Arc 3: The Case of the Commandery Princess and the Prime Minister’s Narrow Escape
Chapter 10
Five years was a lifetime that passed by in a wave of burning ambition. For the Basileus, his young Basilinna, and Gesi Ajai, who worked at collecting money using the acquired Sura Clan workshops like a sandstorm devouring the landscape. His daughter, Naeri, now a Commandery Princess, turned into a desperate wife in the Maenaer residence that belonged to her husband. Faced with a cold husband and a nagging father who demanded rights and power, she reached for dirty old wives’ ways that almost broke her unwilling husband. Sending Raithion into a deep rebellion of wives and the so-called “warmth of a home.”
It was a month before spring. Raithion stood on a high walkway watching legion officers train in the early morning at the barracks in Ninid State on the northwest border of the Lyria Kingdom.
Haedor helped one of the training soldiers adjust his stance and his grip on a long spear as he made his practice movements. Raithion took in a deep breath, appreciating the loud calls the men gave as they trained.
Kailu stepped up on the walkway from the main general’s office.
“Commander, the border is finally peaceful. The information we have received from our spies in the Lavos Nation is that they are busy managing floods in the west of their kingdom. They will be too preoccupied to think about our border for the next while.”
“That is good news for us,” Raithion said. “It also means I can return to the capital without worry.”
“Not that you’ve been in a hurry,” Kailu noted with a sly smile. “You’ve lingered here longer than in the other states. I suspect it is because it is as far as you can get from the capital. Will you ever forgive your wife?”
Raithion could not help the recoil of anger that filled him at the mention of Naeri.
“No.” Raithion shook his head, bile rising. There were crimes committed against a person’s conscience that could not be forgiven, no matter the amount of time that passed. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s prepare to depart. It’s been a year and a half of travel. I’m eager to discover how the commandery office is doing.”
“Commander,” Kailu started, then stopped. “Never mind, you’re right. I’ll get the Draeya legion officers to start getting ready for the trip home.”
“Kailu,” Raithion said, glancing at his best friend.
“Yes, Raith,” Kailu said.
“It’s-it’s easier for me not to think about what she’s done,” Raithion said. “Somehow it gives me back control not having to dwell on it.”
“But for how long?” Kailu asked.
Raithion held his best friend’s gaze for a long moment, then shrugged. “As long as I need not to think about it.”
“As long as it helps you sleep at night,” Kailu said. “I’ll pack the cotton you collected. Your mom has great weavers. They can make use of the raw cotton and make you a warm blanket to hide your head under.”
Raithion chuckled. “I’ll leave the planning to you.”
Kailu headed down the steps going to the warehouse where he would sort out supplies for their trip back to Genad City. Raithion watched his best friend leave for a few minutes, then glanced at the ring on his left ring finger. It was a Maenaer ring that also symbolized his marriage to Naeri. It sat calmly on his left ring finger and the urge to fling it across the practice yard was great. The rage that burned with a bright fire lingered in his gut. He reached for the blades he always wore in the scabbards at his waist and touched the intricate handles.
“What are you up to now, Azula?” Raithion wondered.
****
In the capital, the scent of mint toffee filled the afternoon air in the Maenaer compound. The sun was high, the peach trees were showing signs of blooming, though the weather had not let up yet. The courtyard was filled with activity, the groundskeepers trimmed decorative bushes, and the roses that Silveren had grown for the last five years.
A young lady swept the path leading to Raithion’s residence. At the entrance, two children sat on a clean mat playing with toys. A maid watched over them with careful dedication.
Beyond the open doors of Raithion’s residence was a great hall arranged for comfort and gathering. In the evening, Lady Naeri Maenaer and her children would always be found sitting on the comfortable couches, playing games, sometimes Naeri would read stories to the eldest son. Other times, she would hum songs to the children. A large armchair was placed in the living room at the most honorable and prominent spot, but it was rarely used by its owner.
Naeri often sighed when looking at the large empty armchair.
It was the end of the month, a day before the weekend. Usually, Raithion returned to the residence on Fridays when he was working in the capital city. He came to deal with pressing issues in the household during the weekend. However, his shadow had not crossed the gate for a year and a half. Naeri’s sighs had not stopped since he left, and they were likely never to stop until Raithion arrived. Everyone in the manor knew the reasons why but tried not to mention the reasons why.
***
On Sura Island, in a cave Azula regarded as his second home, a grinding, metallic, noise filled the cavernous space, followed by a curse and the sound of falling tools.
“Godfather dropped the gears.” A young boy’s voice reached Azula. “Here.”
“Thank you, Ruri,” Azula said, taking the small gears from cute little fingers. He shifted on the platform he lay on to look at his little nephew.
Ruri’s name was given to him by Lasma. She wrote it as “Ruairidh,” but she was the only one who did; the rest of the clan wrote it as Ruri. Ruri was a cute little copy of his father, Yemin, with a dash of Alise. The kid had the same pointed chin as Alise, but his expressive wide eyes were similar to Yemin, or so Alise and Lasma said. Ruri was a beautiful boy. He was four years and some months old. His baby strawberry hair was held in a ponytail with tight braids made by his mother. He wore a bright green tunic with gold embroidery on the collar and a dark pair of trousers, his small feet in small, cute black boots made by Senin. Azula smiled as he stared at the curious little boy. Ruri followed Azula everywhere, which usually got them in trouble often.
Azula grinned because Ruri’s face was currently covered with smudges of the dark grease they usually obtained from Nerasa. He reached out to make a perfect dot on Ruri’s forehead with his index finger.
“I can see you’re going to be a gear expert like your godfather in the future,” Azula said.
“Gear expert,” Ruri clapped when Azula took the gears from him.
“That’s right,” Azula said, then adjusted the gears he held and concentrated on making them fit into their designated spots. He fit the gears in and nodded when they settled in perfectly.
“Ruri, my little ancestor, go sit on the long stick on the carriage for godfather,” Azula said, pointing to a long handle near where Ruri was standing. The carriage base was not complete, so Ruri climbed on the carriage floor with ease, his short legs pumping hard to climb up. Ruri then skipped to the handle, and, with some maneuvering, he sat on the long handle and held on to the sides of the handle with a pleased grin.
“Now what, Godfather?” Ruri asked.
“Now,” Azula watched the lever come down slowly with Ruri’s weight.
The gears he had worked on for days started moving, each one doing its share of work to keep the cogs moving. Azula grinned as the gears picked up speed. Azula slid out from where he was lying and wiped a hand over his face to get rid of sweat. He noticed he still had dark grease on his hands too late.
Ruri giggled as he looked up at him.
“Godfather has dirt on his face too,” Ruri said between childish giggles.
Azula stepped away from the rough prototype he had created. It wasn’t complete, but at least his idea was coming together. His thoughts had been on the efficiency of transporting the ore to the clan’s workshops in the village center for a while. The men who oversaw the ore transportation were getting on in age, and carrying large bundles of ore out to cargo carriages was backbreaking work and time-consuming.
Azula wanted to create a cart that could carry a sizeable bundle and then move it with a simple lever. The lever Ruri was sitting on only needed to be shifted, and the cart would move down the rails Azula had been having the men lay down from the mine exit to the village center.
Ruri clapped with excitement as the gears kept moving, and he lost his balance, almost falling off the lever.
Azula lifted the boy off the lever and turned off the mechanism.
“Ruri, we did it,” Azula said, lifting Ruri up and placing him on his shoulders.
“We did it!” Ruri echoed, his hands clinging to the thick black hair clip that held Azula’s long strawberry hair. Hair that held no braid to this day. He was still considered a mourning chief in the clan.
Azula ran around the open space of the workshop, making Ruri clap with glee.
“What are we celebrating? Ruri is so happy,” Lasma said, as she entered the workshop.
“Godfather made gears move,” Ruri said, clapping with joy. “He made me sit on the lever, and it was like magic. They went up and down, click, click, click.”
“Like magic,” Lasma grinned. “Your godfather knows how to give you a great time. Goodness, your faces are full of dark grease. You both need a bath.”
“We need a bath!” Ruri said.
“Only knows how to repeat things,” Lasma chuckled. “Come, we need to head back home now. Azula, I came to find you because the council has requested a meeting this evening.”
“Why?” Azula asked with a groan. “All they do is talk and impose regulations on me. I’m exhausted and would rather be laying tracks on a cliff on the mountain. Have Juya stand in for me.”
Lasma bit back a chuckle at Azula’s unwillingness for politics.
“Will you have Juya attend all your council meetings then?” Lasma asked.
“He’s great at explaining what those people want after they ramble on for hours,” Azula said as they left his workshop. The path outside was well-paved and led from the relative quiet of the foot of the mountain to the back gardens of the Doriel family home.
“Mom, how long do you think it will take Alise to notice that Juya is in love with her?” Azula asked.
Lasma clasped her hands behind her back as they walked.
“I don’t know,” Lasma said, looking up at Ruri, who was enjoying his ride on Azula’s shoulders. “Perhaps, you should be asked the same question, Azu. When will you notice the golden-haired general, Trevan of Nerasa, is in love with you. Everyone has noticed that he is the only reason you’ve managed to keep our island from an annexation battle with Nerasa Kingdom. He is protecting Sura Island.”
“He is protecting us politically,” Azula said. “But that’s not the reason we are still free of the Nerasa Kingdom’s pressure. We technically still belong to the Lyria Kingdom. Trevan is wary of the Lyria Kingdom’s legions. He knows a war between them would devastate trade and this island. So, Nerasa is hesitating. It is to our advantage that they keep hesitating, but it won’t last. This must be what the council wants to discuss.”
“Yes,” Lasma confirmed as they approached the back courtyard of the Doriel home.
The scent of cooking filled the air, the women in charge of the kitchen were busy making the midday meal. The Doriel Manor fed almost fifty people daily; workers in the workshop where Azula liked to manufacture his blueprints. His master had long left the crafting to him and moved to the yard controlled by the Sura in the Nerasa Kingdom. Azula visited him when he could extricate himself from the yoke of governing the thriving Sura Island.
“Azula,” Lasma said, her tone somber as they slowed their walk. “Our island has grown under your guidance. Our people have stable livelihoods, the farms are filled with harvest, the children are going to school and have hope for their futures and careers. The eldest of our people are well taken care of.” Lasma smiled. “Perhaps this is what your father dreamed of creating when he tried to have the clan thrive in Genad City. You have made it happen on our island despite being a chief appointed in a time of great tragedy.”
“There are cracks in the barrel,” Azula reminded his mother, pausing by a stone outdoor table. He lifted Ruri from his shoulders, kissed the boy’s cheeks as he set him on the table.
“Be careful,” Lasma said as Ruri jumped off the table and ran into the house with great enthusiasm. “Look at him, running wilder than you when you were a toddler.”
Lasma sighed, then turned to look at Azula.
“What cracks are you talking about?”
“Our people are comfortable, no longer worried about surviving,” Azula said, then met Lasma’s gaze. “They have time to think about what happened five years ago. The questions have been whispered often around me.”
“You think our people wonder about their loved ones who died in Lyria,” Lasma said.
“I don’t wonder, I know,” Azula said, crossing his arms against his chest. He tried not to think about the Lyria Kingdom. If he tried to spend a minute thinking about it, he might abandon his promises to his mother and set out on a revenge spree. He still wanted to know why his clan, his father, had to endure such betrayal in the capital. Closing his eyes, he forced the negative feelings under control and focused on the present.
“Mom, Sura Island is doing well now,” Azula said. “While we don’t need the mainland, we still need to navigate a path into full independence. We need to find a way to escape if Nerasa Kingdom brings up annexation.”
“It’s good that you know that you can’t string along the golden-haired general for another five years,” Lasma said with a chuckle. “You’re also right, while our people wonder about the past, I pray that the Lyria Kingdom does not remember us and our ability to pay taxes. I can only imagine what kind of demands they will make on us should they land on our shores.”
Azula dropped his arms to his sides and shook his head. “Okay, I’m getting a headache discussing this situation. Can we continue later and deal with it when it is absolutely necessary?”
“You’ve said that for a year,” Lasma said as Azula started walking to the door. “We’re already at the absolutely necessary juncture. We need to find a solution soon. I’m telling you that is what the council will push for.”
Azula sighed. “Ask Juya and Alise to think on it and figure out what to do next.”
“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing when you say that,” Lasma said in exasperation.
“Mom, sometimes, I’m just letting you know that I’m a very lazy demon and would rather be smearing grease on my face in my workshop than figure out political games.”
Azula entered the kitchen and grinned when the women all greeted him with enthusiasm. They forced him to wash his hands and face in a large basin filled with hot water, before offering him a plate of food. Now this was the right kind of problem to manage, he thought as he received a plate filled with roasted sweet and sour chicken.
***
In the grand palace in the imperial capital, Genad City, two boys sat on a clean, colorful mat playing with toys in the bright sun-filled greeting room of Rose Hall.
Basilinna Soriel was hosting the noble and notable ladies of Genad City to celebrate the warmer weather. They were having afternoon tea and pastries made by the skilled palace baker and an exciting reading by a popular romance writer.
Soriel moved around the room talking to the women and building bonds. She provided help and support on any reasonable requests. It was her small way of winning support for her husband in the imperial court. She was winning the wives’ hearts to soften the husbands’ goals, wielding soft power to win the hard hearts of the power-mongering courtiers.
Soriel finished a conversation with the prime minister’s wife, who wanted her to attend her daughter’s birthday. She went to join her mother and Noriel who sat on a couch by the windows showing off the rose garden at Rose Hall.
Soriel sat next to Noriel and let out a soft, tired sigh. Meira, Soriel’s silent guard, moved a few of the attendants to block the view of the three women from the rest of the room. Soriel accepted the cup of orange juice Noriel gave her and drank it in one go. Placing the cup on the table, she sighed when she met her mother’s amused gaze.
“Your gift of gab has only grown these five years. It surely should tire you,” Silveren said. “All these ladies have received a kind word this afternoon. Your husband may not be happy with your burgeoning social calendar.”
“He will have to appreciate it. The relationships I’ve been cultivating have grown strong enough to rival Olneth’s authority,” Soriel said, her gaze shifting to the two boys playing on a mat a few feet away. “Our son depends on my husband gaining more strength. So does Raith’s son. Speaking of which, why didn’t Naeri come with you today?”
***
Silveren sighed. She looked at the rest of the hall and was glad to notice the visiting ladies had tacitly moved to the other end of the large room and were busy tasting pastries and talking about the story the writer had read earlier. The weather had stopped snowing and the ground was thawing, the flowers beginning to bloom, while the farmers prepared for planting.
It was a time of renewal.
Silveren hoped her son, Raithion, would find it in his heart to forgive his wife soon.
“Word came from the Commandery Office this morning,” Silveren said, her gaze on the four-year-old boy sitting a few feet away.
His name was Yulin Maenaer. He was Raithion’s heir, a child born by Naeri after she drugged Raithion using an unknown aphrodisiac at a party in her parents’ home. Naeri’s apothecary was skilled. She got pregnant with the first try and to a boy no less. While Raithion could not forgive her first betrayal, Silveren could not fault Naeri for helping to stabilize their family’s future. With an heir, both Thanir and Raithion’s titles were secure. Still, Silveren had no idea how to heal the planet-sized rift that had grown between Naeri and Raithion.
“Raith is supposedly heading to the capital. He should be arriving today or tomorrow,” Silveren said, looking away from the children to meet Soriel’s knowing gaze.
“It’s good that he is coming back,” Noriel said, her gaze shifting to Yulin. “His son should spend more time with him. At this rate, Yulin will start thinking our father is his father.”
Soriel sighed. “Naeri stayed home to prepare for him, I guess.”
“Mm,” Silveren said. “She’s cooking and cleaning and arranging for new clothes for the children and Raith.”
“He will end up here in the palace,” Soriel predicted with disturbing accuracy.
Silveren smiled because her youngest daughter knew her eldest son best.
“Raith stays in the commandery prince quarters or at the barracks with his soldiers when he is in the capital. He has done that since Naeri drugged him the second time to get Skye.”
“The girl is a year and a half, so cute and cuddly,” Noriel said. “How does brother stay so angry at his wife?”
“Your marriage is loving, sister,” Soriel said, sipping a second cup of orange juice. “Your husband has not done anything to betray your trust since you married. Your son, Leisha, is happy and running around in a loving family. What has Naeri done all this time in our Maenaer home but fill it with aphrodisiac poison plots,” Soriel scoffed. “Which of us has dealt with such frightening things?”
Noriel sighed and reached for her teacup and took a slow sip.
“Mom, you’ll have to take care of Yulin and Skye,” Noriel said after a period of silence. “Don’t let them learn bad things from their mother. Naeri’s methods are too cunning for our straightforward home.”
“I know,” Silveren said with a nod. “In any case, the children are our blood, regardless of how they came into existence. I’ll have Jaguar start teaching Yulin when he turns five years old.”
“That’s good,” Soriel and Noriel both agreed.
Jaguar was a scholar who the Maenaer family had sponsored in Draeya County. He had taught all the Maenaer children, and his school was based in the family home in Draeya County.
“Isn’t five years old too soon to take a child from his mother?” Noriel asked after a moment.
“When your mother is as scary as Naeri, who is advised and hounded by Gesi Ajai,” Soriel said, shaking her head. “I think this child should leave the kingdom and go to a foreign land until we can subdue his father. Since that is not an option, and he is of our blood, we must get him to choose our Maenaer values.”
“Little bird is right,” Silveren nodded in approval, her gaze shifting back to Raithion’s son.
Yulin got up on the mat, followed closely by his cousin, Rane, the Basileus’s heir, and the boys raced to Silveren’s side.
“Grandma, a gift,” Rane said, holding a bright green feather that had probably escaped a flower pin worn by one of the ladies and had fallen on their mat.
Silveren chuckled and took the bright green feather. “Rane and Yulin are so cute. They brought me a feather. What should I give you in return?”
“A peach,” Yulin said, his eyes so green and bright just like his father’s, sparkled with hope at this age.
“A jade,” Rane said, also looking at her with Soriel’s brown eyes.
Silveren sighed. Her children had given birth to replicas of themselves. Yulin, the four-year-old boy, only ever wanted to eat good things, play to his heart’s content, and sleep, just like his father when he was young.
Rane, on the other hand, was truly a prince. He played with expensive jade and gold, but his heart was pure, and he loved his cousin.
Silveren reached for a peach slice on the table and gave it to Rane. Rane turned and gave it to Yulin without hesitation, making sure his cousin held it well before he smiled wide. Yulin took a bite of the fruit and Rane clapped.
Silveren wished life was just as easy as Rane and Yulin’s cute relationship. She wished there was an easy way to heal Raithion’s heart. She stroked Rane’s dark hair and reached out to caress Yulin’s cheek before she looked at Soriel.
“If Raithion comes to the commandery office, tell him I’m looking for him. There is a repair list for the manor’s defenses that needs his attention.”
“I’ll tell him,” Soriel said.
“Tell him he doesn’t need to sleep in his residence. Our main house has many rooms,” Silveren said with a sigh. “I’ll let him use as many as he wants.”
Noriel grinned. “It’s almost the Spring Festival. I’ll visit to make him the mint toffee he likes to eat.”
Soriel chuckled. “Everyone in this city remembers how much he loves your mint toffee.”
Silveren smiled as her daughters laughed at the happy memory.
****
Naeri arranged a blanket over her daughter in the rocking bassinet. They were in the great room, sitting on the long couches near sunny windows. Her gaze shifted to the large armchair that she always hoped Raithion could use but never did, and her heart ached.
She pricked her finger with the needle she held and brought her left index finger to her mouth to suck the welling blood. The dark cloak she held had an intricate white-lion embroidery she was trying to finish on the hem. She wanted to gift it to Raithion when he came home, that is, if he would even accept it.
Sitting on a stool opposite her was Rassa, her closest attendant. Rassa was finishing up the work on one side of the cloak with the help of a young lady.
Raithion’s housekeepers, two sisters named Aryn and Sira, had gone with Silveren to the palace. The butler was busy managing the daily needs of the manor, and the last of Raithion’s trusted attendants, a young man named Sharian, had gone with Raithion on his expedition to the border.
The rest of the attendants who ran the residence were loyal to Thanir and Silveren and often left with them when the couple was not around. Which meant the manor was quite peaceful for the moment, with only Rassa and the young girl from Naeri’s household.
Naeri had declined Basilinna Soriel’s invitation as she wanted to make sure their residence was neat in case Raithion arrived home. She had not seen him for a year and a half. In truth, she had not seen him since she gave birth to their daughter, Skye. The girl was already born, but her husband could not forgive her misdeeds.
Naeri let out a soft sigh and reached over to hold the handle of the rocking bassinet. She moved it from side to side, her gaze on the cute little girl who had dark hair like her father and brown eyes to match Naeri’s.
Raithion gave beautiful children. It was a pity she would only get two from him. He now treated her worse than a leper. She was not to be touched, like a terrible illness.
“What do you think can change Raithion’s attitude toward me?” Naeri asked Rassa. “He is so set against me. I don’t have a place to start with him. Surely, five years have passed. Others look at us like we are an old married couple. If they knew that he can’t stand to drink a glass of water near me, let alone look at our children, wouldn’t it be a joke.”
Shaking her head, Naeri lamented her strange fate.
“Give him another year,” Rassa said. “Perhaps when the children are running around and voicing their opinions, there will be a way to soften his heart.”
“But,” Naeri started, then stopped, staring at the orange jade ring she wore on her left ring finger. She had clearly stood in the large Maenaer hall, watched as the Basileus officiated their marriage in person, only to face a cold husband in the side residence. Draeya Commandery Prince Raithion Maenaer did not try even once to give her a chance. He had been cold and unyielding from the start.
Faced with her father’s constant nagging to get an heir, she had no choice but to seek help from the apothecary who had taken care of her since childhood. She had thought that once their first child was born, Raithion would soften toward her, but he’d only grown more distant. Then, two and a half years ago, in a fit of desperation and selfishness, she used the apothecary’s drug in Raithion’s bathwater. It resulted in Skye, but a clear break emerged in her marriage.
Raithion moved out of their residence and went to live in the Commandery Office full time. No amount of pleading, threats, or requests would change his mind. A year ago, he had left the capital to patrol the state’s armies and the kingdom’s borders on behalf of the Basileus.
The heartache of loneliness was something Naeri could not describe to Raithion’s happily married sisters and mother. Not even the powerful Basilinna, who had all of Raithion’s support, could understand.
Naeri was well aware that she was quite pitiful as a wife. She could only rely on Silveren and Thanir’s parental power to control Raithion. His parents were the only people who could summon their son home. She had no power over Raithion, and it was the saddest thing in the world.
Naeri sighed again.
“Well, let’s get the cloak done,” she said, picking up her needle. “Lady Silveren got a list from Butler Daron asking my husband to help fix the back wall of our residence. The defenses have deteriorated. He is now powerful in the capital, and his enemies grow every day. I know he will come to help fortify the walls. At the very least, he will finally put eyes on Skye, poor girl has never seen her father.”
“Don’t worry, My Lady,” Rassa said, smiling as they both looked at Skye, who was sleeping peacefully in her bassinet.
****
It was raining hard when Raithion finally arrived at the Maenaer Manor in the capital. It was almost midnight. Daron got the guards to open the gates and light the lamps.
“Lord Raith, welcome home,” Daron said as Raithion dismounted his horse and handed the reins to the waiting stable steward.
“How is everyone in the house?” Raithion asked Daron as he entered the main house.
“His Grace, your father, is in Draeya County inspecting the planting season at the estate,” Daron said. “Lady Silveren visited the palace today. She returned an hour ago and has gone to sleep. The Commandery Princess has retired to the side residence.”
“Don’t wake them,” Raithion said, then nodded to the three cargo carriages waiting. “The legion officers will offload the supplies we need for the repair lists. There are packages put together by Kailu and Sharian. Sharian collected gifts for everyone in the house. Distribute them as you wish.”
“I’ll make sure everything is arranged,” Daron said with a pleased smile. “I had Aryn and Sira arrange your quarters on the first floor of the main house. No one has had access to them other than me, Aryn, and Sira. We have not told the side residence where you will sleep.”
“Thank you,” Raithion said, entering his parents’ house. He greeted Aryn and Sira, who were waiting for him at the stairs. His clothes were soaking wet after his hectic ride in the rain. The girls first led him to a hot bath, then upstairs to his rooms, where he changed into comfortable clothes and fell on his bed into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Raithion dressed for a day spent working at home in a soft white tunic, dark trousers, and boots. He had no need for weapons at home, but he did keep daggers in his boot. It was Saturday, and his mother’s list weighed on his mind.
He went downstairs to the dining room and was eating grilled chicken slices, tomatoes, and slices of bread spread with soft cheese when his mother came down.
“The birds must be flying upside down this morning,” Silveren said as she sat at the round dining table. She accepted a cup of warm water from Aryn and drank it with a small smile.
“Daron,” Silveren said when the butler came in, carrying a kettle filled with hot water for tea. “Can you look out the windows to make sure the birds are up the right way? My son is sitting at my dining table. I must be dreaming.”
“You’re not dreaming, Lady Maenaer,” Daron said, amused. “Lord Raith came home late last night. He did not want to wake you after a tiresome day.”
“Mm, how good he is to his mother,” Silveren said, then glanced at Raithion, who was watching her quietly. “Are you injured?”
“No,” Raithion said.
“Would you tell me if you were?” Silveren asked.
“No,” Raithion said.
Silveren scowled at him.
“I don’t want to worry you unnecessarily,” Raithion said.
“Then, aren’t you concerned that I would miss you if you were gone for a year?” Silveren asked. “What good things are at the border that you stayed so long?”
“The border is secure. I’m not worried about war breaking out soon after the work we’ve completed,” Raithion said.
“I’m so happy for you,” Silveren said. “Meanwhile, I’m worried the cold front that is raging in your house will turn my flowers frigid.”
“Then, Daron, start the fireplace in the great room and warm up my mother’s flowers so that they don’t freeze,” Raithion said.
“Do you think we’re discussing peonies?” Silveren asked, sipping the steaming tea Aryn served her.
“Then what would we be discussing?” Raithion asked as he finished his food. He pushed his plate aside and poured himself a second cup of hot tea, sipping it with a contented smile.
“How long will you keep up a cold front with your wife?” Silveren asked.
“I can’t trust her with my clothes, food, bedding, bathing water, hell, the first time she drugged me with wine at someone else’s home during an event. You tell me, Mother, where should I start?”
Silveren stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Then, Yulin and Skye, where should you, their father, start with them? They are yours.”
“She takes care of them—”
“I’m not done,” Silveren cut in. “Those children are innocent. They are Maenaer, born in these halls. They are part of the future you’re working so hard to protect. As their father, where should you start? Holding such a long grudge, you will end up hurting them.”
“My grudges shall be resolved by me when I’m good and ready to do so,” Raithion said. “As for the innocent, Mom, I can only entrust them to you. If you leave them to me, I will poison them with anger and hate.”
“Raith,” Silveren said, her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“This is the most I can do at the moment,” Raithion said honestly. He had had a year to think about his current predicament with Naeri. His heart was not resolved to the betrayals she had placed on him. If she wanted children, she should have agreed to discuss it with him. Perhaps they would have found a way, but to force him… he shook his head and met his mother’s gaze.
“Give me time,” Raithion said. “Let me work at finding peace to deal with this in my own way. Call Jaguar and have him start training the boy early. Let the child leave this place and go run in the wilds of our Draeya County. He will be able to stay open and carefree for a while longer before he learns the truth of his father and mother.”
Raithion got up then, pushing his chair back.
“Today, I’ll fix the walls and the defenses as you’ve asked. I’ve tasked Kailu with rotating the guards in the manor,” Raithion said. “I’ll head back to the Commandery Office tomorrow morning.”
“Raith,” Silveren cried out in protest.
“Dad has everything he wanted in place,” Raithion said, his voice hard. “The power, the titles, a future heir, a powerful Basilinna, and his alliance with the Basileus is assured. How I’m living now is the best way for me to survive all this joy he has worked for. Don’t judge me for it. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
****
Saturday morning, Naeri left the Maenaer Manor early without telling Silveren. She wanted to get butter from her mother’s workshop. She had discovered that their house made very good butter. Raithion was partial to mint toffee, and while she could not make it the way he liked it, Silveren appreciated fresh butter. So Naeri tried to get a fresh batch from her family when Raithion was around.
Her mother was excited to see her when she arrived. She got a scolding for having left the children at home, but she was in a hurry to get back. Naeri had only brought Rassa with her. Benira Ajai was still adamant about feeding her a cup of tea, so they sat on the patio at the back of the house and ate pineapple pastries.
Naeri found herself relaxing as she listened to her mother discuss their neighborhood’s gossip: who had a new baby, which daughter was caught seeing a man she shouldn’t, which family had gained or lost wealth. It felt nice to sit around and listen to gossip.
Suddenly, Naeri realized the Maenaer women did not gossip like Benira. No, Silveren, Noriel, and Soriel discussed the harvest, planned parties with dignitaries to achieve specific goals, and managed war supplies for their brother and Thanir Maenaer.
Here in her mother’s courtyard, the conversation was simple, down-to-earth, and easy. Naeri smiled as her mother reached up to help her fix a flower pin that was askew.
“I heard that Raithion is back in the capital,” Benira said. “The girls went out to fetch fresh milk from the dairy, and they saw his right-hand man riding into town. He must have arrived very late last night.”
“Mm,” Naeri said, though it was news to her. No one in the manor had alerted her that Raithion was already home. She had left the house early, thinking he would be arriving later. Her heart skipped a beat. She needed to get back home fast. Raithion was like a fast wind. He came and went in the blink of an eye.
“I should take the butter home. My husband is always so busy,” Naeri said, placing her cup down. “I want them to use the butter from our workshop for the mint toffee he likes.”
“Okay, I’ll go hurry the steward. You should say hello to your father before you go. He’s in the greenhouse,” Benira said as she got up. “I’ll have the butter ready by the time you get back.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Naeri said, getting up and tidying her skirts. She hurried to a path that would lead her to the back of the mansion. She was in a hurry as she walked down the path to her father’s greenhouse. She only realized her father had guests when she was close to the door, and it was almost too late. There were three bushy mulberries near the greenhouse entrance, so Naeri ducked behind one of them to avoid disturbing her father. He got very angry if he was interrupted. Patting her chest for thinking fast, she let out a relieved breath and settled down to wait for her father to finish.
Then her father’s voice drifted to her. He was angry, raging…
“…the Prime Minister has gained support these last two years. Basilinna Soriel has made quite an effort in helping her husband gain the support of Libert ministers. She holds soft power, which she understands how to use, thanks to her brother’s backing. These siblings have made it nearly impossible to go against her and her support for the Prime Minister. We are at an impasse. Our Populi party cannot shake the Prime Minister’s position,” Gesi Ajai kicked something and let out a growl. “I need something to shift this deadlock. Otherwise, we’ll never win more leverage at court.”
“What about the plan Rosner gave up?” Sazama asked. “It’s still viable. Rassa is here too.”
Naeri clamped a hand over her mouth, wondering what her closest attendant was doing with her father.
“I’m here, but what does that have to do with Rosner?” Rassa’s voice drifted to Naeri.
Naeri’s eyes widened as she realized her closest attendant worked for her father. No wonder, she thought, as fear bloomed in her heart. No wonder it was so easy to get the apothecary’s aphrodisiac when she needed it.
Of course, Rassa would have been the one to tell Gesi that Raithion was cold toward her. Then he would have pushed for the apothecary to make the formula that she had given Raithion. It had happened so easily, so fast.
“The Draeya Prince is around,” Rassa said with confidence. “I can keep an ear out and see if he will host the Prime Minister at the manor. Sazama can handle it if the Prime Minister doesn’t visit. I would prefer it, as it reduces the risk for me. The Draeya Prince is very strict with security.”
“Do you have it?” Gesi asked. “Sazama?”
“I have it,” Sazama said. “I’ll give a portion to Rassa. She will know how to brew it in tea. One big sip and we will not have to worry about the Prime Minister.”
“That is if Rassa is able to act when he visits the Maenaer,” Gesi said.
Naeri gasped and could not hold back the sound in time. Fear propelled her into a run, and she took off at a fast sprint, heading back to the patio where her mother had served tea. She did not look back as she ran to see whether her father’s accomplices had seen her. Her heart pounded so hard in her ears she could not think.
****
“Damn it, it’s Lady Naeri,” Sazama said, coming back to the greenhouse after going out to investigate the foreign sound. “I just saw her running back to the main house.”
Gesi cursed under his breath. “This girl is going to drive me crazy. Rassa, I need you to manage her. Find a way to convince her about our plan. If you can get her help, it will be even better. The faster she realizes her husband is a liability, the better.”
Rassa nodded. “I will convince her. Besides, I can also get her to believe she misheard you. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll trust you with this,” Gesi said. “It’s hard enough with everything that’s going on.”
“I’ll handle it,” Rassa promised.
***
Naeri forgot the butter she was collecting from her mother. She ran out of her parents’ home and into her carriage and urged the driver to go back to the Maenaer residence. Her heart raced with cold fear as she tried to decipher what Rassa, Sazama, and her father were discussing.
It sounded like an assassination attempt on the Prime Minister, sickening to imagine. She worried about her husband. Despite their endless cold war, Raithion was the father of her children. Her future and the children’s future depended on his well-being. So, a Prime Minister dead or poisoned in their home would utterly make their world end.
Shaking her head, she was glad when the carriage came to a stop outside the main gate. She exited too fast and hurried up the steps to the front door, only to be met by a smiling Silveren.
“Naeri, where did you go? I was looking for you. It’s already afternoon, Child. Your husband is in the main hall of your residence,” Silveren said, taking Naeri’s hand and guiding her into the house. “Why do you look so pale? Are you ill?”
Naeri felt tears prick the backs of her eyes as Silveren stopped and pressed the back of her hand over Naeri’s forehead.
“Mm, your temperature feels okay,” Silveren continued. “Come on, I think you should rest for a while, then find your husband. Try to mend what is broken. Slowly, okay? Don’t lose hope.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Naeri said, her voice soft, her heart still pounding in her chest. It was a wonder that Silveren could not hear it. Silveren led her to the back exit of the main house. The door opened to a short path that led into the courtyard and the house Naeri lived in.
Silveren let her proceed alone. Naeri took in the men hard at work on the perimeter walls in the distance. There were also two men on the roof, mending leaks she had not gotten to amid the multitude of tasks she had to perform.
It felt nice to have someone else take up the repairs. Removing her overcoat, she stepped into the great room and paused when she saw Raithion sitting in the large armchair arranged for him, just as she had dreamed when she placed it there.
How many times had she watched and waited, hoping he would come home and occupy the armchair? Now, seeing him sift through invoices and talk to Daron, paying invoices and signing household expense requests felt so right.
Naeri could not stop the tears that filled her eyes. She had to tell Raithion what she had heard. Maybe it would bring them closer, perhaps… it would make up for all the wrongs she had done to her husband.
****
After a marathon of repair work, Raithion sat in the armchair in his great room to authorize monthly repairs. It was his fault he had neglected the care of the residence, as the funds came from his personal accounts.
“Daron, if there is any urgent problem with the house, send Sharian to the barracks or the Commandery Office. Don’t let it get to the point of disrepair,” Raithion said.
“I understand,” Daron said as he watched Raithion set aside money for the invoice that would help the manor guards replenish arrows used on mounted bows on the perimeter walls from the imperial warehouse.
“These are invoices from the tailor. The Commandery Princess had clothes made for the children,” Daron said.
“Mm.” Raithion signed the invoice and set aside money for the expense. The amount was usual for clothes tailored for the people in the house. He just had never needed to make such a payment before.
“I’ll excuse myself,” Daron said after a moment. “I’ll leave these invoices with you.” He placed the stack of five invoices on the stool next to Raithion’s chair.
Raithion glanced up, wanting to ask why Daron was leaving, only to see Naeri coming to sit on the couch to the left of Raithion’s armchair. She looked nervous. She wore a beautiful pale blue dress with a fitted bodice and long silk skirts. Her blonde hair was tied in an intricate style, held together in a convoluted manner by pins.
Naeri looked at him with worried brown eyes, and Raithion felt a punch in his gut, the kind he hated, as he wondered what plot she was spinning. It annoyed him that she could not be trusted.
“My Lord,” Naeri started. “It’s good to see you home. It’s been a long time.”
“It has been,” Raithion said, thinking it was not long enough.
Every time he looked at Naeri, he could not help remembering the endless burning sensation of the poison she put in his drink at that party, or in the bathwater. He had endured an excruciating burning that could only be relieved by bedding her endlessly, caught in an inescapable lust that made him feel both pleasure and disgust. He closed his eyes and let out a small breath.
“Is there something you need to tell me?” Raithion asked, as he forced his focus on the remaining invoices on the table in front of him.
“I—” Naeri started, then paused when one of her attendants brought a kettle and two cups.
The young lady was followed by Yulin, who glanced at Raithion with a shy, hopeful innocent smile before he leaned on his mother’s lap.
The attendant left. Naeri, knowing Raithion would not drink tea she had poured, made herself a cup and kept the teapot closest to her.
“Mom,” Yulin said. “I want tea.”
Naeri gave Raithion a nervous glance, but she took the second cup and poured Yulin half a cup of the tea, then blew on it to make sure it was not too hot. Naeri placed it on the side for their son, then picked up her cup and took a few sips, as though to fortify herself.
“My Lord, there is something I must tell you. I went to see my mother this morning and—” Naeri broke off, pressing her right hand to her stomach with a small frown. She shrugged and continued. “I know you don’t like to hear much about my family, but—”
Yulin took his cup and sipped it, but then Naeri gasped and hit the cup their son held, spilling the tea on the floor.
Raithion frowned as Naeri turned to him with wide eyes.
“I—” Naeri started as she stood up, her hands pressed to her stomach, her expression twisting with pain. “I’m sorry.”
Raithion got up as Naeri started to fall to the floor, as Yulin broke into painful cries.
“Daron!” Raithion called out as he caught Naeri. He lifted her and carried her to one of the long couches in the great room, arranging a pillow under her head. He started to move away to get Yulin, but she gripped his right wrist.
“Wait,” Naeri said, coughing, and Raithion frowned as he noticed the blood coloring her teeth. “I—I’m sorry for everything. I—I didn’t know. M-my father—”
Naeri broke into a coughing fit just as Daron, Sharian, Aryn, and Sira entered the great room.
“Lock down the manor,” Raithion ordered, but his voice sounded distant, as if it belonged to someone else. “Get a healer here, and, Daron, guard that tea kettle and the teacup with your life. Sharian, ride to the palace and get Volker to send the imperial coroner, Dain. He will know what to look for in the tea. Send for an imperial healer.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Sharian, Aryn, and Sira ran out of the room to make sure Raithion’s orders were followed. The healer who lived in the manor came running in, and Raithion moved away to give her space to check on Naeri.
“Lord Raith,” Daron said, and Raithion turned to find him holding an unconscious Yulin.
Raithion crossed the distance in three numb strides and gathered the boy from Daron’s arms. He frowned when he saw Yulin had blood on his lips too.
Yulin’s weight was too light. His small hands were cool. A cold rush went through Raithion’s chest like water, shocking and blinding, filling him with helplessness. He laid Yulin on the couch next to the one with his mother and arranged him carefully. He smoothed his palm over the child’s dark hair, felt the slight dampness of sweat, the too-still breath. Something tore in him, low and unfamiliar, raw as ripped cloth.
Raithion sighed and turned to see what the healer was doing by Naeri’s side.
“Raithion,” Naeri’s whisper had him getting up. Raithion moved to the other side of the long couch and found Naeri watching for him with wide, bloodshot eyes.
“Don’t panic, I’ve called for a healer from the palace. They will have an antidote,” Raithion said.
Naeri let out a soft chuckle and shook her head, then motioned for him to lean closer. She took in a deep breath when Raithion bent down close to hear what she was saying.
“I-it’s too late. S-save Yulin. Fi-ind R-Rassa,” Naeri’s voice faded.
When he straightened, her gaze did not follow. The healer checked her, and Raithion frowned when, after a moment, she shook her head, indicating that his wife had passed. The room went suddenly quiet, except for Yulin’s unsteady breath.
****
The gates of the Maenaer Manor were locked and sealed. No one inside the manor grounds could leave. The imperial healer arrived first and rechecked Naeri, confirming that she was already dead. She had been killed by the poison in the tea she had drunk.
Silveren ran into Raithion’s house in a panic and stared at Naeri, who was still lying on the long couch. The healers were now focused on Yulin, who lay near his mother, alive but unconscious. The two healers were trying to identify the poison used in order to give the right antidote. Sharian had yet to arrive with Dain.
“Who could have done this?” Silveren asked in shock. “She was fine when she walked in earlier. How could this happen? Raith?”
“The manor is locked down. We’ll find out soon,” Raithion said, his voice low. Inside he felt hollowed out, as if something had scooped him clean. “She wanted to tell me something, something about her father. Then she drank the tea and fell to the ground. It was too fast. She asked me to find someone named Rassa. Who is that?”
“Her closest attendant,” Silveren said.
“Why did she leave this morning?” Raithion asked.
Silveren shook her head. “I give her freedom to live her life. She’s free to visit her maternal home as she wills.” Silveren sighed. “She heard you were coming home and probably wanted to get butter. Naeri claims… claimed the butter from her family brought out the mint toffee best.”
“Did she bring any butter?” Raithion asked.
Silveren shook her head. “I don’t know. We’ll have to check with the main kitchen.”
Raithion nodded and turned to face the front door, where there was a commotion. Sharian had returned with Dain, the imperial coroner. Kailu and Haedor followed them in. They all wore the same shocked expressions when they saw Naeri lying on the long couch.
Dain did not hesitate. Taking the kettle from Daron, he got to work immediately. Aryn and Sira brought him any utensils he asked for, and within minutes he poured the tea into a large bowl and began investigating the dregs.
“There are seeds here,” Dain said, lifting one with a small pin. “They look like they are from the devil’s trumpet. Use activated charcoal on the boy.”
The imperial healer mixed a vial of activated charcoal into a bowl, and with Aryn’s help they got Yulin to swallow most of it. The child coughed and swallowed, limp and obedient.
“The rest will need time,” Dain said. “Whoever made this poison has layered different herbs.”
“Is Yulin safe?” Silveren asked, moving to perch on the edge of the long couch where Yulin was.
“We’ll have to watch over him and treat his symptoms as they come, for now,” the imperial healer said.
Silveren let out a soft cry and reached for Yulin’s hand, holding it tight.
Raithion stepped to Naeri’s couch and looked down. Her eyes were closed. Blood had dried at the corner of her mouth. The cage of pins held her hair perfectly. He placed her hands over her stomach and touched the orange jade ring on her left hand. He straightened her skirts, then stepped back, helpless, at a loss for what else a man should do for the wife he had not learned how to forgive and now would never see again.
A knot formed in his chest. He did not know whether it was grief or guilt. Perhaps both. He had stayed away. He told himself he was protecting what remained of his self-respect. Now, what did that self-respect stand for?
Raithion turned to Yulin. The boy’s lashes trembled against his cheeks. Raithion felt the pain sharpen, clean and unbearable. Suddenly the four-year-old boy was not an heir described on paper, not the consequence of a crime, but a breathing child who carried his blood.
“Raith,” Silveren said softly. “We should begin to plan a funeral.”
Raithion nodded and looked to Daron. “Treat her funeral as befits the lady of the manor. Give her all the rights of the Commandery Princess. Report it to the palace.”
Daron bowed and hurried away.
Raithion lifted Yulin. The boy’s weight settled against his chest. Too light. Too warm at the forehead, too-cold tiny hands.
“I will take him to his room,” Raithion said. “Imperial Healer, I hope you can find a cure soon. Aryn and Sira will make sure you have everything you need.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” the imperial healer said.
Raithion glanced at Kailu and Haedor. “Find the assassin. Naeri mentioned Rassa. Find her and discover what’s going on.”
He held his son closer, feeling the small thud of Yulin’s heart against his own, and carried him upstairs.
****
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