Wicked Steps

Her Father and new Stepmother arrived less than fifteen days before the wedding, delayed because they brought with them the Piiklanis and also the Second Imperial Princess Leia of Stussica. It was quite the procession through the Capital, and even buried in paperwork Emberlee heard the hubbub of their arrival.

"I truly hope that's Father arriving, I could use the pleasant company," she admitted tiredly to Lady Nimue, her latest lessons with Princess Vivian not unpleasant but a drain on her time regardless.

"It does seem to be," her Lady-in-waiting confirmed for her.

Lady Nimue helped her freshen up before she headed out to meet the very important guests. By now Ludwig and Sir Eloise were back from their vacations, though he was still called for almost daily 'reports, with the Empress. Outwardly there still wasn't much indication that the Knight had been as thoroughly drugged as the Empress, though Emberlee knew by now both were addicted to the poppy-tainted wine. It left her uncertain if he'd react in time to an attack even as he followed her to witness the Emperor greet the second Stussican Imperial Princess.

"I greet the Sun of the Xutian Empire, and my brother-by-marriage, long may you reign," Imperial Princess Leia curtsied, looking like a slightly older version of the Empress but with short-cut hair and a more petite stature. She wore what seemed to be typical Stussican attire, the embroidery on the sheer top in an eye-catching pink hue stitched to look like snakes.

"I greet her Imperial Highness, second Princess and my sister-by-marriage, thank you for making the long journey to join us for such a joyous occasion," he greeted back.

"It's my pleasure to accompany my fellow Stussicans as a guest to your son's wedding. I believe Countess and Count Piiklani have visited your court before," she neatly reintroduced the foreign guests, and Emberlee understood why Clara was such an astute opponent. The Empress had been born and raised in the Game that Emberlee was only beginning to properly play, but she had no time to be cautious despite her lack of experience.

"Of course, welcome back to my Court, and I hope you enjoy attending a Xutian wedding," the Emperor quickly bade and then focused on Emberlee's Father.

"I greet the Sun of the Empire, long may I serve you," he bowed, now Marquis Bergerac instead of General Matthias.

"Welcome my friend, I'm pleased to see you and your new wife, and am excited to see our children find happiness together," the Emperor welcomed her Father warmly.

Given that Leia was her elder sister, Empress Clara should have been here to receive her greetings. Instead, gossip was buzzing with speculations about why the Empress was absent, though they remained unaware of Ludwig's daily visits. Prince Damien was a little late to the introductions, but he came to Emberlee's side before her Father had completed his greeting.

"I'm thrilled to be here for such an event, your Imperial Majesty," her Father's etiquette remained perfect. Once freed from courtesies though, her Father didn't hesitate to come over to hug her, even with the Imperial Crown Prince holding her hand. Her new Stepmother stood nearby, smiling and quiet but not awkward.

"Congratulations on your marriage, did you enjoy the gift?" she asked Lady Guinevere while her Father briefly greeted Prince Damien. Having discussed her Father's intent to re-marry she'd purchased a leisure ship for their coastal March.

"Enjoy would be the wrong way to phrase it; I had dreamed of being a pirate as a small girl," Lady Guinevere admitted without shame.

"Then the Bergerac territory suits you very well, how did my Father handle being at sea?" Emberlee knew he didn't get seasick but had no love of the ocean.

"We played a lot of chess," Guinevere answered and Emberlee laughed, whether it was a euphemism or not, her Father seemed well paired with his new wife.

"Uncle Albert and Aunt Igraine are already here, but she's not as mobile currently so I expect they'll come visit later," Emberlee had no clue what to say to a Stepmother who didn't hate her or want to kill her.

"It'll be good to catch up with them," Guinevere had grown up close enough to the Capital to have moved in the same social circles as Igraine had.

Her Father came back over and hugged her tightly again, "You looked so much like your Mother the last time I saw you, but now you look wholly like yourself."

"I have taken a measure of myself Father, and although I will always require growth I have found who am I in the face of adversity." Mother had taught her politics, and Father had taught her survival, but Emberlee had turned those lessons into reality.

"One day I would appreciate hearing the stories of what you've encountered," Like Uncle Albert her Father seemed to understand that it wouldn't be a joyful late.

"One day I'll be able to tell you," she promised, wondering if it was the truth.

She had killed someone, murdered someone, was actively drugging the Empress, and was going to sacrifice the Knight loyal to her to see her plan completed. Although it was all done for the greater good Emberlee also accepted that didn't wash the blood off her hands. Her Father was a General, had conquered two Nations, and survived countless battles so it wasn't that he wouldn't understand. But like letting her Father believe she was marrying Damien for love, Emberlee didn't want to disillusion him about her innocence. Better to let him remember the little girl who'd trained at his side than face the truth that she'd become the danger in the dark.

Moral and emotional quandary aside, Emberlee was facing difficulties anointing the Mirrors she'd received from the Emperor. She'd tried blood; hers, Ludwig's, even a splash from a dead assassin, but nothing worked. Whatever power she'd burned to get them back to Xutia via Mirror had still failed to recover even over a month later. Her Blessing still worked, the undying orchids a silent testament to that, but she needed Fairy Magic and not a Xutian Blessing at this time.

"It's slower to recover here in Xutia, but it will," Aerig comforted, the ore in Ababa that amplified Fairy Magic utterly absent north of their Nation.

"The wedding date is in eleven days, everyone I care about is in the Capital, and if I don't act now I'm simply giving Clara the time she needs to attack first. It may not be me she goes after," Emberlee had forgotten to pace her wine out, anger and alcohol spilling out of her usual discipline.

"For now your Hound keeps her too busy, and then too tired to take action. Even if you can't slip her into a Mirror, you can still fall back on exposing the affair," he tried to help settle her agitation.

"It's not enough," like taking the Fairy out in Adaba, she had to be brutal to protect her loved ones. "If I don't end this Clara will find a way to come after me. She will not abide a world where I live and she's failed, so there will always be the risk if she's left alive."

"You said the first time you used a Mirror to summon a Fairy, it was the full moon," Prince Damien theorized, having heard her experience during their travels together, "Maybe it has to be the same now?"

"That's a very Adaban way of looking at it," Aerig complimented, "It seems I've been rubbing off on you." His drunkenness made it difficult to determine if that was an innuendo or not.

"You wish," Prince Damien teased Aerig back, as used to his flirtations as Emberlee, "but rule one strictly forbids it so keep holding your breath."

"Too bad it's the new moon, we don't have time to wait until the full," there wouldn't be a full moon between now and her wedding and Emberlee knew it, she'd already considered that variable.

"But this is not Adaba, and you're not Méabh," Aerig pointed out adroitly.

"So you have noticed," Prince Damien took another friendly dig at the Envoy, "and here I thought you were angling to be a second husband again."

Aerig leaned forward into Damien's personal space, smirking dangerously, "The thought had crossed my mind, but it'd first require that Emberlee lift rule one."

"Not happening," she toasted them with her wine glass, "but by all means see how close you can get to it because I plan to watch." They all collapsed in laughter, far too much wine having been consumed already.

Of course, the one night she had to enjoy was also the best chance Clara was going to get, and yet Emberlee had still gotten drunk. It was almost like she was using herself as bait to lure the Empress into a trap, especially since Ludwig was once again in the Empress' room for the night, stripping her of his guard. But no direct attack came for her that night, Sir Eloise guarded their drunken trio undisturbed.

It wasn't until the morning that news came in that during her night of revelry, a violent 'burglar' had snuck into Uncle Albert's Capital House and attacked Lady Igraine. Aerig sat on her couch, reading the letter that'd been delivered as Prince Damien brushed her hair. They were all hungover and not expecting such dire contents.

Firecracker,

Before you read it in the paper, Igraine was attacked by a burglar and she's at the Physicians' college being treated. The pregnancy is thankfully not at risk, but she may lose her hand, and there will be facial scarring. I will be at the college with her if you need me, but watch your back the burglar used the same suicide pill the assassin took.

Albert

Emberlee felt a wave of guilt hit her as she deciphered the message Igraine's injuries sent. Face and hand, just like Ludwig. This was Clara's sick way of chastising Emberlee for the state Ludwig was in. Her stomach squeezed tight, acid burning up into her throat as Emberlee fought to breathe again. Her Uncle had nearly lost his pregnant wife because Emberlee had lured the Empress into an affair with Ludwig and drugged her enough to make her unreasonable. Tears didn't well up but a terrible anger did and Emberlee stared at her reflection with disgust. In the Mirror the flowers on her vanity writhed, a twisted and dangerous mass of thorns curling around the frame. On her side of the Mirror, the thorns pierced through the reflection and covered the jewelled frame so every inch was entombed.

Behind her, she could see both Aerig and Damien react too slowly to stop her from reaching out and grabbing the thorn-encrusted frame. A hiss of pain was all Emberlee allowed even as dozens of sharp thorns tore into her hands, her grip tightening despite the pain. She'd tried her blood and will on it earlier, but now she dug into that pit of emotions and battered through the Mirror's resistance. She didn't just want to claim the Mirror so she could use it, she wished to claim all the Mirrors so she could have the satisfaction of killing Clara herself. By the time Aerig and Damien opened her grip and treated her wounds, the thorns and her blood had all dried up, the power spent and the Mirror anointed.

"The Mirror is mine," her voice lacked all trace of emotion, as burned out as the blood and thorns had been.

She'd thought to try anointing a single Mirror at a time like she had with Méabh's blood, but that impulsive rage had pushed and Emberlee could feel each of the twelve Adaban Mirrors resonate. Each one was hers now, and as expected Emperor Anderson had anticipated the need; he'd already set one of the Adaban Mirrors in Clara's room as a wedding gift. Ludwig would be called to Clara's room once again tonight, the Empress now as addicted to the Knight as she was the drugged wine, and while he distracted her Emberlee would use the Mirror to enter the Empress room. Or maybe she'd pull her into the Mirror herself, Emberlee still hadn't decided.

"That may be a little more impressive if your hands weren't shredded, darling," Aerig went back to the couch, and despite the hour poured a glass of wine. The Adaban could feel what she'd done, and thanks to his Relic eye Damien could See it too.

"Can one of us go through the Mirror for you?" Prince Damien asked instead of critiquing.

Even though she'd brought them all through a Mirror safely before, Emberlee knew this wasn't the same scenario. It had to do with the wish she'd made that'd powered it all. Then she'd wished to go Home. A simple concept at first but unfathomably complicated in reality. Home was Ortega, yes, but it was also everyone she cared about being safe with her. Home was her people and not just her March. And that all-encompassing Wish had somehow worked to bring living, Fairy-less people through with her. But this time she'd very clearly wished to kill Clara herself, so she wasn't willing to risk Damien or Aerig in a Mirror on her behalf; even if Aerig was already Fairy Bound.

"It'll be me," her hands felt terrible, but Emberlee didn't want to relent. Even drugged and distracted

Clara would be anticipating retaliation for this, her message had been too clear for Emberlee to misinterpret, but maybe waiting until the scabs formed was a good idea. If Clara was expecting an immediate attack, making her wait would likely throw her off.

'It'll be me," she repeated, taking a breath and looking at both men, "and when I do it she will receive no mercy. Even if it's not tonight."

In two weeks she'd be wed to Damien, and Emberlee wanted Clara dead in the ground. It was a terrible frame of mind to be in when Princess Vivian knocked at the door. The Imperial Princess didn't seem to think there was anything amiss to see both Envoy and Imperial Prince in the room with Emberlee despite the early hour. Instead, Vivian seemed to almost vibrate with barely contained excitement.

"It's here, it's here, it finally came!" In her hands was an official-looking missive still sealed with a Maphate crest.

As promised, Damien had the Spymaster intercept the letter before Clara could. The seal may look unbroken but Emberlee was certain the contents had already been reviewed before Vivian received it. They hadn't achieved privacy for the Princess, but at best pried some of her Mother's interference away.

"Well, read it to us," Aerig gestured for Vivian to join him on the couch.

"To the little star of Xutia, Imperial Princes Vivian,

I am honoured to be the recipient of your correspondence, although I am unworthy. As you indicated in your letter, the region of Maphate I am Magister of is the closest you could send a letter to with any assurance that it would reach its destination, but I believe it is the gods themselves who put us into contact with each other. It is the dry season where I live, and although all around me is withered and dry, your letter of friendship is a blessed shower of life. I am eager to receive your next correspondence and promise to inundate you with all manner of Maphate tidbits in return.

Magistrate of the North-Eastern clans."

"That is quite the letter," Aerig carefully broke the silence once Vivian finished ready it to them. It was a lot of empty flattery disguised in flowery language, but it wasn't negative. Emberlee didn't want to ruin Vivian's excitement over having a pen pal, so she kept her opinion to herself.

"I did a lot of research before sending the letter," Vivian immediately went into detail about the facts she'd learned regarding Maphate. It was fascinating because Vivian seemed rather ineffective, but she eagerly discussed an almost encyclopedic worth of details. Although Princess Vivian was a little naive, she was far from unintelligent, and the same shrewdness her Mother used to complicate Emberlee's life was present in Vivian's friendly intensity.

She was still listing details when Ludwig knocked at the door, much later than his usual routine. "I'll take your report in my office," Emberlee didn't let the Knight go to his knees where Vivian could witness it.

Ludwig nodded silently in compliance and left, though Emberlee did note how tired and pasty his face was. By now both he and Clara were consuming fairly large doses of the poppy extract, and it'd be taking its toll on them both sooner or later. If Emberlee were more patient she could simply let them overdose, or more cruelly cut them off entirely and let withdrawal kill them for her.

"I beg your pardon, but I need to collect his report," she addressed the Princess who'd come for her help.

"Oh no worries, go see to your Knight, well take care of the Princess,"' Aerig waved her off as if he could dismiss her from her room.

"Such a diplomat," Damien dryly described. "I'll escort you to your office, I need to speak with Father."

"Then it's you and me, my dear," Aerig kept Vivian distracted for her, "why don't we go to the library and pen a suitable response to your Magistrate?"

Normally by now Ludwig had already reported and returned to duty, she'd then be in Vivian's hands unit afternoon duties, but Ludwig's delay was undeniably Clara's doing. So it was time to hear how the Empress occupied herself while Emberlee's family paid in blood.

Ludwig was standing in her office, on his feet until she'd sat at her desk, and then he took his customary position on his knees. His remaining hand trembled ever so slightly as he untied the eye patch and let it fall to the floor. The scars on his face had become far less red in the time since he'd lost the eye, but with the pasty hue to the Knight's complexion now they stood out again. His remaining eye was bloodshot and tired-looking, and his handsomeness diminished as the drug slowly ravaged his vitality. Empress Clara would be in a similar state but able to disguise it with makeup.

"Mistress, I need to warn you," her loyal Hound sounded as wrung out as he looked.

"I already know Clara sent an assailant to my uncle's house and hurt Igraine to get to me," she'd been provoked into a rather emotional outburst this morning because of it already.

"Not only," he crawled closer, demanding that she pay attention to his concern, "that is not the only attack she has planned," she could not wait to be rid of this disgrace of a man.

"Tell me, but get to your feet, we don't need anyone to misconstrue," her office wasn't as controlled as the bed chamber was. And her idiot Knight was drug-addled and on his knees.

Ludwig picked his eyepatch back up, leaving it dangling over his missing hand but standing as she'd requested. "She seemed invigorated tonight Mistress, as if striking out at you affected her as much as the wine could, to the point where even my stamina faltered." Maybe Aerig's early morning wine made more sense now, hearing details of Ludwig's sexual submission to Clara certainly made her want to drink despite the hour. "And as I recovered she suggested a plot to me that would see you removed after your wedding without the need to kill you."

Emberlee focused on the Knight again, wondering what repulsive plot Clara had come up with, "Is she going to try and have Andrion impregnate Vivian since Damien isn't going to, or is she plotting to have me framed for an affair?" By now Clara would have realized Andrion was intentionally avoiding intimacy with her, so the logical assumption would be he has found a mistress. A bastard of the Emperor wouldn't be in line to inherit, not with Damien still around, but if Clara could contrive to have Vivian carry Andrion's babe she could force the potential inheritance as legal restitution for not only violating a political marriage but also breaking technical bloodline law. The same law she'd been willing to violate to marry Vivian to Damien originally no less. Once the babe had a legal right to potentially intent, she could eliminate Domes at her leisure.

"Neither Mistress," Ludwig's denial warned that there was an even worse option she hadn't considered. "She wants me to slip you a concoction that would sterilize you, so even if you marry the Prince she plans to protest your infertility and have it dissolved."

It was such a dispassionately effective way to do it, though as she'd discovered it was harder to taint a suspicious person than it first appeared. Thankfully there weren't a variety of drugs that could achieve Clara's goal, all of which she could be on alert for. She'd warn Damien as well, just to be safe. "I would have to be very distracted for her to pull it off so what else is she planning?" Emberlee demanded of the withered Knight. The attack on Uncle Albert's House wouldn't be enough on its own.

"I do not know Mistress, she hasn't confided in me that detail," Ludwig sounded contrite, though the fault wasn't his. "I'm only told what she wants so I do what she wants, as You commanded."

"Not for much longer Ludwig," even if she didn't use a Mirror to kill him, the Knight's body would give out eventually.

"I will endure for as long as you need me to Mistress, my purpose is to serve your will," he denied her comfort in a way that sounded disturbingly like how Oberon the Monolith spoke to Méabh.

"Then keep enduring, I want every breath in your body spent before you can rest," she played along, wondering if it would be prudent to send what was left of the Knight to Méabh as a toy once this was over instead of killing him completely.

"Will I be forgiven in the end?" he dared ask, carefully placing the eyepatch with her dismissal.

"You'll have earned it," she encouraged with a lie.

"Thank you, Mistress," he bowed and left.

"Disgusting," Emberlee spat, not entirely certain who she was referring to.

It was nine days to her wedding and now she knew Clara was unstable but no less dangerous. The attack had been a surprise but despite Igraine's injuries everyone was alive. So why had Clara's first attack only resulted in Igraine's injuries? Emberlee carefully took off the gloves she wore to disguise her wounded hands, irritated that she'd reacted so emotionally and impulsively this morning. It had gained her the use of the Adaban Mirrors, but she would have rather remained without the portals if it'd meant Igraine had never been targeted.

The fact that Clara was looking at annulling the marriage after could mean Emberlee wasn't a physical target for now, which should have helped her feel less like going through the Mirror tonight and eliminating Clara immediately, and yet her instinct still clamoured for it. Her Aunt has been disfigured, and her baby cousins almost didn't get to be born or grow up. Like Aubin. Because of her once again; her brother's death because she'd failed to protect him and now her actions had directly led to this.

"Aren't we a bloodthirsty monster," she chided herself.

Thankfully nothing answered her in the empty office, and Emberlee studied the never-wilting bouquet at her tea table. Some of her unease could be induced by the stimulating fragrance of the orchid, its extract was ruinous for a reason, but she still didn't discard the blossoms. They were still too useful, and despite her pragmatism, Emberlee found them pretty. If Clara was now prepared to wait until after the wedding Emberlee could have the discipline to do the same. The Emperor's intimate negligence would have bothered Clara, as her goal was to keep Xutia beholden to Stussica. Even if she wasn't planning to use Vivian as Emberlee had expected, that didn't mean Clara wasn't concerned about Andrion having a mistress. Emberlee could fake an Imperial bed warmer, a ghost for Clara to chase that would only exist in her mind and the careful evidence Emberlee could plant. Like drugging the carefully controlled Clara into an affair with Ludwig, she'd now send her into a frenzy of paranoia by implying the Emperor was doing the same. It would keep her occupied and hopefully prevent any more of the Empress' attacks.

Her maid Leah kept her apprised of the servants gossiping over Clara's affair with Ludwig. It still hadn't made its way into High Society yet but only because the servants of the Imperial Castle were still fairly discreet. It'd take a slightly higher ranked eye witness to bring the affair into the light, but until then Lady Nimue reported that High Society was still focused on Emberlee's ongoing and deliberately not secret intimacies with Prince Damien. Sharing a bed chamber, the gift of a symbolic bouquet, and the very physically affectionate habits she'd established all did the work for her now. Clara was knee-deep in her affair, rejected by Andrion and likely fearing a mistress coming to replace her, all while High Society chattered around her of Emberlee's successful romance. Add in the unsettled effect of now heavy drug addiction, and the Empress would be ready to believe the evidence laid out for her.

Emberlee wouldn't have to be subtle, in fact given the attack it'd be better to be hostile. Emberlee grabbed the entire bouquet of orchids, sending Leah to fetch a black ribbon to tie them up with, "I want it as plain as possible, no lace or embroidery. Think the kind used for funerals."

Once properly set up, Emberlee took the now-ready bouquet to the Empress' rooms. Ludwig had once again come to report to her as soon as the Empress had released him from serving her, and given that an Imperial Knight's stamina failed it was a safe guess that Empress Chenab hadn't recovered yet. She'd be in her room asleep until noon as had become the routine.

Of course, the servants tried to send her away so Clara could rest, but the bouquet in hand was a clear indication that something was going on, the Empress' head maid likely a part of Clara's scheme to turn flowers into extract for use on the Emperor and trying to disguise the affair with Ludwig. "I can always deliver the last bouquet to Emperor Andrion so he can give them to the Empress later," that simple offer encouraged the maid to escort her inside without further argument, rousing the Empress before escaping back outside once Clara was sat at her tea table.

A woman like Jimena would throw a fit, demanding to know how a mere Marchioness dare intrude on an Empress' bedchamber. But Clara sat in her house robe to cover her sleeping attire, hot water with lemon to combat the wine she'd consumed earlier, and saw the funereal bouquet the morning after sending a very violent message; she required no explanation. Emberlee had spotted the physical symptoms in Ludwig but as expected Clara carefully covered the wasting of her health even if she didn't know the cause. Shortly after Damien had proposed Empress Clara had tried to warn and threaten her into compliance, now she'd escalated to harming a pregnant woman to send a message. Any remorse Emberlee might have felt using narcotics to diminish her opponent evaporated.

"It seems you need this," she gestured to the flowers and the black ribbon binding then, "maybe if you use the whole bouquet the Emperor will finally look at you again, keep you too busy to send a message using my Uncle and his wife."

"Whatever are you implying Marchioness?" Clara's soft emphasis on her title was a warning to keep to the Game, admit nothing directly and talk around the subject. Like the spices in their food, Emberlee had gotten used to the more Adaban way of using words as weapons, though she wasn't going to take criticism from a woman wanting her subjugation.

"Our Capital is full of beautiful things right now," she gestured to the window, knowing the gardens of the Imperial Castle had put on their autumnal display, "and so very many interesting people are here for my wedding." And she looked at Clara, eyes scanning down the older woman's beautiful face and body as if finding a multitude of flaws. "Have you had a chance to catch up with her Imperial Highness, Princess Leia yet? I know you were absent despite the warm greeting the rest of the Court gave her," Emberlee plucked a single petal off the bouquet, stirring the fragrance into the air. "I hadn't realized just how similar you two are in appearance; even if she's the elder sister it's almost as if you're twins." She smiled in a friendly manner, dropping the petal on top of Clara's still steaming cup of lemon water, "With her here it's almost like there are two of you, I'm sure the Emperor has enjoyed that fantasy after all the passions you've shared."

With an equally fraudulent smile, the Empress picked the cup up and sipped the tea deliberately, trying to look unaffected by the implication that Andrion was sleeping with her sister instead of her. Logically the timelines didn't add up, but Emberlee didn't need to convince Clara of it, just stir her paranoia. Let Clara look for all the logical reasons why it couldn't be Leia that Andrion was using the aphrodisiac's effect on, but she'd also realize it could be someone else. The Capital had filled with the active members of Xutia's High Society after Emberlee and Damien had returned; a philanderer had their choice of bedmate and she'd been dosing the Emperor for weeks by then so he should have been chasing Clara down long before now. "Men often fantasize about the most ridiculous, unobtainable things," the Empress didn't gesture for Emberlee to pour her cup, a social rejection meant to reprimand, "though I suppose it's only natural that you focus on such things given the nature of your reputation currently."

"You and Imperial Princess Leia share a Mother if I am not mistaken, but if I recall correctly none of the other Stussican Princesses do," Emberlee took the Empress' teacup and sipped from it, Clara staring in shock at such blatant disrespect. "It'll be interesting to see how long before the Emperor of Xutia follows the pattern held in Adaba and your Nation."

"Get out," Clara hissed at her, makeup and discipline keeping the loathing dripping off her words from showing on her face.

Emberlee met the Empress' hate-filled glare and let Fairy honesty lockdown around them, though she felt the warning wave of exhaustion tap at her focus. Her shredded hands were a constant pulse of pain, she'd expended whatever power she'd had to connect the Mirrors this morning, and she hadn't eaten anything yet; her still human body was demanding recompense. "Thank you for all you've taught me, Your Imperial Majesty, I intend to use these lessons well." She curtsied and looked away, a part of her wanting to wrap her power around Clara and stuff it down her throat, but she held onto her spontaneous homicidal urge.

She left the Empress' room, forgoing work in her office to prepare a quick outing to visit Uncle Albert and Aunt Igraine at the Physician's college. Ludwig was still recovering, so to be prudent Emberlee sent a letter to her Father so he could accompany her as well. The Hound was a drug-soaked Imperial Knight, her Father was a decorated General; she was far safer with him.

The days had gotten cooler, and fashion trends shifted to heavier layers and fabrics in preparation for the colder weeks of autumn. She'd be married before the first snow fell, but it'd arrive not long after. Her new Stepmother Guinevere looked lovely in the burgundy and navy colours given to the Bergerac Marquis, and even Father's coloration suited the pairing. It helped her feel a little more at ease, her Father had loved her Mother so intensely that Emberlee wasn't certain about him having to remarry again, but they seemed comfortable around each other; happy even. Or they would if the trip wasn't to the Physician's college to see the badly wounded Igraine and the frantic Uncle Albert.

Uncle Albert still had some blood on his clothes, dried to a tacky brown after the hours between the attack and now. Emberlee wasn't certain if it belonged to the victim or assailant, but it didn't matter as she hugged her Uncle tightly. He could have died, or Igraine and her unborn cousins as well, all because the Empress wanted to make Emberlee flinch.

"I'm so sorry," Emberlee's careful resolve and discipline cracked as her irascible Uncle trembled against her, overwrought at what had been done to his family. Despite her best efforts searing hot tears dripped down her icy cold cheeks, "this is all my fault."

"No it's not firecracker," he immediately tried to comfort but they didn't know all she'd done to provoke it.

Her Uncle had insisted she use him to help build her power base, and now the family he'd reaped from that bargain was at risk because she'd drugged the Empress into instability. Clara had threatened to go after Emberlee's people before if necessary, and had even tried to kill her Father and Emberlee as well, but this attack didn't serve anything other than vicious spite.

"It is," she insisted.

It wasn't a discussion for such a public setting, but given the events that had occurred, she didn't dare risk delaying the explanation and warnings. Thankfully her Stepmother Guinevere seemed to understand and excused herself to sit with Igraine so Emberlee could talk to her Father and Uncle in privacy. They already knew how her engagement to the Imperial Crown Prince had thwarted the Empress' attempt to have her daughter marry him, and her Father had been there for her first assassination attempt, so Emberlee only had to fill them in on the interactions they were ignorant of. But the same emotions she'd failed to hold in check this morning ravaged her discipline now too.

She told them everything. Not just the threats, attacks, and countermeasures she'd endured, but for some reason she couldn't hold anything back. It all came oozing out of her like a festering wound draining pus, neither man interrupting her. Emberlee couldn't give them a perfect recounting of what Adaba had been, but by the time she could dry of words and weeping she'd divulged all the major trials she'd endured since Mother and Aubin had died. It was beyond selfish of her, they were supposed to be supporting Uncle Albert and yet here she was demanding comfort instead, but Emberlee couldn't reject their embraces afterwards.

"It's unfair that you've been put through so much already," Uncle Albert looked as blotchy after crying as she did, "but it's not your fault."

"He's right Emberlee," her Father still held her hand, "you did not plot the attack, the Empress did."

"There will be more," she warned, careless that her barely scabbed hands were agitated by her Father's grip. "Ludwig confessed she wanted to sterilize me and the only way to pull it off would be to keep me distracted by going after my family." They were being kind by not blaming her for it but she knew that if she hadn't agitated the Empress so much they wouldn't be in the Physicians college now.

"What I want to know, firecracker, is what we can do to help you bring her down?"

"Survive," she pleaded, wrung out emotionally again and it was only afternoon.

"You have to as well," her Father insisted right back.

"Would it be alright if I saw Igraine before I go?" Her new Aunt was only here because of her, but still, she wanted to check on her and the unborn cousins.

"She'd be more mad if you didn't stop in to see her," Uncle Albert encouraged.

Emberlee remained silent as her Uncle led them to where his pregnant wife was resting, surprised to see Igraine awake and talking to Lady Guinevere. Lady Igraine's copper hair was tied back in a simple braid, making her look young in the patient's robe she wore, and her beautiful face was partially covered with a sterile dressing. It looked like the 'burglar' had drawn a knife from Igraine's forehead and almost straight down to her chin, narrowly missing her lips and thankfully he'd spared her actual eye, More devastating was the mess of bandages that used to be her hand; Emberlee couldn't see what'd been done but it no longer had the right shape to be completely whole underneath. thankfully all her tears had already been shed, she was able to see for herself that even though Igraine was hurt, she remained alive.

"You were right Emberlee," Igraine took familial liberty to bypass etiquette, "the Physician confirmed it looks like I'm carrying twins so it's very likely the divination attempts couldn't say boy or girl because it's boy and girl."

It was so unexpectedly mundane despite what Igraine had endured that Emberlee had no idea what to do other than sit down. "That's wonderful news," her voice sounded funny, her throat feeling oddly squeezed tight.

Guinevere pressed her knee against Emberlee's, silently supportive without being overtly obvious; even if she didn't know the depths of Emberlee's distress she'd caught on to it. "Now you'll have to decide on traditional or in traditional names," she kept the topic tight as well.

"Any suggestions are welcome," Uncle Albert added, standing at Igraine's side so she could hold his hand.

Xutia had an old tradition when it came to twins, their names usually Matched in some way, shape, or form. A more traditional twin set would be along the lines of Aaron and Erin, but not necessarily that redundant. A more trendy version would use a set like Rose and Thorne for a girl-boy pair but that kind of selection didn't suit Igraine and Albert at all. One day Emberlee knew she'd have to pick out her own children's names but had no ideas to offer now.

"Gabriel and Gabrielle," her Father's suggestion was a little more traditional but at least it suited the parents better. "Sapphira was nothing not prepared."

Of course, Emberlee's Mother had selected appropriate names if they'd ever had twins, and by offering that here it was her Father's way of letting them go so his future children would have new names picked out with his new wife. Her Father would never forget the love he had with her Mother, Emberlee knew that, but it felt good to see him open his heart to his new wife. She didn't want her Father to be alone, even though she'd fought so hard against it with the Emperor.

It didn't hurt, despite still missing her Mother daily, but Emberlee returned to the Imperial Castle in a contemplative mood. A few short hours ago she'd been determined to kill Clara as soon as possible and had been frustratingly thwarted at every impulse. It still had to be done, the only way to safeguard anyone was to eliminate the Empress, but now that she'd burned through her emotions the numbness gave her a little charity.

Clara was targeting Emberlee's people because she'd made it too difficult to get Emberlee directly, and all the work she'd done to vanish the Empress had only motivated Clara into being heinous. So now she had an almost sociopathic political tactician as an opponent that she'd gotten addicted to narcotics and disgraced with her Knight. Emberlee's bloodied Mirror this morning and the wish she made still echoed in her mind, she had to kill Clara with her own two hands, but now she'd figured out how to do it without hiding the murder at all.

Five days to the wedding were their separate pre-wedding celebrations. Aerig was plotting Damien's bachelor party, and Vivian had been planning Emberlee's. That meant the Empress would have to attend her for appearance's sake, and Emberlee was going to goad her into attacking Emberlee in front of all those witnesses.

Emberlee retreated to her office, deep in thought over the efforts this would require to achieve. She'd have to call Ludwig in and have him start begging the Empress to choke him in their intimacies so that Clara would have the physical habit started. At the same time, she'd cut the amount of the poppy extract their nightly wine had to stir withdrawal. And she'd still use the Mirror all that effort had been spent to anoint, but not to kill Clara with. Emberlee was going to haunt Clara's reflection from now until the bachelorette party, and when she wasn't lurking in a reflection she didn't belong in, Emberlee was going to be in Clara's face like she'd been today, insinuating that the Emperor has grown sexually bored with her. The night before the party she'd cut the poppy dose entirely out so Clara would be highly unstable, and then she'd use the scent of the poppy flower in her perfume so Clara couldn't resist her. If Emberlee has done it well, Clara should crack and try to choke Emberlee in front of everyone.

Emberlee planned to stab Clara in the heart with Need as she had Méabh, only this Empress wouldn't resurrect. It wasn't a flawless plan, she knew that, but it felt more final than having Clara's death remain a mystery to the world. Stussica could be angry at the death but demand no restitution because to the audience it'd only seem like Emberlee had defended herself. Vivian may struggle with the fact that Emberlee had killed her mother, but she'd have witnessed it herself so there was hope for their friendship recovering over time.

For the first time since she'd returned from Adaba, Emberlee felt midnight ripple across her awareness, the wounds in her palms suddenly searing in pain. With Damien asleep in their bed, she hadn't dared to let the sound of her agony escape, but she stared at the reflection on the Mirror's surface, teeth clenched against the pain. She willed her reflection to leave her side, sending it to linger in Clara's like a ghost only she could see, and staged the reflection to look as if Clara had killed her; over and over.

Illusions; of magic and the mind.

She stumbled back to the bed, almost fainting as a rending sensation accompanied the absence of her reflection. She'd have less than four days to focus Clara's anger all on her so the Empress could be provoked into attacking her, and it was a long shot that she'd succeed, but Emberlee didn't know how else to reduce the likelihood of her loved ones being hurt again.

While she slept, she bore testament to the nocturnal torments her reflection decided to inflict on Clara. As she'd once reviewed Deirdre's demise through the eye of her reflection, so too was she bound now to that perspective. The distant sounds of almost violent passions being spent issued from the portal before her, the moving reflections around her a silent mimicry of Clara and Ludwig in her room. As she'd coached, Ludwig lay on his back with Clara riding him and the Empress' hands wrapped around his neck, and in a deliberately macabre twist, her reflection twisted the scene so what Clara would see out of the corner of her eye while strangling Ludwig was Emberlee's face.

It didn't end there, their drug-fuelled fervour unsatisfied so easily by this point of their liaison. Clara's peripheral may have seen Emberlee's face instead of Ludwig, but her narcotic and aphrodisiac fuelled lust kept her humping the Knight with a demanding straddle. The romance novels Aerig and Vivian had insisted she read had at least prepared her for such a sight, but it felt deeply unsettling.

And then to make matters worse, Ludwig spotted her in the Mirror's surface and she heard him cry out, "Mistress," in an ecstatic tone.

There wasn't enough blood or brandy to wash the memory of it from her.