Vanya tucked the vow into his robe’s pocket and walked away, refusing to look back how Raiah had despite everything in him crying out to do so.
Seven
VANYA
The Imperial estate in Oeiras was far larger than the ancestral estate the House of Sa’Liandel held in Calhames. Like other Imperial estates across the nation in capitalvasilyetcities, it acted as a miniature palace for a traveling head of state. It could by no means replace what Vanya had burned down, but it projected the sense of Imperial rule that he needed more so than Calhames could at this time.
The Constellation Hall was a scaled-down version of the throne room that had once existed in the Imperial palace. Like in the Senate, it held a throne, this one carved with the oceanic and jungle motifs of thevasilyetit stood in. The embroidered cushions on the seat and back were comfortable enough and had become familiar over the many months he’d sat in it, even if the sea of faces before him changed with every court session.
Vanya held court once a week, allowing petitioners from businesses and guilds, representatives of major and minor Houses, and others to present themselves with social and business requests, looking for Imperial approval. It was rare Vanya issued writs on behalf of the Imperial throne, but it was also a way to take the pulse of his people.
Imperial Empress Zakariya, of the House of Sa’Liandel, had always held court, and that was a habit Vanya had not broken since his mother’s death. It was an intimate political and social dance whose usual steps were upended this time by Soren’s appearance with the Ashionens. Vanya was certain that news of Soren’s return would reach representatives of the press the moment it was polite for anyone to leave, and from there, it would be in the broadsheets before sunset in cities across the country.
Every House would learn that Soren was known now as Prince Alasandair Rourke. That the warden Vanya had led into the royal crypts, who had been the catalyst for the sanctions levied against Solaria by the wardens, was himself a head of state. The repercussions of that would be nothing like what would come when the vow was brought to light and the debt Vanya owed had to be paid.
Vanya had to constantly remind himself not to reach for it, to ignore the weight of it in his pocket. The ghost of his past decision would haunt him soon enough, but for now, he had his subjects to meet. He kept his attention on his people, not the foreigners, hearing what was brought before him and taking everything under advisement, to be reviewed later with his Chief Minister and other advisers. An aide took discreet notes at a small standing writing desk tucked away near the wall but close enough to the throne dais to hear conversation. Taisiya sat in a grand seat beside the dais with Raiah in hand, his daughter on her best behavior.
The Ashionen delegation remained at the back, near the wall with its white-and-gold mosaic depicting the constellations of the six star gods. The Dawn Star’s imagery was the most prominent, and Vanya couldn’t look at it without remembering the way the golden tattoos had stood out against the dark skin of Callisto’s throat. He kept his attention on the crowd, not on the constellations, but that didn’t mean he could forget the Dawn Star’s words from that morning last year to keep the warden close.
Vanya knew he couldn’t, not when Soren had a road that couldn’t cross his anymore.
When the presentations were finished, Vanya stood from his throne and stepped off the dais, mingling with the guests in the hall. It was how he always ended court, wanting to put a more personable touch on the proceedings than that of a removed, untouchable ruler. Servants passed by the small groups of people with trays of sweet red wine, the temperature in the room warm from the crowd. The mechanical fans in the corners helped keep the air moving, a soft hum that ran through the drone of conversation.
“I do hope you will take our request under advisement,” the representative from the House of Aetos said. Otto wasn’t of the main House, having been married into a distant branch of the bloodline. His presence was meant to be an insult despite the request for trade easement he came with. Having the Tovanians patrolling the coastline meant certain harbor restrictions that Seaville was apparently not pleased about on the east coast. It didn’t impact trade with E’ridians, but it certainly did with Urovans.
Considering what Vanya knew of that country and its alliance with Daijal, he couldn’t quite feel any sympathy for making it difficult for Urovan submersibles to find port.
“The safety of Solaria is important to me. Keeping our borders secure on land and at sea is integral to our sovereignty,” Vanya said blandly.
Otto’s smile was as sincerely insincere as one could get away with in this crowd. “Of course. The House of Aetos does not disagree with that, but business is important to the economy.”
“The economy is worth nothing if our people are dead. The restrictions you protest are for the good of the country, and they will remain.”
“Of course, Your Imperial Majesty.” A passing servant paused to offer their tray of glasses, the sweet red wine with floating fruit filling each one. Otto reached for two glasses, offering one to Vanya with a sketch of a bow that nearly sloshed the liquid over the rims. “A toast, if you like, to Solaria.”
The polite thing to do would be to acknowledge such loyalty to their country. Vanya took the wineglass, fingers slipping from some of the condensation. He raised it in a silent toast to Otto’s words before taking a sip. Otto slipped away, replaced by yet another person looking to reinforce their earlier petition with a one-on-one chat.
After the second such conversation, Vanya found the heat in the Constellation Hall increasing despite the fans and the cool drink in his hand. The tips of his fingers started to tingle in a way he thought came from gripping the wineglass too tight until they spasmed. The wineglass slipped out of his grip, his attempt to hold on to it getting lost in the prickling hot awareness thatsomething wasn’t right. He didn’t even feel it when the red wine splashed over his white robes before the wineglass shattered on the marble floor.
Poison, he thought as the noise in the Constellation Hall became curiously muffled. He could still breathe, but he wondered for how much longer.
The weakness spread, and he would’ve collapsed if someone didn’t catch him, guiding him down to the floor. A hand framed his face, tipped his head back, and he found himself staring into beloved gray eyes wide with fear. “Vanya!”
He wanted to speak, wanted to say something more than the hurtful words they’d exchanged already that day, but he found his tongue wouldn’t work. Soren looked away from him, talking to someone that Vanya couldn’t see, and the numbing weakness was digging into his bones now with a fiery ache in his joints that made him want to flinch, but that seemed to take so much effort.
Soren took his hand that had held the wineglass and wiped it with a small piece of white paper that came away with streaks of orange-red across it. “He’s been poisoned.”
Vanya would have laughed at that statement becauseof course he had. Cold numbness vied with hot pain as his entire body jerked, heels clattering against the floor. His vision was blurring, and so he couldn’t see what was pressed against his lips, but he felt it.
“Drink,” Soren told him, still sounding so far away.
It felt like the aftermath of that train wreck so long ago that Vanya didn’t question the order. Soren tipped Vanya’s head back, and something bitter flowed over his tongue and down his throat. Vanya still had enough control left to swallow the liquid on his own. He closed his eyes, still breathing, still alive, listening desperately as sound slowly returned to him in increments. Eventually, so did the ability to move, hastened by another dose of whatever antidote Soren had given him.
“Otto,” Vanya croaked out when he thought his tongue could form the syllables.
“Praetorialegionnaires have him in custody. He tried to leave the estate, but they barred him at the gate. It was a contact poison, not one you drank, and you’ve been out of it for a bit.” Cool fingers touched his cheek, shaking ever so slightly, or maybe that was Vanya. “I need you to open your eyes, princeling.”
The endearment cut through Vanya like a knife, causing him to suck in air too quickly, and he found himself coughing horrendously as the muscles in his chest spasmed. An arm curled beneath his shoulders, lifting him up so he wasn’t completely supine. The new angle made it easier to breathe, and Vanya cracked open his eyes.
