9

Sebastian and his mother were given adjoining suites to stay the night in the palace. Each room was spacious, with a four-poster bed, a wardrobe, and a fine birchwood writing desk.

“It will certainly be nice not to have to sleep on one of those dreadful, straw-filled mattresses at the roadside inns, won’t it?” his mother said once the soldier who had escorted them left. She stood with hands clasped and gazed at the room with satisfaction.

“I suppose.” Sebastian tried to get a sense of how she felt about their larger situation but, as usual, was unable to discern anything. “Mother, what should we do?”

She turned to him, a look of bemusement on her face. “Do?”

“Are we under arrest? Should we expect some sort of trial and punishment? Am I still a captain? Was I ever truly one?”

She nodded thoughtfully as she brushed his blond hair behind his ears. “I see. You’re uneasy about having so many unknowns regarding our current situation.”

“Well yes.”

“I understand, my darling. And I wish I could assure you that everything will be all right, but in truth I have no idea. Nor do I have an answer to any of your questions.”

“Then how can you be so calm about all this?”

“I only appear that way, darling, because I am not in the habit of showing vulnerability in the company of strangers. And really, there is no point in fretting about any of it, because there is nothing we can do about any of it. In many ways, we are back to the same predicament as the night your father was killed. It is clear the empress has designs for you. Simply be your sweet and earnest self, do as she says, and I suspect we will both live.” She gave the room another appreciative glance. “And live well, by the look of it. I was sad to leave Izmoroz, of course, but I think I could be quite content with palace life. Now, if you will excuse me, I believe the guard mentioned something about a lady’s bath.”

“Yes, Mother. I suppose good night, then.”

“Good night, my dearest.” She walked as confidently and regally as ever as she made her way down the unfamiliar hallway in the direction the guard had indicated.

Sebastian went to his own room, where he found a small wash basin filled with water. Just as he finished freshening up, a servant in a beige tunic brought a platter of roast lamb and apples, and so he ate, chewing silently as his eyes roamed the room.

Once he’d eaten, Sebastian couldn’t make up his mind whether to try exploring the palace or napping. He was concerned about getting lost in the massive palace, yet found his nerves too taut for sleep.

He found a book on the desk written by the famous Aureumian explorer, Lucio Gregori. It was about his adventures sailing on the Ocean of Loss, which lay off the western coast of Aureum. The account was well told and took Sebastian’s mind off his current predicament for a little while. At least until he came to one passage:

As we sailed south along the coast, I asked the captain how well he knew these waters. He chuckled and said, “As well as any man can know such a thing. Which is to say, hardly at all.”

At first I was perplexed, and even alarmed by his response. Had I entrusted our voyage to someone who was ignorant of our route? But the more I pondered it, the better I understood. We think we know this land, our bounteous Aureum. But like the great ocean, now and then we witness an effect, a ripple of some kind, that reminds us that much goes unseen beneath the surface of what we know. There is so much life and death, joy and suffering, that we do not—perhaps cannot—truly comprehend. And I am forced to ask myself: Am I truly exploring, or am I merely drifting, unaware of the real world that lies beneath?

The vague, unnamable dread of that passage struck at Sebastian’s heart with such intensity that he was forced to put the book down and stare up at the canopy above his bed for some time. It was exactly as he felt in that moment. Adrift on the surface of a world he could scarcely comprehend, except to know how little he understood.

Everything Vittorio had told him was now suspect. Therefore every action Sebastian had taken because of those words was also suspect. He was forced to review these last months and ask himself, again and again, had he done the right thing? When they’d first arrived at Magna Alto, he had been worried about receiving punishment. Now he wondered if perhaps he deserved it.

There was a light tap at his door. Sebastian splashed some water on his face, hoping it might snap him out of his gloomy reverie. But it only managed to make him more alert, and therefore, more anxious.

He opened the door. “Yes?”

A young woman in a neat gray gown stood on the other side. “Captain Portinari?”

“Hopefully,” he said.

She gave him an odd look.

“Sorry. Yes, that’s me.”

“Her Majesty requests an immediate audience with you in her chambers. Please follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, the woman turned and walked down the hall.

Sebastian quickly snatched up his jacket, then hurried after her, buttoning it as he went.

“Do you know what she wishes to speak to me about?”

“She did not confide that information to me, Captain.”

Her tone was polite, but disinterested. Sebastian got the distinct impression that further questions would yield similar results, so he remained silent for the rest of the walk through the labyrinthine hallways of the palace.

At last they arrived before a thick oak door with the figure of a falcon carved in bas-relief. Two of the gold-armored honor guard were stationed before it, their eyes steely and grim. But the woman did not seem the least bit daunted.

“Captain Portinari to see Her Majesty, as requested,” she told them.

One of the guards nodded, then knocked on the door.

“Come in.” The empress’s smoky voice filtered in from the room.

The guard opened the door and gestured for the woman and Sebastian to enter.

The empress’s chambers were naturally much larger than his, composed of multiple rooms. The center of the main room was taken up with a narrow table surrounded by a sofa and several plush chairs, all upholstered in silk.

The empress was off to one side at a sprawling desk, quill in hand, and a pile of parchment before her. She looked up from her work and gave Sebastian the same playful smile he’d seen in the throne room.

“There you are, Captain Portinari. Thank you for coming so late in the day.”

Sebastian dropped to one knee and bowed his head just as he’d done in the throne room. “It is an honor, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, yes, there’s no need to go into all that when it’s just the two of us in my own chambers.” The empress put away her quill and gathered the pile of parchment into a neat stack. “Abriana, you may go.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The woman turned and left, the guard closed the door, and Sebastian was indeed alone with the empress in her chambers. He recalled what his mother had said earlier. Do everything the empress said, and they would get to live. Probably.

She eyed him still kneeling on her rug. “Dear heavens, Sebastian, do get up off the floor.”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” Sebastian stood up, feeling light-headed for a moment. He reached one hand to the arm of the sofa to steady himself.

The empress stood up from her desk. She wore only a long silk dressing gown belted at the waist with a sash.

“You must excuse my informality, Sebastian.” She made her way over to one of the large upholstered chairs. “There’s only so much pomp I can stand in a day.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“And please don’t hover.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty!” He sat down on the sofa across from her.

She leaned back in her chair and gazed thoughtfully at him a moment. He sat up straight, knees together. He had no idea what else to do with his hands, so he placed them awkwardly on his thighs.

“Hmm.”

She leaned forward, took a decanter of red wine from the table, and poured herself a glass. Then she leaned back again, crossed her legs, and continued to gaze at him as she took a sip.

Finally she said, “Savitri told me you were the nervous type.”

“Sorry, Your Majesty?”

She smiled slightly, as if enjoying his discomfiture. “General Zaniolo. He’s given me his full report on what transpired in Izmoroz.”

“I… see, Your Majesty.”

Would Sebastian and his mother’s fate come down to whether Zaniolo had given him a favorable report? And while he thought Zaniolo liked him, could he really say that for certain? In fact, he had never truly felt like he could tell what the sly general was thinking. And if the general were to lie, or even merely highlight what might very well have been legitimate mistakes, could Sebastian hope to defend himself? Was there, in the end, even a defense for his actions?

“I’m sorry to hear about your betrothal,” the empress said. “Sounds like a nasty bit of business.”

That was not one of the topics he had expected Zaniolo to cover. “Th-thank you, Your Majesty. Yes, it was.”

She sighed and swirled the wine around in her goblet. “I’m afraid you’ll find that the more power one possesses, the less one can trust the true motives of one’s companions, particularly when it is of a romantic nature.”

Sebastian wanted to ask her if she’d had her heart similarly broken, but feared the question might be too personal.

“Speaking of power,” she continued, “show me that outrageously expensive diamond that Franko purchased on behalf of the empire without my permission.”

“Y-Your Majesty, I had no idea—”

She only needed to raise a finger for him to immediately stop talking and take out the diamond, which he habitually kept on a leather thong around his neck. He untied it from his neck and handed it to her.

She dangled it by the strap so that it twisted lazily, glittering in the lamplight, while she took another sip of wine and admired it.

“Well, I can see now why it was so expensive. I don’t think I’ve ever known its like,” she said. “And I trust it was effective in application?”

“Very much so, Your Majesty.”

At times, too much so, he thought. Even though it had been an accident, the fate of Les still haunted him. In fact, the darkness of those memories only seemed to grow more intense and suffocating with the passage of time. It had gotten so uncomfortable that he avoided thinking about it as much as possible.

“Hmm,” the empress said again.

She continued to watch the gem twist as she drank more wine. Sebastian could not even pretend to guess at what her thoughts might be. She didn’t seem angry with him. But he had learned with painful slowness that, unlike him, some people were capable of hiding their true feelings quite well.

Finally, she said, “Tell me, Sebastian, were you happy under Franko’s command?”

“I’m… not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.”

“Come now. He’s no longer your superior officer, so you don’t need to worry about that. And he hasn’t been executed yet, so you don’t have to worry about speaking ill of the dead, either. Be candid with me. Were you satisfied with what he had you doing?”

Sebastian had no idea what the correct response was. His only clue was what his mother had told him. Do what the empress said. And the empress had told him to be candid.

“I confess I felt… troubled with the direction in which he pushed me to use my magic.”

“Oh?” She leaned forward, looking interested.

“It’s not that I… well, I understand that the military application of magic is important. But when I first received this gem, I had envisioned…” He wanted to talk about his beautiful ice bridge, but he recalled how the commander had shamed him for having such naive goals.

“Go on.” It was a command, gentle but firm.

He took a deep breath and continued. “I’d hoped to do profound good in this world, like Stephano Defilippo. I wanted to create, rather than destroy. Given some time and the right materials, I know I could learn how to rebuild whole towns in a day. Not…” He swallowed. “Not level them.”

“Ah.” She leaned back, looking strangely satisfied. “Zaniolo told me you accidentally demolished a town in Izmoroz and he suspected you might harbor some guilt about that. You acted in a moment of pique, no doubt agitated by your sister, who I hear is shockingly belligerent. Losing one’s temper at your age, particularly toward a sibling, is hardly unusual. But for someone with your abilities, the consequences are far more dire.”

He stared at the empress, unable to fathom how she could assess and understand so much so quickly, and with such empathy.

She smiled. “Do you think I have never lost my temper? And believe me, the power I wield can destroy far more than a single town.”

“I had not considered—”

“Of course not, Sebastian.” She leaned forward and pressed her hand to his cheek in an unexpected display of affection. “And thank you for being so honest with me. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

He felt his cheeks beginning to flush. “I—I—I… thank you.”

She continued to hold her palm to his cheek for a moment, rubbing her thumb up and down on his temple. Then she leaned back in her chair and smirked. “You forgot to say Your Majesty.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty! I—”

She cut him off again with the wave of her hand. “What you’ve told me will be very helpful in deciding what your next assignment should be.”

“My next assignment, Your Majesty?”

“Naturally, such a bright young talent like yours cannot be squandered. But I want to find something more suitable for you. Clearly hunting rebel insurgents doesn’t play to your strengths.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Your Majesty.”

“We all have our weaknesses.” She smirked at him again. “Except me, of course.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said quickly, and possibly meant it as well.

Her smile faded and she sat up in her chair. “Now I know this will be difficult for you, Sebastian, since he is your former mentor. But I would ask that you attend the execution of Franko Vittorio tomorrow at sunrise. I think it will help you put this whole sordid affair to rest so that you can look toward the future. Our future. The empire is in great need, and I believe you can do much good.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To do some good.”

She nodded. “That is what I like to hear. Now, why don’t you go get some sleep.”