Invisibility was tiring. Imogene, having endured close to a week of it already, was growing thoroughly sick of the whole thing. She'd taken the lectures on her stupidity, she'd taken being temporarily removed from any duty other than her continuing lessons with Ikarus and being ordered to stay in the barracks the rest of the time, and she'd taken the not-so-subtle avoidance of her classmates who only now spoke to her if it was part of one of the lessons, as though they were worried that screwing up might be contagious.
The army, apparently, had decided that the best place for her was out of sight. Colonel Ferritine had given her a lecture on responsibilities that made her ears ring. But he'd followed it up with more gentle advice to just wait for things to pass.
Which she was doing. For the second time. The first time, after the mission to Andalyssia, her disgrace hadn't been her fault. This time, it was. That didn't make it any easier to bear. She wondered if it had been the sheer boredom of being punished that had led Alexei Berain to resign after Andalyssia.
She could take that option. Give up her commission. Go and work with her father. Build a different life. Ikarus would be useful to her as an ingenier, too. They couldn't take him away from her, at least, though she was under strict orders to keep him under control. Which was unfair. He had done precisely as she had asked in the ballroom and then stopped and left as soon as she had asked again. Her control over her sanctii was fine. It was her control over herself that was the issue.
Jean-Paul, too, it seemed, had taken her at her word. He hadn't contacted her. Which left her in the increasingly irritating position of being annoyed by getting exactly what she'd asked for. She would have to make the first move. Which she might do if she was surer that he hadn't just wiped his hands of her entirely, thanking the goddess for a lucky escape from a bad choice.
Even if she hadn't been full of doubt, she hadn't been given permission to leave the palace grounds.
So she was dutifully making her way back from the training halls to her quarters once more, thinking of dinner in her room and more study before she slept, when she passed the gate to one of the palace gardens. One that was technically not off-limits to anyone living within the palace’s boundaries. And technically still on the way back to the barracks.
Surely no one would begrudge her a few minutes’ peace admiring some flowers and drinking in the afternoon sunshine before she returned to her punishment? If they did, they could hardly make things worse unless they did decide to kick her out. She'd never heard of anyone being cashiered over flowers, though. So she grasped the gate and pushed it open.
She was admiring a bank of bright pink roses when a voice from behind her said, "Lieutenant Carvelle?"
A female voice. One she recognized. Heart sinking, she turned and saw her suspicions confirmed. She sank into a curtsy at Empress Liane's feet, cursing her luck in her head. The empress was the last person—except perhaps the emperor himself—she wanted to see.
"Get up. It's too hot for that," Liane said. She fanned herself with one hand. "Don't have babies in summer, Lieutenant. I've done it twice. Learn from my errors."
"Do you need to sit, Your Imperial Highness?" Imogene asked, alarmed. Bad enough that she had run into the empress—an encounter that would no doubt bring her more lectures if anyone from the barracks saw them—but it would be worse still were she to have some sort of complication to her pregnancy with Imogene in her presence.
Liane grimaced, still fanning. "I've been sitting half the day. I wanted to stretch my legs."
"Where are your guards?" Imogene scanned the garden. The empress was alone. Not so much as a lady-in-waiting accompanying her. That had to be rare.
"I told them to leave me alone. I'm sure there are half a dozen sanctii nearby"—Liane waved a hand at the air irritably—"but apparently I was fierce enough to chase everyone else out of eyesight. Rank is useful sometimes. And rank plus pregnancy is also useful. Remember that, too." She rubbed the pale blue silk of her dress where it stretched over her belly.
"I will leave you alone," Imogene said, taking a step backward. The empress had private gardens she could walk in, of course. But if she wanted this one, well, Imogene might be willing to risk the wrath of her commanding officer but not her empress.
"No, stay. I keep asking Aristides about you. To make sure you were being treated fairly. So far the only answer I get is 'it's an army matter.'" She shook her head. "Men. They are irritating when they get pedantic about stupid rules." She linked an arm through Imogene's. "Walk with me. And tell me they haven't been too hard on you."
"I'm fine, Your Imperial Highness. I did break the rules, after all. I can take my punishment."
"You acted to protect my husband and myself," the empress retorted. "I would prefer to see such behavior encouraged in the court. But I will not interfere if you prefer to play by their rules." Bright green eyes twinkled at her. "But if they grow tiresome, you are welcome to let me know."
Imogene imagined how well that would go down with Colonel Ferritine. Having strings pulled in her favor would probably ensure she got sent to the dullest post in Illvya for a year. If not two.
"I am fine, Your Imperial Highness" she repeated. "Let's admire the flowers."