“I had no idea. Aimilia, I’m so sorry,” Gavril whispered, reaching forward and placing his hand on her knee.
“It’s not your fault.” Aimilia whispered as she leaned into Marcella. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Uncle Cyprian’s orders. That’s why I wanted the post so much. Getting it meansI’d get to see him and be there when he passes. Even if I can’t have that post, I need something to do.”
“A distraction?” Marcella asked.
Aimilia shook her head. “Something to keep me sharp. I can’t afford to get rusty. When my grandfather dies, I’ll be going to the Mitis estate anyway. I’ll have to fight the other commanders in my family to earn the position of head of our house. I’ll be the youngest among them. If I’m going to have a hope of it, I have to stay at my peak.”
“You are an amazing mage, better than me by far,” Gavril said, squeezing her knee. “I have faith.”
Aimilia snorted with a soft laugh. “You two and your faith.”
“How about this? We will come to the banquet tomorrow night for my mother’s birthday and see if maybe there’s a way we can help,” Gavril said. “At least I can try to get some answers from Nikias you can’t.”
“I’m holding you to it.” Aimilia shot Gavril a stern look. Nikias would hardly tell her what he was thinking, but since he was desperate to fix things with Gavril, he just might tell him. “Depending on how my conversation with him goes tomorrow, you might need to be there just to keep me from killing him.”
Marcella laughed while Gavril shook his head with a grin.
Aimilia would miss the two of them most if she went, but what else was there left for her to stay in Areator for?
Chapter 3
NIKIAS
Nikias had everything in place.
The metal piece with Aimilia’s name etched onto it rested in his desk drawer, sitting beside one that bore his name and the ties that would make up the necklaces. Tonight was the night.
He’d been patient, partially because he’d needed time of his own to recover and get everything in order, but mostly for Aimilia’s sake. He stared down at the reports he was supposed to be reading, but all he could think about was the banquet for his mother’s birthday that night.
Hopefully, his mother would be pleased with the development. He had, of course, already intimated to her and his father—in one of the king’s more lucid moments—who he had in mind to be his wife and fulfill his end of their deal. It had just been the timing of it all hadn’t been right.
Not until now.
Of course, they’d been pressuring him for months to get a move on. While Nikias was confident, he still couldn’t deny there was a slight turning to his stomach and a jitter that wasmanifesting in the way he was incessantly tapping the edge of his quill to the table any moment it wasn’t writing.
A knock sounded on his door. “Son?”
He set his quill to the side and hurriedly grabbed a rag to wipe the ink he’d smudged on his fingers as he called out, “Come in, Mother.”
The door swung open right as Nikias finished getting the last bit of ink off before his mother could see it and comment on how unbecoming it was. Or worse.
His mother, an imposing figure with her elegantly pinned-up hair and gold laurel crown resting among the pale blonde strands, stepped into his study. Nikias rose from his seat and inclined his head. “Happy birthday, Mother, although I intended on telling you this evening.”
She glanced out in the hallway, and Nikias’ breath hitched as he lifted his head. She took another step and shut the door behind her.
He kept his expression completely cold and impassive, no different than a marble statue.
His mother smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Just teeth that might as well have been made of ice as her sharp voice cut through the air. “Thank you, son. I trust all the arrangements have been taken care of?”
Nikias couldn’t help but glance at the closed door. “Of course. I’ve ensured it will be a night to remember. Nothing will go wrong.”
His mother nodded, moving through the room while Nikias stayed perfectly still. She glanced out the window. “The assignments went out yesterday. So I can presume, that’s not what has you hiding away in here?”
Nikias’ heart picked up in tempo. His voice, however, did not waver from its cold monotone. “Imperia can’t run itself.”
She craned her head, watching figures moving in the distance below. His mother looked back over at his desk, eyes narrowing at the reports. “Am I correct in that the healers’ most recent report on your father isn’t on your desk today?”
Nikias swallowed as she left the window and came closer. “I read it yesterday, Mother.”
