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."
