She looked to the left, but just as many Empire soldiers were storming toward her from that direction.
Then she heard footsteps behind her, but before she could turn around, she felt a hard object hit the back of her head, and everything went black.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Stephania sat way in the back in the throne room and brought the fan to her lips, hiding a yawn, this dreary council of old birdbrained men and women so uninspiring she thought she might pass out from boredom. For hours, they had discussed – in that same mind-numbing monotonous tone – how the council was losing money, how the court was poorly managed, and how the rebellion, if it were to continue, would cost the Empire greatly. And as if these dignitaries couldn’t grasp it, it had already been brought up three times that the rebellion had already drained half the king’s gold.
Still, after hours of futile rambling, dozens of preposterous ideas being tossed around, they came up with no solutions. None. Stephania had sat through too many of these, and more and more, listening to these simpleminded mumbling nitwits, it just proved to her again that they were all brainless monkeys, pretending to know what they were talking about and what they were doing.
“Are there any more matters to discuss?” the king said from his throne at the front of the room.
Not a soul breathed a word, thank heavens, Stephania thought, dying to get out of this stuffy room, her bottom sore from having sat so long on this unpadded chair. Ever since the announcement that Thanos would wed Ceres, she had been demoted to sit in the back row by the exit door, next to the least important dignitary in the entire Empire, her seat the farthest from the king than anyone’s.
I will climb my way back up into the king’s graces, she resolved. Soon.
Just when she judged the meeting over, Cosmas, sitting at the front, rose and asked to stand before the king.
Stephania rolled her eyes. Would this day never end? She knew he was the old, senile, hard-of-hearing geriatric who cared about Thanos – a little too much, Stephania thought – but what on earth would he have to say that would warrant a single second in a council meeting such as this? All the old man did day in and day out was read scrolls in the library, stare at the stars, and talk of things that didn’t really matter – not to the Empire at least.
Stephania noticed that the other dignitaries also seemed as disinterested in the old fart as her, their eyes glazing over with boredom.
Eying the floral pattern on her green silk dress, she listened with one ear, fanning herself as the ancient scholar held up a scroll toward the king.
“I was asked to deliver this letter to Thanos,” Cosmas said. “It is from Ceres.”
Stephania’s ears perked right up. Perhaps the old scholar wasn’t as much of a fool as she had thought. He had certainly misled me, Stephania thought, because she presumed the elder was more loyal to Thanos than even the king or the Empire. But perhaps she had been wrong in her assumption.
With a giddy heart, she repressed a smile. Now that commoner, Ceres, would be put to death and Stephania would marry Thanos, making everything right again. What fortune. What luck! Perhaps the gods were smiling down on her after all.
Stephania watched as the king read the letter in silence, his eyebrows sinking deeper and deeper over his fat face. When he had finished, he looked up.
“Did you read this?” the king asked Cosmas.
Cosmas stepped forward.
“Yes, and that was when I knew it needed to be brought to your attention,” he said. “The girl is a lying conniving thief, a revolutionary in our very midst.”
Gasps went through the chamber, and disorder erupted.
“Silence! Silence!” the king said.
“She must not marry Prince Thanos!” one advisor shouted.
“Hang the girl for treason!” another said.
The room exploded into commotion, some yelling for the king to imprison the imposter, others demanding she be put to death immediately.
“Silence!” the king yelled again, and the room settled down into a low hum of whispers. “We cannot just kill her. The revolutionaries will start rioting in the streets again and we are not ready to take upon all of them.”
“But we must do something,” an advisor said. “You do not mean to let a conspirator remain in our midst, leaking information to the revolutionary headquarters?”
A brilliant idea popped into Stephania’s mind, and she gasped. A few heads turned toward her, and she smiled, knowing this idea would be her big chance to gain favor again. She just had to speak up.
“May I make a suggestion, Your Excellences?” she said loud and clear, rising to her feet.
The king’s and queen’s eyes darted to her.
“Please, it will also help to generate money for the Empire,” she said, sensing their hesitation.
“Very well, speak,” the king said. “But make it quick.”
Stephania stepped onto the floor and walked toward the front of the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor, hundreds of eyes following her every step. She repressed a grin, bathing in the attention, elated that she had such a wonderful idea to present, when the supposed most powerful and intelligent men and women of the Empire had thought of no such thing. She knew that once she had shared with the king her idea, he would love it. And perhaps the king and queen would even give her more authority from now on – authority over Ceres.
Arriving at the bottom of the steps below the thrones, Stephania curtsied deeply before the king and queen.
“So far your excellences have done a wonderful job in using Ceres to promote and strengthen the Empire. And I see an opportunity to do it again,” Stephania said.
“Well then, why don’t you enlighten us,” the queen said in a stiff tone.
“Don’t throw Ceres out of our midst,” Stephania said. “And don’t execute her. Instead…use her to make the Empire wealthier than it has ever been.”
The room grew silent, a few whispers throughout, and Stephania could just feel favor descending upon her again.
“And how do you propose we do that?” the king asked.
“Make her a permanent contender in the Killings,” Stephania said.
Now the room had become so silent, Stephania could hear air moving in and out of her nostrils.
“She’s a girl,” someone yelled.
“No one would come see a commoner being butchered,” another said.
Stephania was becoming impatient with these narrow-minded, short-sighted old-timers.
“Ceres is a soon-to-be royal female, a novelty, a fierce fighter in her own right,” she said. “I have watched her fight, and she beat Lucious. I dare say people would travel from afar just to see her.”
The king squinted, bringing a hand to his bearded chin.
“Make the spectators pay a premium to see the princess combatlord,” Stephania added.
The king glanced at the queen, and the queen lifted an eyebrow.
“The princess combatlord,” the king said. “I will think on it, but I do believe the idea to be excellent. Well done, Stephania. Well done.”
Stephania curtsied again and walked back to her seat, extremely proud of herself for having thought of such a genius plan. Not only would her idea bring in money for the Empire, it would serve a very personal purpose, too.
Vengeance.
Finally, Thanos would be hers.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
What a waste of my time, Sartes thought as he sat below the willow tree in their yard, peeling potatoes for his mother, the wind pulling at his burgundy tunic in a steady stream. Sartes was too young to fight in the rebellion, Rexus had told him, and had sent him back home to sit and wait to mature, to feel useless, to ponder on Nesos’s death, to sit and think of how Ceres was trapped within the walls of the palace, being abused, used, and tortured.
He tossed the potato into the pot and started to peel another one.
How was it Rexus expected him to sit here and do nothing, to suffer the consequences of the war, but to not help in any way? He wasn’t too young, he knew, but the revolutionaries didn’t see that. Just because he was small of build didn’t mean he didn’t have skills and abilities that were useful in the war against the Empire.