And remind me, is Lord Zell married?”
“His wife died in childbirth three months ago, Your Majesty.” Tuvaini thought a moment. The girl. The gods had arranged everything perfectly for him. “The Felt are good breeders. Keep the girl here.” She wouldn’t marry a prince, but surely her father would be almost as pleased to see her with the empire’s richest lord. That would in turn please Arigu. “And Lord Zell will be further indebted, Your Majesty.” Tuvaini ignored
Azeem’s flattery and looked around the bare room—Beyon’s room. “Bring the cushions back, and the tapestries. It feels like a tomb in here.” Everything of Beyon’s felt empty and cold, as if he had just been waiting to die.
Well, tonight his time had come: his pyre would light the dark courtyard.
Tuvaini thought he would enjoy looking down on it from Lapella’s window.
He stood. “Where is Govnan?”
“In the treasury, Your Majesty, examining the texts.” Azeem met his eyes and the message was clear.
Examining my claim, seeing whether the supplicant, the last of a bastard line, has true right to warm the Petal Throne. No matter.
“Then I shall retire.”
Azeem fell into his obeisance. For a moment Tuvaini almost looked over his shoulder for Beyon or Tahal, for the emperor, but instead he walked from the dais and towards the doors. Everyone hugged the floor at his approach except for the blue-hatted guards at the door. They stood to attention, ready to follow him wherever he meant to go. Their eyes betrayed worry and sorrow. While not many had cared for Beyon, it had been said his soldiers loved him. Tuvaini had never seen that until now. He passed them without comment.
He walked, lost in thought, following long habit to Lapella’s quarters.
Zell had been the obvious lord to invite first, but things would be more difficult from now on. He would consult Donato in the morning about
trade in the provinces. Whom he invited, how, and in what order would affect his plans for the city markets.
He passed the fountain and remembered Eyul’s fight with the Carriers.
How simple the man was. Tuvaini rubbed his tired eyes. He must reward the assassin and see to the finishing of Beyon’s tomb, empty though it would be. Work would be stopped by bureaucrats as a matter of course because of the succession. The wheels of empire, powered by the slaves of pen and scale, were designed to turn with little guidance, but Tuvaini would guide the wheels in this. The common folk must not know the Carriers had struck so deeply into the empire. It was important to renew work on the tomb, to make it great for the city’s unknowing eyes.
The familiar sight of Lapella’s door drew him back from his worries. Tuvaini wondered if she slept, and how long she waited for him every night before surrendering to dreams. He turned the handle as the guards took up position in the hallway. They must wonder what business he had in the servants’ quarters. Let them wonder. He smiled to himself, picturing her reaction when he told her that he sat on the Petal Throne at last. Tuvaini stepped into the night of Lapella’s room. A single wide candle burned on the windowsill, its flame nearly drowned by melting wax. He crossed the dark space and lifted it, his gaze drawn downwards to where Beyon’s pyre should be. The courtyard swam in darkness. “Lapella.” His whisper sank into the unseen edges of the room, unanswered. In her mirror’s dim glass he saw the gleam of the light in his hand, and how it lit the curve of his palm and the line of his jaw. He stared into the black spaces of his reflection and shivered. It was a cold desert night.
“Lapella?”
A dark pool yawned before him: Lapella’s bed. He took a step forwards and a twisted shadow flickered against the wall, a crouching demon. He drew back, crying, “Lapella!”
The room kept its silence. Tuvaini took a breath and listened to the distant sounds of the city. Foolishness, he thought and moved to the bed. She faced away from him, her dark hair spread out across her pillow. His relief escaped in a short laugh as he reached for her shoulder. “La—” No. She lay arched backwards, her elbow twisting down into the mattress, one leg folded beneath her and the other sprawled off the side of the bed. Tuvaini opened his mouth and made a croaking noise. He ran his fingers through her hair, thick and soft as