Aimilia whipped around. “Come to my senses? I assure you I have always had them. Nikias is the one who has been forcing me to be his partner while judging the exams, giving me no choice but to be in his presence and be seen in his presence by everyone! His petty, controlling display has changed nothing.”
“Everyone saw you leave the stadium in his cloak.” Cyprian glanced at the window before narrowing his eyes at her. “Do you mean to tell me you did so with no intention of accepting him? Have you no thought to your reputation? Making yourself look like some she-wolf?”
“I would have looked like a she-wolf if I’d walked out of there without it.” Aimilia gestured to the pile on the ground. “My clothes were ruined. Remember when I was crawling through the collapsing tunnel system to save fifty novices?”
Cyprian took a step toward her. “If you refuse Nikias again, I will see to it myself House Mitis will wipe their hands of you.”
Aimilia shot him a grin. “Really? You think you can disown me when I’ve just made myself a hero? I think the last thing House Mitis needs is to dissociate with me.”
Cyprian snapped his mouth shut. His face was turning as red as his hair, but he made no response. He couldn’t.
She lifted her chin and pointed to the door. “Now, get out. You’re clearly here because you think my only use is in who I marry. If I’d died down there, you’d only be mourning the fact that I was never queen.”
“Aimilia—”
“Out!”
Finally, he obeyed and Aimilia sank back onto her bed. She looked over her arms at the scratches and bruises still lingering, the aches nagging at her now that Cyprian was no longer a distraction.
She let herself drift off into a light doze as the ghost of Nikias’ gentle but fierce embrace chased her. His words echoed in her ears.
“Just because you didn’t think she was worth marrying doesn’t mean I agree.”
Aimilia dozed until a Solitus servant interrupted her, bringing her breakfast, and Aimilia managed to scrape up enough energy to wolf it down before collapsing back into bed, thoroughly beaten and exhausted.
“I don’t mind the distance.”
She was awoken again at midday with another meal and this time a healer. The servant set the tray of food down on Aimilia’s nightstand with a note beside it while the healer immediately had Aimilia get up to undress so she could start on all of her minor injuries that weren’t feeling so minor all piled on top of each other.
She was still groggy from sleep and Nikias’ voice haunting her throughout, so she didn’t think twice about it, complying with the healer’s sharp, brusque commands. At least, she didn’t start thinking until she saw the healer make a note in her book.
“Wait, I didn’t send for a healer,” Aimilia said as the woman turned back and started on a scrape on Aimilia’s thigh.
The woman’s vitae lit the air and she didn’t look up as she worked. “My orders came from His Highness.”
Oh.
Aimilia instead turned her attention to the food beside her. She’d done nothing but sleep and eat so far that day, and she was still famished. Part of it came from the healing she was undergoing as the healer sped up the natural healing process—it took not only vitae, but some of Aimilia’s physical energy as well. She started with the grapes, easy to eat with one hand and not disturb the healer’s work.
As the healer moved up to Aimilia’s side, she picked up the note and unfolded it, expecting Nikias’ handwriting and annoyance at whatever it would say. Instead, she saw an elegant, looping script that always sent chills down her spine.
Queen Clelia’s handwriting.
The healer was on the side those little bruises had been on. Thankfully Aimilia had taken care of those before anyone could see them. Anyone other than the other women in the bathhouse that day.
Aimilia skimmed through the note, hoping the healer didn’t take note of the dramatic tempo change of her heart. Clelia wanted Aimilia to come to her and the king’s quarters that afternoon and bring with her the “wonderful vitae-enhancing tea” for the king so they could thank her for her service and bravery.
As fresh bruises disappeared under the healer’s hands, Aimilia set the note down. She couldn’t refuse. And if Clelia was looking for suspects, Aimilia making the tea properly and serving it again should help keep suspicion off her.
The note wasn’t clear on whether Nikias would be there. She’d promised not to be alone with them again, but what choice did she have?
Hopefully Clelia wouldn’t raise a hand against the previous day’s hero, but Aimilia wouldn’t put it past her.
Aimilia kept staring at the note. She’d always known these things weren’t as simple as they appeared, but it was one thing to know it as an outsider, looking in and trying to best help Gavril, and it was another to be living it.
Nikias thought he could convince her to willingly subject herself to this for however much longer his parents lived? Worse, he thought he could protect her when he’d never been able to protect Gavril?
And he thought she’d marry him and risk enduring it because she wanted him?
