Responsibility Ch. 26

It was another Imperial Court meeting.

The dangling, wing sleeves that hung over the Emperor's arms were a dark purple. Gold, silver, pale blue, and pale green embroidery seemed to creep up from the sleeves' hems. The threads formed loosely arranged images of diamond and circular outlines, looping and clinging vines and leaves, and little medallions. The hand that peeked out from under the sleeve had heavily ringed fingers and a sword's handle in its grip.

A flat edge of the sword was first laid on one man's shoulder, then another.

Their names were said. Robi and Kolos.

They were pardoned for all their crimes against Yahsin, and they were given new positions as minor advisers to the Emperor. Their places would be at the Imperial Castle, nearly constant fixtures of the court.

Rahela tried to find hatred in her heart for the somber, yet sprightly men that knelt before the Emperor and swore their loyalty to him before everyone. Even as her formal expression remained, even as her body held firm, she searched for her negative feelings.

Oddly, she found little to none.

Later in the meeting, she saw the excitable and talkative Robi impatiently whisper to his companion whenever he could do so without a complaint. She noted the collected Kolos, the blond that had apparently seduced his way into a success for Yahsin against Tashkila, would often react with a cringe or bulging eyes but then he would smile as if he truly enjoyed whatever he'd heard. Rahela imagined he was the sort of person that loved to be teased but wouldn't admit it.

She took in Robi's eager, sometimes trembling form as he looked this way and that, his eyes thoughtful but playful. He might've been trying to think of something, planning, plotting. There was such a peculiar, childlike innocence that Rahela couldn't assume he was wanting to betray the Emperor. She assumed he might've been thinking of a creative or at least strange way to kill some random target. After all, the methods they'd used to kill her before had all been convoluted but interesting.

These men would indeed be good advisers, at least when it came to secret murders and other similar intrigues. After all, who better to ask about how to outsmart a murderer than another murderer?

***

Rahela was no longer in her elaborate court clothing. She was in her chemise with her hair all around herself, sitting upright in her bed. The curtains were closed, darkening her little world. Rahela heard the female physician walk off, the chambermaids whisper, Gabi hopefully sighing, and Yana and Oksana gossiping more blatantly. Ammas wasn't in the room, but he'd appear once he was summoned.

Floating dots of barely potent light almost desperately tried to pierce through the curtains. Rahela sighed and pulled her knees up under her blanket. Her arms wrapped around those knees and she rested her cheek there. She heard a door open and close. Then footsteps, and the Emperor's voice tumbled out as if he genuinely felt a bit of fear for once in his life, fear that his voice might cause some devastating problem.

"Is she in bed?"

Oksana's voice fluttered out. "She awaits you there, Your Majesty."

A disturbing sensation danced along Rahela's spine as the footsteps moved closer. Then the curtains were parted, allowing more firelight inside. A fully dressed version of the Emperor climbed into the space, letting the curtains fall closed behind himself.

The mattress jostled. Rahela bounced a little. The man settled down beside her, pulling the blanket in a way so he wasn't putting any force on her body. Then, as he looked ahead, bending a knee up, he said something to her.

"I want to call this feeling in my heart a blessed euphoria." He was calm.

Rahela turned her face away from him.

"I should be bucking and howling as a wild animal might," the Emperor said, "but although I'm certainly pleased, instead of excitement I feel peace."

Peace? Is that all? Rahela closed her eyes and wondered if she felt relieved or not. Would it have been better if he'd turned manic on her?

"You should be happy, Little Empress, happier than I am. There's a child in your womb."

Rahela opened her eyes and quietly told him, "It's the highest honor I've received yet."

His arm moved over to wrap about her shoulders, and he pulled her close to his body. "Have you still been feeling unwell?"

"Not always," Rahela practically exhaled into his tunic. "Some days are calmer than others."

The Emperor's voice hushed down to a true whisper. "I'm curious, Little Bacon. What if a certain rumor burned, a claim that although I show you the kindest affections, the truth would be that I secretly want you dead?"

"What could Your Majesty gain from that?" Rahela asked with an equal whisper.

"It doesn't matter what I could gain," the man said. "What matters is that someone could believe it."

What a thought!

The morning after that exchange, Rahela was dressed and her whole retinue was summoned. She, His Majesty, and His Majesty's little retinue all went off to the Empress Dowager's bedchamber, soon after breakfast had been eaten.

The Emperor announced it with understandable enthusiasm, or that's what Rahela would've called it. Broad gestures. Broader grins. The Emperor Dowager rose from her place at her vanity area and put a hand to one of the necklaces she wore. Broad eyes. Loosened lips. Hopes that were both broad and loose. Rahela saw all those in the older woman. Her shoulders drooped, but clearly not in a saddened way, only in a stunned way. She even gripped the back of her chair for support.

Her voice was much more delicate than it normally was.

"Dear ... the gods are smiling upon us again." Her mouth perked up as if she wanted to snort and smirk. She turned her head and looked down at the calm Rahela, and she said, "Treasure that child, you funny squirrel. It's the most advantageous life you've ever encountered."

Rahela nodded to her, but otherwise she didn't give a reaction. She listened to His Majesty boast in the least graphic ways about how excited he was and how wonderful everything was. An heir was coming! It must be protected and coddled!

He'd hire two extra bodyguards for Rahela, one male and one female. Both would answer to Ammas, who has obvious seniority. Rahela's diet would be monitored, as would her health in general.

She'd have the finest foods, of course, but only the healthiest finest foods, and her alcohol intake would be severely decreased. A single glass of red wine once a day would be the most given to her. The mildest soaps would be ordered so that no fragrances nor irritants could bother the pregnant woman's uneven senses. Regular, preventative medicines would be handed to her, and physicians would see to her often.

And gifts, of course there would be gifts.

All this was said while Rahela was like a breathing statue, almost the same as the cold statue in the garden that had been modeled after her.

At one point, the Empress Dowager released her chair's back and stepped towards her son. She took one of his hands and nodded with a very soft smile. "We shouldn't make an announcement to the court, but we certainly could have a celebration." One of her shoulders jerked up and her nose wiggled. "Let the guests make assumptions instead of naming the cause."

Nodding, his own nose also wiggling, the Emperor said, "I'll trust you to it. However," here, he turned back to look over and down his shoulder at Rahela, who was still the most darling little statue in the room, "my wife must be kept from indulging herself. She'll only have water and fruit juices with her food, but perhaps before the great feast she may be given a glass of the richest and finest wine."

Rahela didn't even nod in agreement. She accepted all this information with no complaint. It was all for her own sake, the sake of her child, and the sake of the Empire. She had no right to complain, not that she particularly wanted to complain.

More congratulations were given by the Empress Dowager, and then the couple and their retinues went off to Princess Tuya's bedchamber. It was very quiet in there, almost still. Even the cleaning chambermaids seemed more hushed. Rahela didn't fully understand the tension in the air, but she thought it might be related to the princess' obvious depression.

Princess Tuya was dressed, but not very well. She had on a worn, fraying, and thin looking set of clothing, aside from the cloak around her shoulders. She sat by a brazier of burning charcoal and grimly started out a window as if she was impatiently waiting on someone or something and each passing minute bothered her even more. When Rahela was close enough, she noticed a few fresh stains on her lap and plackard, likely from her breakfast.

In Princess Tuya's lands, on that spotty lap, there were a pair of knitting needles and a tangled mass of yarn. No movement. Still fingers. The Emperor approached. As if he didn't notice, or even care, that his sister was in such a low mood, he told her the grand news. All the while, he grinned and held onto his upright posture.

Princess Tuya didn't seem to absorb the information at first. She blinked. Her lips remained soft and her eyes were like stones coated in frost. Even the gold color seemed to have dulled. Uncomfortably quiet seconds went on. Rahela heard her little sister cough. Then, once Rahela was certain that the moments were too unbearable, Princess's almost dead eyes pointed down to her clear failure of a knitting project, and she spoke with tight but soft little words.

"She must care for herself. She can't go on as she does now."

An eyebrow raising, a hand on his hip, the Emperor asked her, "What do you mean?"

With a tender little sigh, Princess Tuya said, "Her Majesty collects and studies poisons. What if exposure to such materials damages the child? What if she looks too closely and quickly poisons herself?"

His hand moving from his hip up to his chin, His Majesty made a thoughtful hum of a noise. His eyes turned away from the princess as he seemed to consider her words.

A quick moment, and he was looking back down at her, that hand returning to his hip. "Acceptable. An acceptable argument. We'll craft a method for her to indulge her studies while keeping her distance from all poisons. Do you have any other suggestions?"

A gentle little flicker of something almost not miserable showed in Princess Tuya's eyes, but it was quickly smothered. One of her fingertips tapped and tugged at a loop of yarn as she said, "Horseback riding is fine exercise, but I worry that she could fall and have a miscarriage. Far too devastating."

Her hand rising to cover her lips, Rahela turned her face away and wondered if she'd have to avoid her most beloved hobbies for her entire pregnancy. How cruel!

Yet, she supposed she couldn't find a fault in the logic. Her child was the most important piece in this game, and her life was indeed a game, a game that was highly complex and heavy with high stakes. A second later, she dug her nerves back up and again looked at the exchange.

Reaching up to slide a lock of escaped hair behind his ear, the Emperor only slightly tilted his head to one side and happily told his sister, "For now, I won't fret over the idea. The pregnancy is still new. The child hasn't formed enough to be in such danger. Once her belly has swelled, she'll be properly restricted."

With a light exhale, frowning a bit more, Princess Tuya said, "I might sleep easier knowing you care for her so well, but a shaving of concern still bakes deep in my belly. I can only hope that nothing will endanger your strongest chance at having a reliable heir."

Putting his palm over his heart, bending down a bit, although clearly not showing any deference, the Emperor said, "I'm grateful to have such a loyal and caring family. A ruler's family is a representation of the Empire's power, and I believe we have more glorious days ahead of us."

Rahela wanted to look away again.

***

The Emperor was planning on leaving again. He wanted to go before snow came, but everyone knew that snow would start as he traveled. More conquering. More victory, or that was assumed to be the future.

Rahela didn't feel particularly ill, not even bloated, as she rode through the bitter forest, her retinue around her. The Emperor and his smaller retinue were also there.

It was another cold excursion where the Emperor would tell story after story. They were almost fascinating. Rahela believed she would've been more more intrigued if she hadn't been translating for Gabi.

Soon, though, His Majesty announced he needed to discuss secret and special matters with his wife. Rahela gave a submissive nod and told her retinue, including even Ammas, to remain behind with Borys and the little page named Zorig.

Rahela vaguely wondered if the Emperor wanted to try to make a tent structure for them, as he'd done many months ago. If so, she thought she might have to take better care of her appearance in the end. No need to show up to everyone with a crooked or bent headdress, not even a partially undone set of laces.

Off at a tiny clearing, Rahela dismounted her favorite mule and gave her a carrot. His Majesty did something similar, although he gave his steed a heaping palm's worth of raisins. Then he took a familiar bundle of supplies from his steed's side and opened it up on the ground like it was a blanket. Indeed, there were all the pieces he needed to build something like a tent, perhaps even a full tent. Rahela watched while giving her darling Ureche soft compliments.

The result was a true and quite big tent, although not particularly fancy. Rahela gave the Emperor a compliment, which might've been a change of pace, given the circumstances. "Ah, Your Majesty. It's a cleverly arranged piece. I could never do as you've done, not without some mistakes."

At that point, the Emperor had risen from a kneeling position. Brushing some dirt, leaves, and other things off of his tunic, he almost distractedly said, "You'd learn the process with enough time." He reached down to check that the entrance flap was secure. Then he made it insecure by untying and opening it wide. "Tether the horse and mule to that branch behind you," he said.

Why not? They had ropes. Rahela obeyed with no quarrel. She made sure the two creatures were comfortably restrained and that they had no issue with being kept together. When Rahela saw the Emperor's steed move in to groom a bit of Ureche's coat with his teeth, she knew everything was peaceful between them.

Once her eyes were back to the tent, the Emperor wasn't outside. However, she did see his large hand wave out from the tent's entrance. Not even shrugging, Rahela tightened her grip on her cloak and gingerly stepped over to the tent. Then she carefully bent down and crawled inside.

There was just enough room left for her, only just. His Majesty was such a grand example of a human. He was sitting on his haunches. His palm were on the cloth lining on the cold ground. Rahela sat down in a similar way beside him. Then she pulled both her plaits behind herself, where they dragged down.

A familiar scene played. The Emperor put an arm around her shoulders, over her hair. With his free arm he dug into a pouch of his and pulled out a wrapped package, which turned out to be fish in a block of gelatin with a few other edible things.

Rahela took the snack with a quiet little thank you. Then she sunk her teeth quite some distance down the block. If she'd been a talkative sort, the food would've kept her quiet, but she was already a very quiet sort. The Emperor hadn't needed to hand her any food. He went on speaking with what was likely the same amount of interruptions he'd have if Rahela didn't have her snack.

"Once I've returned, I might have to use you."

Nodding, Rahela said she'd do whatever was required to protect him and the Empire. Then, as she took another bite of her gelatin and fish, she listened to the man's pensive little hums and tapping of his fingertips on her shoulder. It was another quiet time until he broke it.

"I've forgotten the pillows again."

Rahela's jaw paused as she considered the meaning. He hadn't brought any pillows the last time he essentially made a tent in the woods for them to sit in. Perhaps last time he'd wanted some? Perhaps he was actually criticizing himself? Aloud? How rare and new!

Her jaw moved again. Then she swallowed. From a hanging pouch of hers, she fished out a little flask of water.

"I know you must be in a much better condition now," the Emperor said with a very expectant tone.

That prompted Rahela to swish some water around her mouth before swallowing. She wasn't in a position to spit anything out.

No permission at all. He flippantly took her partially bitten snack out of her grasp and removed his arm from her shoulders. Rahela watched him neatly fold the waxed linen back around the food and lay it down on the lining they sat on. He hadn't even wanted her to finish it.

Rahela barely had time to close and hide away her flask before her cheeks had a pair of broad palms covering them. Her face was pulled up, and her body had to go with it. She didn't want to see his hungry eyes. She closed hers, and she didn't have any lustful thoughts. Instead, as the hot set of lips sunk into hers, as her fingers lightly curled into the warm clothes, she thought about ... well ...

What it was like for him to be gone.

And what it would be like for him to be gone while she was pregnant.

There was security while he was around. He was her supporter in this cruel world.

Now she was more vulnerable than she could ever remember. She didn't even know where the next assault would come from, and there would be another. There would always be another. As long as she lived as the Empress Consort of Yahsin, as long as she had any position of any significance in this world. Possibly as long as she was alive.

There was no such thing as permanent security. Her loathsome husband held the keys to what little security there was.

And he was going to leave her alone again.

His bent nose brushed against hers right when she made a little sniff. She hadn't wanted to. It was almost a reflex, a reaction to her own buried misery, an involuntary attempt at keeping her body from expressing anything more than a sniff.

But, as horrifying as it was, Rahela actually did more than sniff. She trembled.

She had enough time to hope that the man would assume she was being wanton and needy for him before she was partially distracted by his other hand. It slid the smooth tops of the fingernails down her face as it moved away. Then it claimed one of her plaits. She trembled again, and it was most certainly not because of his current actions.

He released her hair as quickly as he'd taken it. Then his hand brushed down her arm and to her thigh, where it gathered up a good portion of her skirts. Ah, there it was. He was pulling her skirts up, better access. Very well. Rahela even moved to untie her cloak so it could pool around herself. She didn't think it mattered how cold it was.

He yanked his own tunic's skirts up too, and then he took a kneeling position, which might not have been very kind to his knees. There weren't any cushions around. He even untied the drawstring in his braies and shoved that garment down too. Rahela barely recognized that her hands were mimicking him.

Her braies, which she'd usually wear in this sort of cold weather, were quietly rushed down. She even pulled a leg up to free an ankle, leaving the rest of the fabric to remain on the other leg.

A needy growl burst out from the man. Rahela jolted and coughed out a nearly frightened noise. She even put a hand at her heart, but that didn't last long. The man's great hands took her waist, and he planted her right on his lap, where his erection was already peeking out as if it wanted to ask a question. Although Rahela had no desire for it, her hips were soon taken and rocked by those hands. Their thighs scraped against each other, harsh skin against much softer, although she knew his thighs were some of his milder parts.