The Forgotten (The Lost Words: Volume 3) (17 page)

“I wanted to be on my own.”

She did not argue. She never argued. She told him how things ought to be, and she expected him to accept them, at his own pace.

Strange how a woman’s mind worked, he thought. When he had almost strangled her to death, she should have hated him, or run away; instead she stayed, determined and loyal. Then, she would lecture him on where he ought to bathe or how he should dress with all the calm fury of a cavalry legion putting down a peasant revolt. She deferred to him in public, but she reproached him and offered sound political advice in almost the same sentence when they were alone.

He still had not quite figured out what she truly wanted. What motivated her?

And he still wasn’t sure if they loved each other. He wanted to believe in love, but his short stay at Pain Daye had taught him a lot about dishonesty, about illusions. Emperors could not indulge in romance and silly hopes. At best, it was cold, brutal business, and if you were lucky, you might end up with a friend, someone who respected you and didn’t hide the truth from you.

James wondered what his wife truly felt. They had intimacy; they had passion. She followed him; she believed in him. She
was
a good friend. All he missed was why. Or maybe that was enough. Maybe that was what women needed. Perhaps they could cling to simple things and make them meaningful. It did not have to be about kingdoms and tens of thousands of lives. It could be something innocent yet wicked, like compassion.

He tried to clear his head. He was not going to conquer the female psyche. But he could use it to help win Athesia back. So, he listened to what Rheanna had to say. He was honored to have a real friend in her.

She realized he had ended his little emotional struggle. She smiled warmly, breaking his heart. There was nothing but pure devotion in her eyes.

“Husband, you’re such a pigheaded little emperor sometimes.”

James grinned, but said nothing. What could he say that would not sound like idiocy?

“Have you decided what you want to do?” she asked, shattering his bliss.

“Not really,” he admitted. The task of convincing everyone they should strike for northern Athesia was more difficult than
he had anticipated. Men would agree with him in the meetings, but then, the day after, they would have all forgotten about the passion that had inspired them right then, and he would have to work his charm and authority on them all over again.

His legion commanders still bickered about where he ought to move next. The Caytorean councillors were all in favor of him leaving their land. The Athesians wanted revenge. His soldier ranks, composed of private armies and mercenaries, followed him because he was rich and charismatic, but he could only guess the real depth of their loyalty. He could barely imagine the ferocity of diplomacy and scheming that his wife had to deal with, fighting the silent war of power in his name.

“There’s a great deal of grumbling among the councillors,” Rheanna said. She helped herself to a glass of watered wine from a large table that fronted the huge wall mirror facing their equally enormous bed. The servants made sure James had ample drinks and fruit and sweets at all times.

She sauntered away from him, back into the colossal anteroom. James burrowed into his wardrobe, searching for a suitable jacket to match his blue silk. He was slowly getting the hang of colors and styles.

He joined her in the foyer. The room was splendid in the best Caytorean fashion: a writing table of some rich black wood in one corner, a drinking table in the center of it surrounded by five leather sofas, a large hearth that hadn’t been used in months, but you couldn’t miss the intricate motifs carved in the stone, or the pair of large vases growing some ornamental plant, or the gigantic windows that let in ample daylight so you hardly ever needed a lamp until the late evening hours.

Even now, James was slightly daunted by this opulence. A year ago, he could not have imagined his home would be a palace, that his sleeping chamber would be adjoined by half a
dozen others, each serving its own function. The funny part was, this was not an imperial palace. It was only the wealthy estate of a councillor, and his accommodation was not much different from what hundreds of other councillors enjoyed. The only thing he had changed was to remove the large family portrait of its previous owner. He did not fancy Otis staring at him accusingly every time he walked into the room.

Rheanna had sat down in one of the leather sofas and crossed her legs. James sat opposite her, feeling somewhat awkward.

“You must leave Pain Daye soon,” she stated.

He patted the thick armrests. “Will you be coming with me?”
Empress Rheanna
, he thought.

She shook her head. “I cannot, dear. I must remain here and make sure the trade continues. I have been away too long from Eybalen as it is.”

There was that, too, he realized. Rheanna had been away from her city for more than a year now. Sooner or later, she would have to go back there. But she belonged at his side, in Roalas, even farther away than this place. What did that mean for their future? Would they live apart, husband and wife on paper only? He did not like that prospect.

“So what am I going to do?”

“You will secure northern Athesia. That will buy ample credit with the High Council. It will also convince them you’re eying the prize to the west and not east.”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. “They don’t think I would choose to conquer Eybalen?”

“Why not? Besides, it would not be as if you were conquering. Coming to stay. Permanently. You’re now married to Caytor, through me.”

And you are to Athesia, through me
. He bit his knuckle, thinking. “All right, northern Athesia. What then? Politically?”

Rheanna reached forward and put the glass on the table. He stole a quick glance of her breasts. “Once you secure your foothold in Athesia, I will be able to convince everyone to pour more money and support in your favor. You should leave someone loyal to govern Pain Daye, perhaps Sebastian. He has his own business in the capital, but I will go back and govern it for him—as well as make sure our own enterprise continues running well.”

James nodded, trying to see the same vision she did. “And Rob?”

She blinked meaningfully. “You will need a sidekick. Make sure he does not exert too much bad influence on you. It’s one thing being a wealthy Caytorean and behaving like a pig. It’s another being a young emperor trying to gain everyone’s trust. You cannot afford to do the same things he does.”

James liked being humbled sometimes. But this was almost too much. He felt like a child.

“And when will I see you again?”

“I will not be gone for long. But I must show my face in the offices now and then, or my adjutants and secretaries will take my absence for granted and start falsifying the finance reports more than usual. Soon, they will each have their own villa, and I’ll be left wondering how come the bank is bankrupt.”

The emperor scratched his head. “I think I understand.”

Rheanna smiled softly. “I am sure you do. Being a leader of a nation is not much different than leading a successful guild or a merchant house. At first, you must do all the hard work yourself, but once you become a trusted leader, you can delegate. Athesia is your final test. Once you conquer Ecol and Bassac, you will have removed all doubts from your followers’ hearts, Athesians and Caytoreans alike. You will become everyone’s favorite. And then, you can step back and be the emperor you are.”

It sounded quite simple. But one thing nagged at him. “My father won all his battles.”

She arched a disapproving brow. “Did he? Emperor Adam fought for a few months, then spent two decades wielding diplomacy. He made a point of slaughtering the Feorans and Parusites, but then let fear and reputation do their job. When he took Roalas, he left the city as it was. Darling, you cannot be an emperor and fight every little battle. That’s why you have soldiers.”

There it was, he realized. He had won half the Caytorean society to his side, and now he must step back and let things sort themselves out. After being a man of the law, he found the idea disturbing. After having defeated the Oth Danesh, he felt almost nervous about relinquishing the power to his subordinates. He did not quite trust them, Xavier least of all. How could he let that man out of his sight?

But deep down, he knew he must. His wife was trying to help him understand the one reasonable course of action. He could not dedicate himself to counting troops. He must think on a broader scale.

For as long as he lived, uncertainty and the fear of betrayal would be his companions. That was the toll of leading a nation, it seemed.

It was no longer about the survival of a lone, frightened boy in a foreign realm. It was no longer about winning the hearts of young, impressionable men, or leading a regiment into the fray like some hero from the books. His work revolved around much bigger affairs, and he really ought to pay more attention to business meetings and deals. He had to focus on the never-ending list of guests that came to Pain Daye. For now, Rheanna was taking care of it all, but she expected him to learn someday.

“What do emperors do?” he wondered aloud. The transformation of his soul felt like the birth of a butterfly, a beautiful, fragile thing emerging from a cocoon of slime.

“What did your father do once he became one?” she retorted.

I’ll have to talk to Rob
, he thought. “He…”

“He made peace. He set Eracia against us, and us against them. He made sure our greed was satisfied, and we found ourselves like dogs, waiting for the next delicious scrap. Your father was a ruthless man, but he was also extremely wise.”

James reached over and touched her knee playfully. “Did he have a woman secretly fighting his wars?” he teased.

“He did,” she said without blinking. “Men tend to be suicidal without our help.”

“So you will come back to me once you conclude your trip in Eybalen?” he asked.

“I will. As much as councillors and investors don’t really do any real work, they still must occasionally stir so that people know they’re alive. It’s early summer now. You ought to leave soon so you avoid bad weather before you complete your campaign. I will probably take until the end of the year before heading back. We shall meet before the Spring Festival. Keep your hands to yourself.”

James wanted to laugh, but her face was serious. “I’ll make sure you have a strong escort and bodyguards at all times.”

She chortled once, musically. “If you feel compelled, brave soldier. I can take care of myself, darling. You’re the one who needs bodyguards around.”

He leaned back, already starting to feel somewhat melancholy. “What will you do in Eybalen? Besides making sure the clerks don’t tamper with the records, that is.”

Rheanna picked up the glass again. “Meet with my father. He will be cross with me for not inviting him to our wedding, I’m sure. But he will forgive me.”

“What about your mother?” he asked.
What about mine? She’ll be cross, too
.

Her mien flickered. “She is…not well. In her head. She lives in this institution. Father put her there several years ago.”

He felt uncomfortable for a moment. And then, he recalled he knew very little of his wife. In all the time she had pursued his attention before their wedding, he had suspected a hidden plot, so he had hardly paid any heed to her as another person, mostly as a potential enemy, and you cared about your enemies’ motives and strengths and weaknesses; you did not ask after their parents. Since, they had both been too busy making him into a leader to focus on the simple matters. He never talked about his mother, not wanting to draw focus to his Eracian heritage, or her whereabouts, so he never asked about hers either.

“What does your father do?” he blurted.

“He’s a banker,” she stated simply. “What else could he be?”

Why are you with me?
he wanted to ask, doubt creeping into his soul, souring his mood, but he knew he must not say anything. That was a wrong question to ask a woman after she had pledged herself to you. And she would not forgive him.

There was a knock on the door, a quick rap.

James was annoyed. He did not want this conversation to end. But Rheanna was watching him carefully, expecting him to be who she expected him to be.

He sighed. “Enter.”

The large door, painted soft blue, cracked open. Timothy poked his head in. “I’m sorry, sir. But Warlord Xavier asked for your presence in the war room. Wants to discuss something,
didn’t tell me what, sir. And Master Angus wanted me to remind you that your imperial status does not permit you to shirk the lessons, sir. Sorry about that.”

“Fine, wait for me outside,” he told the squire. The door closed.

“Don’t be angry with the boy,” Rheanna reprimanded him.

“I am not!” he almost shouted.

“You project as if you are. He’s just a boy, but he’s loyal. Truly loyal. You would be wise to keep him at your side and help him grow.”

James felt like a child being berated by his mother. “All right.”

“You might want to promote him. In some way.”

He stood up, approached his wife, and kissed her head. “I will see you later.” She rose, too, ready to go about her own business. Pain Daye was bursting with people who thought they could squeeze something out of this Athesian emperor.

“You’ve selected your clothes well today. I’m proud of you,” she told him.

That brought his spirits up. Well, at least he was doing something right. He squeezed her buttcheek, she yelped playfully, and he went out. A horde of women waited to enter the chambers and polish and dust them into submission. They did it several times a day; it was almost depressing. James did not want to know their names, did not want to get used to the notion of having people dress him, comb him, shave him, towel him, and pamper him. As long as he maintained that distance, he could pretend he was a rugged, tough man like his father had been. He could not imagine Emperor Adam letting someone wash his hair.

Two guards at each side of the double doors snapped to efficient attention. They were fully armored despite the heat. It
felt like a pretense, even more so since officially becoming the ruler of Athesia, but he knew he must suffer the rituals. It was no longer about his own skin anymore; it was about the future of a realm. Once, the various factions had wanted to assassinate him because he jeopardized their business prospect. Now, they would want to kill for something far more basic. Their own survival.