“You needed a moment to regroup.”
When I only glowered, he continued. “In a pitched battle, even the best soldiers can lose perspective. They can get rattled, making emotional decisions instead of calculated ones. Taking a moment to regroup can tip that balance back.”
Rattled. Struggling to regain the upper hand in the conversation—wondering how the hell I’d lost it—I reached for my usual icy reserve. “I am not one of your soldiers.”
Tipping his head, he smiled slightly. “Fair enough.” He nodded at the letter, all business again. “What does the Imperial Toad have to say?”
I snatched up the envelope, using the movement to adjust my bosom and make sure my dress covered me as intended, then flicked my nails to undo the intricate folds of the missive. It unfurled in my hands like a carnivorous blossom, but one gone gray from rot. Oddly enough, I felt better able to face it now. Which I would not give Con the satisfaction of admitting. I read aloud.
Darling Wilted Flower of My Wounded Heart,
Oh, My rosebud—or should I call you a crushed blossom? Used up, soiled, chewed, and devoured by the worst of dogs. I can only hope you suffer for betraying your vows, and with the one you promised to capture for Me, a traitor who dares call Me an upstart emperor of a false empire.
I feel confident you have many regrets, given that cur you married, and in a whore’s gown. You’ll never cleanse yourself of his taint, of your own guilt and perfidy, and Yilkay will never welcome you into the afterlife. On the bright side, you won’t face the goddess’s judgment for many years to come, because once I lay my hands on you—and that will be sooner than you think, My ruined former fiancée—I’ll keep you alive and remind you hourly of how you hurt Me.
I’ll purge you of your false loyalties by scouring your precious Calanthe until only bare rock remains. Then will you come back to live with Me, and you will give me what is Mine. Sooner than you think.
You could have been an empress. Instead you’ll be skinned and shredded, then fed alive to my dogs.
All My fury,
His Imperial Majesty
Proud of myself for making it all the way through the vicious words without pause or my voice quavering in the least, I cast the thing aside. It lay there on the colorful silk pillows of the bench, fluttering in the sea breeze. If I’d had a dagger on me, I might’ve impaled the paper with it.
Con had begun idly pacing as I read and now stood, his back to me, hands folded behind him as he stared out at the sea. “He meant to frighten you,” he said at last.
“Oh, do you think so?” I replied with hair-curling sarcasm.
He turned at last and looked at me, a different expression on his face than I’d expected. Not pity for my weakness, but a kind of compassionate respect. “Yes,” he said simply. “More, I think he succeeded. There’s no shame in being afraid, Lia.”
I took a breath to retort, reaching for my pride and anger to shore up my shell of reserve. But his grave concern undid me, and I hiccuped instead. To my horror—and, yes, shame at my weakness—a small sob wrenched out of me.
“Here now.” In a few strides, he had his arms around me again, pulling me close against him. Nothing sexual in it this time, no teasing, only comfort. And so help me, I clung to that solid strength as if he could save me. I wouldn’t weep—my heart had long ago frozen too solid to allow for tears—but the emotions tore at me with claws of grief and rage and … fear. I was so afraid. And a queen couldn’t afford fear.
“You’re not alone, Lia. Everything will be all right,” Con murmured. “I won’t let any of that happen.”
“This is your fault,” I managed to say while clamping down on the sobs. And still I held on to him like he could keep me from being swept out to sea, though the coming storm was so much greater than either of us.
“His Imperial Nastiness never sent you horrible letters before?” He sounded gently amused, rubbing his big hands up and down my back, strangely soothing.
“Of course he did.” Oddly, I laughed. And it loosened the tightness in me. “And always awful.” But Tertulyn and I had read them together, mocking them like girls pretending Anure’s threats would never come to pass. Now Tertulyn had disappeared and I’d shared the letter with Con. This was the first time, I realized with a wave of disorientation, that anyone but she knew the things Anure wrote to me.
Con hadn’t laughed. He’d understood how I felt, maybe even before I did.
“It’s a horrifying letter. It got under my skin, and I’ve been through terrible things,” he replied, holding me against him with unaccustomed gentleness, as if I might break.
“I shouldn’t have read it in court,” I said, admitting the error. “Normally, I read his letters in private.” With a glass of wine or a generous pour of brandy to ease the pain.
“Why did you?”
With a sigh, I pulled away, determined to stand on my own feet. Calanthe depended on me. If I allowed myself to lean on a man who didn’t care about Her, then She would fall with me if—when—he sacrificed us in his game of vengeance.
Con had crushed the netting at my bosom and I straightened it, thinking of how to defend my actions. I’d been in a foul mood, and seething with annoyance that Con refused to attend court, and furious with myself for even caring. It had also occurred to me that the missive might contain information I’d want to keep from Con. I didn’t doubt he’d use Calanthe as a tool to get to Anure. “The messenger who brought it said that—”
“What messenger?” Con shot out the question, startling me. “Didn’t the letter come by bird?”
“No. That style of envelope is too big for a bird to carry. The messenger came by ship from Yekpehr. He arrived just as court convened.”
Con swore and strode to the edge of the folly, cupping one hand to focus his strained voice. “Kara!”
General Kara popped out from behind a tree at the edge of the meadow. Con gave him a series of hand signals—and the man saluted and ran off.
“What did you tell him?” I demanded. I hadn’t known they could use signals like that—or that Kara was there—and I didn’t like not knowing things. Add it to the list, a wry voice in my head suggested.
Con faced me again, eyes glinting with anger. “I sent him to the harbor to investigate and make sure all is secure.”
“You knew he was there.” No wonder he’d sounded cryptic, and knowing, when I warned him we had observers.
“Of course,” Con growled. “You’re guarded by my people at all times.”
“I have guards,” I pointed out with acid disdain.
“You have pretty boys and girls in fancy uniforms better for looking good than deflecting weapons.”
“And I have My ladies,” I added, “whom I seem to recall defeated you handily.”
He curled his hands into fists, jaw tightening. “With magic.”
“Well, yes.” I smirked at him. “Not all weapons are made of metal.”
“Magic alone can’t protect you,” he ground out. “You admitted that.”
No denying that, curse it, so I acknowledged the point with a curt nod.