Page 62 of Drawn into Oblivion

“The court shall not hold any councils tonight.” Her eyelids drooped.

“Of course, that’s a given.”

“Arrange something for tomorrow evening instead,” she added, gasping out the last as her face flushed with effort.

“My love, you won’t be able to do anything tomorrow,” he argued.

“You’ll see,” she said with her eyes closed, and smiling weakly. “We’ll use the…Red Room. Make sure…they’re all there.” Her head listed to one side as sleep overtook her once more.

“It shall be as you say, Empress,” Vallen said softly before kissing her hand.

“What in Oblivion is happening here?” Rosuke whispered from the foot of the bed.

“I don’t know, my friend. I don’t seem to know anything lately.”

Chapter Eighteen

Mai woke with a groan. She had forgotten to fetch coals for the brazier, so the room was cold and her shoulders ached after a night of clenching in her sleep. Worse, her head pounded from all the tears she had shed. Worst of all was the roiling pain in her gut. She hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, but her magic was still swollen, and the thought of even a sip of water for her parched throat sounded like enough to make her explode.

She groaned again as she uncurled from around the pillow she’d spent most of the night clutching, and hissed in pain when she rolled onto her back, almost every muscle twinging in protest.

Lying flat didn’t make her stomach feel much better, but it let her stare at the wood ceiling panels, where morning shadows played. She thought of nothing as she studied the plain, flat surface. Birds chirped in the tree outside her window, sharp and clear. She spotted a small, flitting shadow among those of the tree’s softly swaying branches. Oh, how she wished she could lie there, undisturbed, and watch the day go by.

Unfortunately, soft footsteps approached. She recognized them and did a mental countdown until the knock on her door. When it came, she closed her eyes and silently pleaded for another hour’s respite.

“Elder Mai? Are you awake?” Kyoko whispered through the door. “I brought you some breakfast. Would you like me to bring it in?” Mai considered it, but she also didn’t want anyone to see her at the moment. “Elder Mai, did you spill perfume in there? Not that it’s not a nice scent, but—”

Mai opened her eyes and slowly inhaled but smelled nothing. What was she talking about?

“A-anyway, please take your time this morning,” Kyoko continued. “Everyone—we all heard you crying last night.” Surprisingly, Mai found she didn’t care that they’d heard. “I’ll take care of today’s duties, but you’ll be needed in the evening. The empress has called a council. All house elders and top officers are to convene in the Red Room before dinner.”

Mai clenched the bedclothes, chest aching. She would have to see Rosuke again in just a few hours—and in the Red Room, no less. Fate never seemed crueler.

“Did you hear me, Elder? Just let me know if you did, and I’ll leave. The high general himself instructed me to give you this message, and…” Mai winced, thinking of how she had left the empress’s room last night. Vallen had been trying so hard to calm her. “He added that you had to come. The meeting is very important.”

“Thank you, Kyoko,” she called, voice rough for more reasons than just a parched throat.

“Please rest until then. I’ll leave your breakfast out here.” Kyoko set down the tray with a gentle tap. Her footsteps were light but rapid as she retreated down the hall.

Mai turned her watery eyes back to the ceiling, where the shadow of two small birds outside her window stuck fast to the shadow of a branch. They chirped at each other as they enjoyed the morning sun.

Truthfully, what hurt most wasn’t her head, her muscles, or even her cramping stomach. What hurt most was that Rosuke hadn’t appeared last night. The high general had surely told him what she had discovered, yet he hadn’t come to her straightaway. She had hoped he would. She had waited for him to pound on her door and beg to explain himself.

She scoffed at that thought as a tear crawled down her cheek. Even if Rosuke had come, she wouldn’t have listened to him. Maybe he had done the right thing by staying away.

⁂

As Mai plodded around the corner of the dimly lit corridor, she could clearly hear worried voices in the Red Room down the hall. The echoes of conversations grew louder the closer she came to the double doors. She imagined everyone’s anxious mood—faces tight with fear, hands fidgeting as they awaited the news the empress would bring.

She could well understand their uncertainty. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours for her to find solace anymore—in anything or anyone.

Her dark grey dress, the oldest and least flattering garment she had, had been her choice for tonight’s council. As for her other accessories, she’d left them all in their boxes, hoping to draw as little attention to herself as possible. Washing her face had helped clear her head, but she had braced herself for the worst when sitting before her mirror, having despaired of looking any less miserable than she felt. The shock of seeing her reflection for the first time that day had nearly toppled her off the stool.

She had expected to see splotchy skin, puffy eyes, and lips chapped from the cold, dry air in her room. Yet her skin was smooth and lustrous. Her eyes were clear and bright. Her lips were soft and blushing with color.

However, despite looking like someone who hadn’t spent the previous night crying, she still didn’t want to enter the Red Room. Every eye would turn to her, expecting the empress, and attention was the opposite of what she wanted right then, especially from one person in particular.

Even so, a part of her screamed to see him. To fling open the doors and run into his arms, even after what she’d discovered. She wanted him to hold her, to whisper all the things that would soothe her bruised heart, and to assure her of his love, declaring it proudly in front of everyone. She was irreversibly entangled in his web and though it was pathetic, she still wanted to love him, which made the pain that much worse.