del Rue.”
While he talked in a calm, flat tone she flicked open the box and looked in. The shiny pendant inside gleamed back at her, almost mocking. It was the sigil of Hatipai—her greatest mistake. It was a reminder not to fail like that again. Her brother and the Empire were at stake.
“That is a concern,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry,” Merrick replied, and despite everything Zofiya smiled.
“How is that your fault, pray tell? The Empire is under constant attack every day. There is always someone trying to destroy my brother, unbalance the Princes, and cause mayhem.”
“Arkaym was not perhaps what you expected when you came over with your brother.” The Deacon took a step toward her, a rather telling step.
“No, and neither was finding a Deacon as an ally.” Zofiya flicked the onyx box shut with a snap. “I do confess facing another Order like your own is something I didn’t expect. I am not quite sure how to fight back against them.”
Merrick tucked his hands into the sleeves of his rather plain cloak. “I think we should take this to the Mother Abbey in the morning. They may have more knowledge of the Native Order than I am aware of. Unless you think we should try and talk to your brother about this?”
Zofiya pressed her lips together. “I have already tried asking about del Rue, and he tells me nothing. It is as if my voice no longer matters.” It hurt to admit that. She and Kal had been as close as twins when growing up. They’d weathered the storms of their father’s Court in Delmaire together, and she could never have imagined a time when he would take no notice of her counsel. Yet, that time was upon her.
She could not have pinpointed the exact moment when that had changed. It had been gradual, and so subtle that it had snuck up on her. And so had loneliness. She had few friends in Vermillion and none close enough that she could share these fears with. The Court was a cesspit of intrigue and backstabbing. Those that she chatted with daily, even her Imperial Guardsmen, or her body servants, could be working for any number of factions and being paid to bring them information.
When Merrick’s hand touched her shoulder, the Grand Duchess did not flinch away. He rubbed gently, and whispered, “I am sure we can get him back. These rogues cannot have that deep a hold on him that he would forget his sister. Everything will be all right in the end.”
It was such a ridiculous statement that Zofiya should have laughed, and most definitely should have pushed him away for his temerity in daring to touch the Grand Duchess.Those are the things she should have done. Instead, she found herself leaning into his touch. The moments where she allowed herself to feel weakness were few and far between, but something about this earnest young man had already breached her defenses and perhaps, if she was truthful with herself, she had just been waiting for a chance to let him in.
Everyone in Court would have been truly amazed at the next words that came out of her mouth. “Don’t leave.” Her voice was soft, yearning, and utterly alien even to herself.
With the little light in her room Merrick’s eyes were hard to read, but as a Sensitive he had to know what she wanted. They were not a celibate group she knew, and though inviting a Deacon into one’s bed was not forbidden by anyone, it was a little rash. If the gossips in the Court got wind of the Emperor’s sister bedding Merrick Chambers, it would be the talk of the season. Yet, at the particular moment, she didn’t care. She was sick of weighing every move, every person, and considering how it would affect her brother’s Empire. He had taken a little-known aristocrat into his trust after all. It was time she had something for herself too.
Merrick stood silent, a still, dark shape against the faint starlight coming in through the window. “Zofiya, I don’t think it is wise for me to stay. People will get the wrong impression—”
He
While he talked in a calm, flat tone she flicked open the box and looked in. The shiny pendant inside gleamed back at her, almost mocking. It was the sigil of Hatipai—her greatest mistake. It was a reminder not to fail like that again. Her brother and the Empire were at stake.
“That is a concern,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry,” Merrick replied, and despite everything Zofiya smiled.
“How is that your fault, pray tell? The Empire is under constant attack every day. There is always someone trying to destroy my brother, unbalance the Princes, and cause mayhem.”
“Arkaym was not perhaps what you expected when you came over with your brother.” The Deacon took a step toward her, a rather telling step.
“No, and neither was finding a Deacon as an ally.” Zofiya flicked the onyx box shut with a snap. “I do confess facing another Order like your own is something I didn’t expect. I am not quite sure how to fight back against them.”
Merrick tucked his hands into the sleeves of his rather plain cloak. “I think we should take this to the Mother Abbey in the morning. They may have more knowledge of the Native Order than I am aware of. Unless you think we should try and talk to your brother about this?”
Zofiya pressed her lips together. “I have already tried asking about del Rue, and he tells me nothing. It is as if my voice no longer matters.” It hurt to admit that. She and Kal had been as close as twins when growing up. They’d weathered the storms of their father’s Court in Delmaire together, and she could never have imagined a time when he would take no notice of her counsel. Yet, that time was upon her.
She could not have pinpointed the exact moment when that had changed. It had been gradual, and so subtle that it had snuck up on her. And so had loneliness. She had few friends in Vermillion and none close enough that she could share these fears with. The Court was a cesspit of intrigue and backstabbing. Those that she chatted with daily, even her Imperial Guardsmen, or her body servants, could be working for any number of factions and being paid to bring them information.
When Merrick’s hand touched her shoulder, the Grand Duchess did not flinch away. He rubbed gently, and whispered, “I am sure we can get him back. These rogues cannot have that deep a hold on him that he would forget his sister. Everything will be all right in the end.”
It was such a ridiculous statement that Zofiya should have laughed, and most definitely should have pushed him away for his temerity in daring to touch the Grand Duchess.Those are the things she should have done. Instead, she found herself leaning into his touch. The moments where she allowed herself to feel weakness were few and far between, but something about this earnest young man had already breached her defenses and perhaps, if she was truthful with herself, she had just been waiting for a chance to let him in.
Everyone in Court would have been truly amazed at the next words that came out of her mouth. “Don’t leave.” Her voice was soft, yearning, and utterly alien even to herself.
With the little light in her room Merrick’s eyes were hard to read, but as a Sensitive he had to know what she wanted. They were not a celibate group she knew, and though inviting a Deacon into one’s bed was not forbidden by anyone, it was a little rash. If the gossips in the Court got wind of the Emperor’s sister bedding Merrick Chambers, it would be the talk of the season. Yet, at the particular moment, she didn’t care. She was sick of weighing every move, every person, and considering how it would affect her brother’s Empire. He had taken a little-known aristocrat into his trust after all. It was time she had something for herself too.
Merrick stood silent, a still, dark shape against the faint starlight coming in through the window. “Zofiya, I don’t think it is wise for me to stay. People will get the wrong impression—”
He
Similar Books
