wouldn’t give.” Their fingers entwined. He was shaking just as hard as she was. “Don’t you agree, Your Highness?”
A look of sorrow and thanks swept his beautiful face. “Yes, Teigra. I agree entirely.”
“Well, then. Are they watching?”
“Every person here.”
“Then kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me as if the story was real.”
He removed his helmet, taking her smallness into his arms and pressing his lips against hers. He kissed her as though she was someone he wished to never let go of. As if his lips could revive long-lost memories.
And she felt nothing.
When Calix withdrew, the cheer which greeted them was deafening—men pumping their arms and young women crying with joy. Teigra squeezed the prince’s hand and forced the warmest smile she could manage.
He took the cue, drawing her closer and raising his helmet victoriously, just like a commanding warrior from a story, returning to his people in glory.
Just like a shadow stepping back into the light.
Mesti... thought Teigra, as the cheers rose and rose, causing a strange surge of self-satisfaction within her. Is this how Aurelius feels all the time?
62
AURELIUS
Aurelius awoke to guttural snoring. The old hay of the mattress scratched half of his naked body. The other half was cocooned in a humid cave of fur-covered stock and the stink of unwashed man.
The tiny room was unfamiliar, and it took a few moments for the events of the last night to creep back—sticky and red, sweaty and rank.
He’d ventured to the southern outskirts, to where the polity-proper rolled into the dozens of mid and low polities beyond. A place of rowdy pubs and rowdy men. A place that housed Palaestra Ampelos, wrestling school for the farmers. A place full of men who were thick in every possible way.
There were closer piss joints and closer rooms, but those were near Kastro Machiton. And last night, that was the opposite of where he needed to be. Because last night, he’d heard the hideous news on the street, practically bellowed from every red-cloaked shithead.
Calix and Teigra had kissed at the Rose Rain Ball. And rather than spontaneously vomiting, the idiots of this city were cheering! Cheering!
Aurelius dragged himself from beneath the barely familiar, booze-laced lump on the bed. He dressed quickly—his head pounding—and staggered into the sun-streaked streets. It was already hot as balls, with a heaviness to the air that threatened a storm later in the day.
He patted the square of parchment beneath the folds of fabric. It had been almost a week since he’d received it, and he still hadn’t responded.
But she could wait.
