Mark of the Empress | The Empire Saga #2

Chapter Ten

They didn't talk for what felt like hours, remaining in each other's arms, letting the tears of joy and mourning wash over them, taking in one another to make up for the years that had escaped them. Eventually his mother pulled away, wiping away the tears still on her cheeks, and she smiled at him while she held his face in her hands.

"You're staying for dinner. It's the least I can do for almost blasting your head off."

Treyan didn't argue and composed himself on the couch as she retreated to the kitchen.

His mother. Saratanya was alive.

How was this possible?

He had been young, but it was a time he'd never forget. Not soon after he was informed that he would one day be the Crown Prince with a Queen Empress of his own, his mother had fallen ill. No one knew what had caused the sickness other than his father's disappearance, and it was the duty of his mother's Mistresses to keep him and his brother occupied while the adults handled their business. The next thing he knew, his brother and he were hand-in-hand watching their mother being lowered into the royal crypt, sealed away forever. He must have been no older than six, now that he remembered it, but why was it so hard to recall any other details?

He looked up to catch his mother watching him from the doorway of the kitchen, a glass of red wine in each of her hands. She smiled as their eyes met, and he couldn't help but return it. She didn't look a day over thirty, and he'd have questioned it if not for the knowledge of what spending time within the Empire could do to a person.

Her smile dropped slightly, and he realized she must have misinterpreted his stare.

"I'm sure you have many questions," she stated as she placed a glass of wine on the coffee table in front of Treyan. "I, in turn, have many for you. I hope that's fair."

Treyan reached down for his glass. The wine looked like blood but smelled magnificent. He realized it was exactly what he needed. "Fair enough," he finally responded, wondering if he should be more reserved than he had been. She was his mother, of that there was no mistake. But would he actually be able to trust her and the explanations as to how she came to be here instead of buried within the crypts at the palace?

"Good." She nodded and returned to the kitchen. She didn't emerge again until dinner was ready—simple spaghetti and sauce with a side of garlic bread. Treyan realized he hadn't eaten all day, and the smell of the food made his stomach grumble.

She placed the plates on the coffee table in front of them. "Since the apartment is small enough as it is, I usually eat most of my meals here or standing up in the kitchen. I hope that's okay?"

"It's perfectly fine. Alex and I have two dining tables and I doubt we've ever actually eaten at either of them."

His mother smiled at the mention of his wife. "How is Alexstrayna?"

Treyan shot her a quick glance as he put a forkful of pasta in his mouth. For a moment he wanted to question how she knew about Alex enough to call her by her full name, but then he recalled that it was his mother who had come to Alex's rescue when she was on her deathbed, and ultimately saved her life. He took his time swallowing so that he could appropriately compose his response.

"She's good, very good in fact. Thanks to you."

She blinked but smiled. "So it was true—I wasn't entirely certain. I was happy to help, even if it was only through dream magic."

"That was how you did it?"

"I suppose so—but it wasn't on purpose, I can tell you that. I went to bed like I did every night, and the next thing I know I'm summoned to the high palace."