Stifling minutes of complete silence should have concerned her, but Jovine knew better than most that the Emperor’s wordless manner was his greatest effort of restraint. In fact, it was when he was at his angriest that he refused to speak. Rather than a fevered outburst, Richard’s anger was the most menacing when he dwelled in silence.
Thick, heavy tension suffocated the air as Jovine stood there with her fingers calmly twined in front of her. By the deadly glint in the Emperor’s eyes, he was daring her to break his stare. Or the silence. Whichever came first.
She refused to bend on both accounts. In truth, she relished the way his jaw would tick along with the fading seconds.
After all, his ire was expected.
Losing his own game, Richard ripped his eyes away and cursed fiercely. “You have nothing to say, do you?” he muttered under his breath. His dark blue eyes pinned her back on the spot. “Do you realize the repercussions of what you’ve just done?”
Jovine stared blankly ahead. “Of course I do.”
“Then, you’ve purposefully set out to HUMILIATE ME?” he bellowed, the vast room echoing his outrage. “TO DISRESPECT ME?”
“Not exactly, but if it has come to that, I don’t have any soothing words for you.”
Richard barked out a savage laugh. “Look at you, Jovine. You know how to bite now.”
She mockingly smiled along with him. “Does it sting?”
“No. Because your foolish efforts will be for nothing,” Richard taunted, all traces of his forced humor wiped away. “The Vel Feyras Family has been banned from entering Court for decades. The very concern of his presence here threatens the line of succession. For this alone, his contest will be rejected.”
“Times have changed, Your Majesty,” Jovine calmly countered. “You, yourself, were the one to bring him here.”
Richard clenched his fists until his knuckles paled.
“The Grand Duke’s reign over the North has seen very prosperous seasons for both the nobles and commoners. Surely, for the good of the people, you’d desire his talents,” she continued.
“Do you think I give damn about his talents?” Richard spat. “We are childless, Jovine. That makes him a danger to us.”
Jovine raised a brow at his obsession with the line of succession. “Well, then, I suppose our Royal Concubine should be facing a few sleepless nights.”
The Emperor’s eyes darkened. “Why would she? When I have you?”
A jolt startled her insides, the unexpected retort striking a nerve. Jovine suppressed her fury at his insinuation and flicked him an icy gaze. “You and I both know we’ve failed in that manner. I would even say God was merciful enough to spare us the ache of bearing a child together.”
“One word,” Richard started in a dark voice. “One order, and I could have you in my bed. Or would you forgo your duties to me as my wife and Empress?”
“You can threaten me all you’d like,” she said. “But you'll never have me again. If your ego claims it as negligence, perhaps you can just depose me.”
His lips parted.
“But I’d remind you, Your Majesty. In this marriage of convenience, we both bring power to the table,” she continued. “Before you, I was a Rainer. Don’t take that name lightly.”
Jovine saw the exact moment that his temper snapped. Slamming his hands on the table, the Emperor rose from his Throne. She watched as his mouth formed the barbed words he wanted to hurl, but instead, he swiftly turned away from her, his body trembling harshly. When he swiveled back to face her, his eyes grew cold. Cold enough for a speck of dread to trickle down her spine.
“Come here,” he ordered lowly.
A hint of trepidation flashed through her. Jovine didn’t move. “If you have something to say, you to come to me.”
His lips curved up into a sneer. “So, that’s how you want to play it?”
Shoving past the large desk, the Emperor made his way down the dais and approached her with slow, measured steps. She had seen that look in his eyes before, and the memory of it made her shiver. Doing everything in her power to stand her ground, Jovine held her breath as he neared her still form.
This close together, she could see the vein throbbing at his temples and the dilation of his pupils. The very heat of his anger caressed her as he crowded into her space. As he stared down at her with a violent, raw fury, his fingers curled into her hair and pulled at the strands to tip her face up to look at him.
Shocked, Jovine clenched her fists over her gown. As if he was pleased by the crack in her mask, Richard leaned down with a smirk. Before she could decide whether or not to knee him where it would hurt, Richard pushed her head into his chest and roughly embraced her. Jovine swallowed a gasp when she felt his lips brushing her hair.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“Why are you acting like this?” he whispered into her.
Stunned and bewildered by his unexpected move, she stood like a stiff branch in his arms.
Richard’s lips traveled to the delicate skin behind her ear, making her jump when he breathed, “Are you still angry with me? Tell me what I can do to ease it.”
Every part of her revolted from his touch, but the worst of it was the familiarity of his arms. Or the way her body relived the sensation of leaning into his intoxicating scent.
Richard’s large hands spanned the width of her waist and sunk dangerously low to the small of her back. He pressed their bodies closer as he continued whispering into her ear. “You and I have been too separate from each other.” One of his hands traveled back up to the nape of her neck where his fingers pressed into her skin. “No more distance.” His lips touched her temple. “No more of this absurdity.”
Jovine’s breaths grew heavier. From anger or distress, she didn’t quite know.
Richard momentarily leaned back, his eyes moving over her paling face. His nose brushed her cheek, and she knew where his lips would touch her next. A hazy part of her might have allowed it. Maybe even for the sake of pretending that there was a twisted comfort of recognizing this part of her husband. But before he leaned in to take her lips, Jovine saw the calculation in his observing gaze. She saw the way he monitored her reaction.
Just as he bent down to take her lips, Jovine jerked her head to the side.
A disbelieving laugh burst from her. “Did you honestly think that would work on me?”
Richard froze. “What are you talking about?”
Jovine stepped back until his heavy arms fell away from her. She stared into his grim face. “You never change, do you? A few pretty words, and I’d bend for you — that’s what you’re going for, isn’t it?”
The Emperor narrowed his eyes.
Jovine shook her head in disgust. Just how pathetic did he think she was for to fall for it? “Have you always been this despicable? Do you always go to such lengths to get what you want?”
His composure shattered, the ugly, disguised rage firing up again. “What about YOU?” he shouted, his hands flailing in the air. “How far are you going to go? You’re only doing this because I despise him. What’s next? Are you going to claim him as your lover?”
“He is my lover,” she shot back. “A fantastic one as well.”
Richard flinched backwards, his body quivering. “Watch your mouth, Jovine.”
She tilted her head. “Amon loves my mouth.”
Surging into her, he grasped her arms in a painful grip. He looked as if he wanted to strangle the breath out of her lungs. Breathing hard, his face turning red, Richard practically vibrated in his thirst for bloodshed. “I could have both your heads for what you're implying. But you're a liar. Do you think I’m dull enough to believe you?”
“Believe whatever you need to nurse your vanity.”
He released her, scoffing in arrogance. “You're only making this easier for me, then. Your implications outright discredit him. Maybe I'll just hang him for even thinking of touching you.”
“Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you,” she retorted. “If his relationship with me presents an issue, I believe we’d have to rid every member connected to Emilia Syrene. Every individual who has ever received a favor on your part. Would you be wiling to do that?” Jovine challenged in a hard voice.
Richard’s eyes widened. Either way, if he rid the Council of every biased member to deny Amon’s entry, it would still count as her win.
When his response never came, Jovine sneered back at him. “I didn’t think so. Amon vel Feyras will be our next Minister of Finance.”
“You really think I’d let this pass?” he muttered, dark threat lacing every syllable.
“Actually, yes.” This time, Jovine was the one to slowly crowd into him. Eager for this to end, she leaned in to whisper, “You see, by now, the entirety of Theolos will know about the Grand Duke’s contest for the role. One of the better things about our Empire is the striking speed in which news travels through the cities.”
She felt the shocked tension pulsating through his barely-held restraint.
Jovine smiled, savoring his frustration. Noticing the loose cravat at his throat, she casually brought her fingers to retie the unfastened cloth, a contemptuous habit that no longer held the love she had when she used to do this for him in the past.
“I wonder what the people would think when they hear the Emperor has denied such a fine contender on the whim of his pride,” she continued in a steady voice, firmly tightening the cloth around his throat. When it was finished, Jovine pulled him closer by the knot. “Maybe they’ll believe it’s a whim of fear. That you’re afraid of him.”
When she finally met his eyes, it wasn’t anger or temper that flashed in his morbid gaze. It was a faint distortion of panic. Like he couldn’t recognize his own wife anymore.
Jovine softly patted him on the chest. “Amon will be our next Minister of Finance,” she sweetly repeated. “There’s nothing more to say here.”
Leaving her husband to grapple with her words, Jovine walked away from him.
She took it as a small victory, no matter the fact that he still had the final say. With her little scheme of leaking the news to the people, it would deter him from outright rejecting the Grand Duke's place in the Council. The changing of ministers was always held in private discussions that were solely meant for the ears of the Emperor and his Council. If it was any other way, the complications of political candidacy would prove to hinder every ruling.
In the case of the Grand Duke, a noble man with claim to the Throne and underground supporters shadowing his every movement, Richard’s rejection would solidify the rivalry. Richard was the Emperor, but it would damn well make it harder for him to deny this play.
Jovine’s hand reached for the shining, silver handles of the door, satisfied enough with this ending.
“You took my ring off.”
She stopped in her tracks. Of all the things she expected him to say, all the hate and anger she expected to hear, that single observation was far from it.
Jovine turned her head. Looking more exhausted and detached, it seemed as if all the strength had drained out of him. With his eyes solely trained on her empty finger, Jovine glanced at his own banded one.
“I suggest you do the same,” she muttered. “It’s a shame needing to adorn it for the sake of pretense.”
His flat eyes traveled to her face. “Pretense? You are my wife, Jovine. We are bound.” He lifted his hand to regard his ring. “I don’t ever plan on severing us.”
She couldn’t decide if this was his backhanded way of saying she would fall with him if he was ruined. Or if it was simply a way of him claiming possession over her as a way of dominance and pride.
“Bound…” she faintly echoed the word, feeling hollow from the thought. “What a tragic fate for us, Your Majesty.”
Closing the door on his haunted form, the Emperor was left with her parting words ringing through the grand marbled room.
She had no idea.
We were always bound for tragedy.