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19
AURELIUS
Teigra was furious with him.
Oh, she hadn’t said anything. That wasn’t her style. But she positively glowered, hotter than the midday sun that the curtains were utterly failing to keep out of the carriage, itself clanking down the smooth ribbon of land between Ondocis and Ardora.
They had only been traveling for an hour today, the third day of their journey, which was far later than they’d intended to leave.
That was entirely his fault. Even he couldn’t charm his way out of that little fact.
“Darling, can we please extinguish the glare,” he muttered, feeling that his head might explode with each smack of the iron-clad wheels.
Her face morphed into a look of motherly disappointment. “Aurie, you were the one who said we should depart the embassy early.”
“And I meant it! But I couldn’t sleep with the sounds of the waves and the noises from the port. So, I thought a walk might help me drift off.”
“Just a walk?”
“All right, yes, and maybe a quick drink somewhere. But just the one!”
“And how many did that turn into?”
“More than one?” he said, with a cheeky grin.
His charm bounced off her like a straw spear. “Five hours Jaspar and I had to wait for you this morning. Five hours of not knowing where you’d gone or if you were even alive! With a good run, we could have made Ardora proper by nightfall! Now we’ll have to spend another night on the road.”
“I know, I know,” he said, raising his hands in supplication. She’d been in a bad mood ever since they’d left Mestibes, and his tardiness had not assisted that. “Please, just allow me to die in peace.”
After a few moments of silent stewing, Teigra yanked his curtain open, exposing his face to the full force of the heat. “Was it worth it?”
It took all his remaining energy to stay impassive. Gods yes, it was worth it!
Aurelius had dreamed of seeing Ondocis since he was a boy—the city of gold and opulence. Of fine jewelry and beautiful fabrics, in dyes so vivid he almost fell to his knees and wept. Of strange spices and intoxicating perfumes from the Sharan Empire to the west. Of black magic boxes and crocodile-skinned codices from the mysterious Pharaohnate of Ptelik, across the northern Macrinos Sea. Of noble bitches and snooty bastards, flouncing around with pithy insults. Of the best food and the greatest wine that any mortal could taste.
And above all, of gossip, drama, and court intrigue at every turn! Every hall had been filled with a dark deal, a secret scandal, a whispered whim.
And for one magical night, he had shopped and bitched and schemed and drunk and fucked with the most fashionable young things in all of Dynosia. His only regret was knowing that he would have to spend the foreseeable future somewhere, anywhere else than that beautiful city.
Aurelius promised himself that once he was done with the backwards polity of Ardora, he would have to trick his way into a long, long stay in the Kingdom of Isles.
Midafternoon, they finally left the narrow isthmus of Ondocis and crossed into Greater Ardora. He didn’t need Jaspar to tell him that, or to see any kind of marker on the road. He could feel it with every punch into his spine.
If Ondocis’s byways were paved with the riches of a thousand fully laden ships, then Ardora’s paths were rutted with the meager returns of a thousand fly-swarmed ox carts. The road was agony—even Tiggy groaned as they banged their way along, holding their hands against either wall to brace themselves.
“Remind me again why we couldn’t have just sailed?” he shouted over the clatter.
“The same reason we have centaurs deliver all of our diplomatic letters, rather than taking them by Ondocian ships!” said Teigra, her voice vibrating.
“Let me guess. Diplomatic protocol?”
“How did you know?”
Aurelius sneered, his mind filled with the process-obsessed old fools in the senate. “Just a hunch.”
When Aurelius could take no more of the bone-shattering ride, he banged against the wood by Tiggy’s head, which drew a muted “whoa” from the other side of the partition. Once stopped, Aurelius staggered outside, almost tripping.
“Are you all right, Your Excellency?” said Jaspar, his fur an even bigger, curlier mess than it had been when they’d set off.
