The Empress

*The following is an excerpt from my book The Empress. Additional chapters are published under https://www.wattpad.com/user/zlatoluna. I hope you enjoy!

I push the last, smallest earing into its place and close it with a faint snap. "There," I turn my head to admire the crescent of shimmery amethyst stones along the edge off my ear.

"Purple is such an underappreciated color," I tell the girl in the mirror. Her face is still white as a ghost. I know she's scared senseless that she'd say something wrong, do something wrong, that the evening will end with her in a prison cell or the cage.

She curtsies without lifting her eyes from the floor, "As you say, Your Imperial Highness."

I contemplate my own face, the beginnings of the wrinkles smoothed out into unnatural flatness by the custom powder House of Akilah delivered just last week. It matches my skin tone perfectly, as they promised it would. "Do you think I look beautiful?"

"Of course you do, Your Imperial Highness!" She lifts her arm to her mouth as if she couldn't as much as think of the possibility of me not being the perfect beauty she just proclaimed me to be.

"What was your name again?" I snap my fingers, digging through my memories. I always make a point of learning their names. It makes dismissing them that much more personal. "Ah, Cassidy. Being able to command armies with one wave of a hand is so much more... interesting than being beautiful. You should try it sometimes." I check the other cheek, satisfied with the hint of rose on my pale skin. It's funny how much more popular pale skin became since I ascended to the throne.

"At the same time," I get up and the silky fabric flutters around the back of my thighs. "It helps when I can play it up for the envoys," I wink at her. "Men are inclined to be much more patient and forgiving with a pretty face than an ugly one."

"As you say, Your Imperial Highness," she repeats mechanically. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have the ability to follow my reasoning right now. Maybe I should try to reign my temper in a little with the staff. It's a third maid this week, after all.

"Leave," I command before I send her to the reformatory for being irrationally scared.

She scuttles toward the door as if I were a tiger bent on eating her alive, not a woman barely ten years older than herself. Why can't they find me a decent servant anymore? Does bravery no longer exist now that the revolution is over?

I cross my dressing room and slowly twirl in front of the oversized mirror with all its angles and crevices, designed to allow me to see myself in a way traditional mirror never would.

The thin, sleeveless coat hugs my torso and shows off my chest without being too obvious about it, while the frilly bottom reaches half way down my thighs, then shortens all the way to my hips in the front, a feminine touch designed to make me seem a little softer and yielding than I really am. The deep, rich purple of the fabric intensifies the green in my hazel eyes.

I catch a glimps of the TV screen behind me. The show is replaying the interview with president Matachi, the pretend head of the Orsino Republic. I wonder why they even bother putting a puppet up for the show when he has no real power to speak off. Besides, I've already seen the footage and the maid should've known enough to anticipate that. The mindlessness of the servants in general is rather frustrating.

Maybe I need to force the generals to train a couple of soldiers in the art of court service. I'm sure they'd do much better than the disorganized village girls, who spend entirely too much time thinking about their boyfriends and babies to really pay attention to the job.

Besides, I get along with men so much better than with women. I suppose it has something to do with the revolution and the way I ended up rebuilding the armies before I was old enough to marry. Too many hours spent in the command tent and not enough room to cultivate my feelings.

Too bad Gower, the master of ceremony, thinks it's unbecoming of a lady to be served by men in private.

He supposes it would send a wrong message to the all the prospective grooms we've been leading around by their noses for the last twelve years. I'm not entirely sure if they're expecting me to be a virgin; they will be disappointed if they do, but it's one image that needs to be kept up before it becomes too obvious that I don't intend to accept anyone's hand in marriage.

I straighten the simple circle of a crown on top of my head, my favorite one of the many the old emperor left behind in the palace safe. It was suggested I have a custom one made, one that personifies who I am as a ruler. I find that this one does just fine.

Maybe I will marry a soldier. They are used to following commands and wouldn't require much training to be molded into the prince consort. One day, when the advantage of being considered a marriage prospect is no longer needed.

"Your Imperial Highness?" A knock comes from the door, followed by the familiar voice of my chief advisor and closest counselor.

"Come in, Madoc!" I nod to my image, satisfied with the message it projects.

"Your Imperial Highness!" He bursts into the room, still breathless from the run up the stairs. He really needs to realize he isn't as young as he was when we chased the old Emperor down the palace stairs. "Prince Sion himself will be attending the banquet as a part of the Calina envoy!"

I turn back to the mirror and smooth away flyaway hair that somehow unwound from the thick braid that goes all the way around my head. "I see. Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

Anyone else would retreat, their shoulders round, worried about the punishment I would choose for their incompetence. Not Madoc, though. Madoc doesn't waste his time on agonizing over his own destiny, not until my own problems have been solved. That's why he's the only one who can hope to bring me news like this and come out unscathed.

His mirror image meets my eyes. "We only just found out, by accident too. A servant that returned from Calina's embassy a month ago recognized him while he was in with refreshments for the ambassador. He notified us immediately and we've verified his report at once. There wasn't time to ascertain the reason for the deception, but you should know he will likely be present at the gathering and might seek you out."

I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin. "Remind me, what do we have on His Royal Highness, Prince Sion?"

"Twenty-seven, the second son of King Octavio, spent most of his years in the library, very good at diplomacy with a penchant for adventure stories. That is, he prefers to read them rather than create his own."

Only years of practice prevent me from rolling my eyes. I'm not sure how they expect me to marry someone so unlike myself. He isn't even the crown prince, the third prize in a hat full of seconds.

"Well, then we'll just have to see what the purpose his little ruse was, won't we?" I smirk to myself. I've dealt with worse than a bookish prince, younger than me to boot.

"As you say, Your Imperial Highness," The corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. He's known me since before my father died and stood by my side while I rose through the ranks to the commander of the army. Formed the army, really. He knows what I've been through and he isn't worried about one daddy's boy, even if his daddy happens to be a king. "May I accompany you to the ballroom?"