The Emperor's Edge

The Emperor's Edge Ch. 20 Pt. 2

Amaranthe stared at the floor, almost wishing she hadn’t asked. This meant Raumesys had left no true heir. Sespian’s claim to rule was only through his mother and therefore no better than a dozen others. If anyone found out, nothing short of civil war would follow. Bloody years of infighting in which the empire’s copious enemies could strike while the soldiers were distracted choosing sides and fighting each other. In the end, some jaded old general, some vague relation of Raumesys’s, would end up in power. Little chance of the next emperor having any of Sespian’s tolerance or progressive passion. She imagined some contemporary of Hollowcrest’s on the throne and felt sick. Though it might make her a traitor to the empire, she would take this secret to her funeral pyre.

She turned her attention to Sicarius, feeling a guilty twinge that her first thoughts had been political. “Hollowcrest obviously didn’t know. Sespian doesn’t either, does he?”

A minute shake of the head confirmed this.

“If you told him, he’d probably abdicate the throne,” Amaranthe said, sure the emperor’s conscience would trouble him into that route. “But perhaps you two would have a chance for...something, a relationship. From my brief meetings with him, I got the feeling Sespian has led a lonely life.”

“He has. Thrusting this knowledge into it would not improve matters. He has read my records. He knows everyone I tortured and killed for Raumesys and Hollowcrest. And since. He’s the one who put the bounty on my head. I am likely the only person in the world he truly wants dead.”

“You might...”

Might what, Amaranthe? What are you going to suggest he do? Change? Repent his cold-hearted assassin ways? Mourn for those he’s killed? Become someone Sespian might admire? Be agoodperson? Sicarius might not scoff out loud, but surely that would be his mental reaction. He was too pragmatic to give up his system, however callous, for something less effective. That he cared for his son did not mean he felt any concern for people in general. Asking him to change would accomplish nothing.

“You might find it easier to protect Sespian if you were at his side,” was all she said.

“That was my plan once. But I underestimated his...idealism. He would not employ a killer, even to his benefit. I should have foreseen that.”

Amaranthe smiled gently. “It is difficult to understand those who are least like ourselves.”

Sicarius twitched an eyebrow. “You understand me.”

“Hm.”

She laid out the medical supplies on the bench, filled a bucket with clean water, and sat behind him. The wounds must have stung, but Sicarius did not flinch when she washed them. She picked up the needle and considered the task before her. It would be better to find a surgeon to sew up the gashes, but she did not know where to look in this neighborhood at this time of night. Anyway, a part of her liked the idea of being the one to help him. He had saved her life a number of times over the last two weeks, and now she could do something for him.

She slid her hand across his back. Surprisingly, no other scars marred his flesh. Even relaxed, his muscles were like steel, each distinct and delineated beneath warm skin. Sicarius looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. She blushed and bent to thread the needle. Medics probably weren’t supposed to ogle their patients.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have some wicked scars,” Amaranthe said.

“I’ll survive,” he said.

“A little soon to say that. You haven’t felt the prod of my inexperienced needle yet.”

“Surely as an enforcer, you’ve had combat medic training.”