19
Despite the fact that the royal wedding was less than eight hours away, the tailor decided he wanted to make a few final adjustments to Tasia’s gown. The stress of her duties, perhaps, had caused a visible amount of weight loss, and the gown, according to the tailor, now hung on Tasia’s slender body “like a cloak on a peg.” Joslyn didn’t see a problem with it, but the tailor appeared quite mortified by the situation.
All of which explained why the daily morning meeting with Tasia’s advisors was taking place within her antechamber instead of the offices off the council room, the tailor and his two young apprentices fussing about with pin cushions and measuring strips while Wise Men and Brothers droned on about finances and crop yields.
The Wise Men and Brothers, neither of whose orders permitted their members to marry, seemed like they were trying not to look at Tasia while they gave their reports on this-or-that. Mace, however, stared at Tasia throughout the whole affair with a pensive expression on his face, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
Tasia wasn’t the only one who’d lost weight. Mace’s cheeks had a hollowness to them, his eyes were ringed by dark circles, and the chin resting on his fingers had a day’s worth of beard stubble on it, as if he had not taken the time to shave.
Joslyn watched him, wondering at his uncharacteristically somber demeanor and scruffy face. She also wondered, not for the first time, what Mace thought about marrying Tasia and becoming the second-most powerful person in the whole Empire. After all, Mace had been pushed into this union by his father, just like Tasia had been by hers.
Did he resent being manipulated like a game piece, just like Tasia always had? Perhaps. But power created different effects in different people. What if a crown awoke in Mace some latent lust for power that would eventually become a danger to Tasia?
Wise Man Fraden was just finishing up his report, detailing the ways in which he’d prepared the household staff for the afternoon’s wedding. Following the wedding, there would be a feast for the common people within the city, while the highborn would attend a ball at the palace. Fraden’s tone was as cheerful as always, though he had been somewhat more subdued ever since presiding over Darien’s arrival at the Canal Gate, when the assassin had nearly taken the Empress’s life.
Joslyn cleared her throat once Fraden was done. The attendees all turned to her. Unlike most morning meetings, she actually had a speaking role in this one, and when the room’s eyes landed on her, she was surprised to find butterflies suddenly crowding her stomach. She sought out Alric’s gaze, imagining she spoke only to him. It steadied her.
“As we all know,” Joslyn began, reciting the words she’d practiced in her head on the beach that morning, “keeping the Empress, our future Emperor, and the Princess safe during the wedding have been the Palace Guard’s chief concern this past week. To this end, a contingent of guardsmen have been patrolling the amphitheater since yesterday, working jointly with the city guard. City guard and palace guard will also be working together today to secure the Empress and Emperor’s route to and from the amphitheater, along with all the buildings, streets, and entrances nearby.”
“The Brotherhood is also working covertly to aid the Commander with security,” Brother Rennus put in. He’d been a regular fixture at the morning meetings ever since the assassination attempt. Although Evrart was both older than Rennus and officially still Tasia’s senior counselor, all the Brothers in the room treated Rennus with deference. In whatever secretive ranking system the Brotherhood had, Joslyn guessed that Rennus was higher than the rest.
Joslyn nodded in Rennus’s direction. “Yes, the Brotherhood has graciously loaned the House of Dorsa several healers and illusionists to aid the palace guard in the event that we must evacuate the royal family.” She paused. “Speaking of evacuation, has everyone familiarized themselves with contingency plans?” Nods from the advisors. “Good. Given Brother Rennus’s talent as a healer, he and his apprentice, Udolf, will remain close to the Empress and myself throughout the wedding ceremony and the subsequent ball.” Joslyn tried to keep her tone neutral when she added, “Brother Rennus also tells me that there will be beastwalkers present to help the Palace Guard with reconnaissance during the actual wedding ceremony.”
A couple of the Wise Men visibly paled and exchanged glances at this. Even the tailor looked up from his work, and one of the apprentices faltered and stabbed himself with a pin.
Mace didn’t shift out of his pensive posture, but his eyes flashed upward. “A beastwalker is …?”
“Some within the Brotherhood can temporarily inhabit an animal’s body,” Joslyn said. “We will have two beastwalkers on the ground and a third …” She couldn’t hide her moment’s hesitation. “And a third in the air.”
One of the Wise Men muttered something that Joslyn didn’t catch.
But Brother Rennus caught it. He turned his head sharply to address Tasia’s Minister of the Treasury. “I assure you, Wise Man Burrent,” he said, “there is quite a universe of difference between a Brother who wishes to preserve and protect the life the Empress and the creatures who attempted to defeat the House of Dorsa during the Battle of Port Lorsin.”
“Is there?” Fraden mumbled.
Brother Rennus looked ready to rebuke Wise Man Fraden as well, but stopped short when he caught Tasia’s eye upon him. Calmly, he said, “Over time, I am quite certain that the Brotherhood will win your trust.”
Joslyn wasn’t sure if “your” meant Wise Man Fraden’s trust, the House of Wisdom’s trust in general, or the Empire’s as a whole. What she was sure of was that, sooner or later, the conflict simmering beneath the surface within the House of Wisdom would boil over in a public and messy manner. One group would attempt to claim dominance over the other, and who could say which branch of the House of Wisdom would prevail? The Wise Men had political power and the people’s trust on their side, but the Brotherhood had sorcery.
“The Brotherhood suggested the beastwalkers to the Commander, and the Commander agreed,” said Brother Rennus, changing tack. He glanced up at Joslyn, who nodded her confirmation.
“My responsibility is to keep this wedding secure,” Joslyn said, directing the comment mainly at the Wise Men. “And I will accept whatever assistance I can find to accomplish that aim.” She waited for one of the assembled advisors to protest but none did. “I will be overseeing the guards at the wedding itself. The Deputy Commander, meanwhile, will remain here at the palace with the remainder of our guards, patrolling the palace, its grounds, and the ballroom. In all, I believe we are well-prepared for the day’s events. Do you have any questions for me?”
The Wise Men, Brothers, and Alric shook their heads no. Mace and Tasia both seemed too preoccupied to respond.
“Very good, thank you, Commander,” Evrart said. “I believe that concludes our business for this morning, unless anyone has anything else … ?”
“I have something else,” Tasia said.
The room grew still, all eyes turning towards the Empress expectantly.
“As you know, I will be leading an offensive to the East as soon as we have an adequate number of soldiers – and rune-marked blades to arm them with,” said Tasia. “As my closest advisors, I need your assurance that, should anything … happen to me, you will honor Mace as the rightful Emperor.”
Mace finally seemed to come out of his daze, hands moving from beneath his chin to the arms of his chair. He sat straighter, frowning slightly.
The Wise Men exchanged glances before Wise Man Ronalt, Tasia’s Minister of Agriculture and Trade, cleared his throat. “I believe I speak for all of your counselors when I say that we do wish that you were not going to put yourself at risk in this way –”
“I am beyond discussing it,” Tasia said brusquely.
“And that being the case, of course we will serve our new Emperor to the utmost of our abilities while you are away,” Ronalt concluded.
“But if I fall –”
“Do not even say such things,” said the Wise Man.
“If I fall,” Tasia pressed, “you must lead by example and embrace the new Emperor as a full member of the House of Dorsa.”
The room was quiet for a moment, the advisors’ eyes darting between each other, to Mace, to Tasia like nervous minnows.
Evrart cleared his throat. “Empress, I know you say you are beyond discussing your decision –”
“Which I am.”
“Which you are,” Evrart conceded, “but the unpleasant truth is that Mace of House Gifford is not a blood heir to the House of Dorsa.” He paused. “And you know very well that there are those who will try to take advantage of that, maneuvering Princess Adela into place as the more legitimate heir.”