Heir of the Gods

Ch. 6: A Most Unusual Request

Three days passed in slow, bitter fashion as Cassia fulfilled every responsibility and played every part she was expected to. 

The first day, she went to the small gathering her mother had planned—one of many she oversaw every year—meant to present the young nobility to the court, and to each other.

To her displeasure, Julianus was not in attendance, though she didn't dare inquire as to why. While the subtle tide of rumor was what she wanted, she knew there was very little standing between a gentle swell and a vicious riptide. 

She smiled politely and danced and ate and laughed merrily, because it was either that or be asked repeatedly why she was so sullen. To her mother, court was nothing more than a string of parties to be planned, enjoyed and recovered from.

If it wasn't a party it was some other small function, full of decadent self-importance and hopeful young men.

The party lasted a day and well into the night.

The second day, Cassia struggled valiantly through a pounding headache despite the fact that she had drunk very little. She slipped into a court session, listening to the judiciary debate law and decide punishments until the strange, nearly startled glances from the men of the bench became more than her temper could handle.

Still, it was a weekly ritual she subjected herself to as she tried to stay abreast of the ever-changing laws and policies of the empire. She made her way briskly to her rooms, recording what she had heard, pondering over it as she decided which laws were worth keeping and which shouldn't even be discussed. 

Her father had levied more taxes on the Mortanian province.

That same day she sat quietly through a history lesson with her tutor—one revolving around the female Heirs before her, all of whom had abdicated to a male sibling, supposedly as dictated by the gods. She spent the lesson vacillating between wondering if her father had been somehow responsible for this and daydreaming about the golden skin of Julianus' muscular chest. 

It was a subtle agony, she had learned, to want to be touched—held—in the way Julianus had touched her, to know there was someone willing to do just that, and be unable to indulge in that person.

The third day, Malitech left for Mortania amid a crowd of red-and-gold liveried guards holding flags and standards. There was much pomp and circumstance as Cassia stood beside her father upon the threshold of the castle, as he and her mother bid Malitech luck and glory.

Cassia finally caught a glimpse of Julianus that day. He was standing in a shadow cast by the castle wall, leaning heavily on a crutch. His eyes were dark and hooded as he watched the prancing horses and jovial crowds, and she wondered if he could taste war on the wind as he slowly turned and hobbled back into the castle.

The send-off turned into a rally of sorts, the city celebrating their king, his Heir and the empire that had stood for centuries. Cassia had stayed by her father's side, and he'd had too much to drink by the time the politicians and lords had started speaking of strategy to worry about shooing her from the conversations at hand.

Such a rare opportunity had left her with an eclectic knowledge of the Mortanian landscape and several burning questions on the guerilla tactics of the Brunian warriors. It had also resulted in her staying up until the sun had peeked through the windows of her father's meeting hall and the nobility had ambled to bed.

A lazy day at the castle would be in order.

Cassia snatched a few hours of sleep, only waking when a western sun peered into her rooms. Shafts of soft sunlight danced through the thick red curtains as she lounged in bed, pleasantly drowsy still.