Domi did not know what to make of palace life.
"It is not really palace life, Basilicus," Bellus told him after the mindholder and Peritia finished using training trances to coach Domi through Brightening and the rains that first day after his fever relented. "It's... solitude life."
"What's that?" Domi asked and grimaced as the sound of a cleared throat drifted out of the sauna shadows. "What is that?"
He hated Comitas already, even just three days after meeting his annoying nag of a stalker. Even Bellus shortened words like Domi did, and Domi thought he remembered the Rex himself using contractions during public observances, so he didn't know where Comitas got the idea that he sounded uneducated if he said "what's" or "I'll" instead of "what is" or "I will".
"Right now, Basilicus, you're registered in the Compendium as undertaking the Rite of Solitude," Bellus explained as Domi tried to stand still and not squirm or fidget. He didn't understand either why he needed Peritia's help slipping his paenula back in place over his tunica now that he'd brought Brightening and the rains. Comitas said it was undignified for a Princeps to dress himself, but wasn't it more undignified to have people put his clothes on him like some bratty babe in clouts? "And while you are in solitude, you won't have as many duties as you will during a normal day here in the palace."
"Yeah, what kind of duties?" He corrected himself even before he heard Comitas's cleared throat. "Yes, I mean. Eter--erm."
Hedera had made him stay in bed all day yesterday, and Comitas used the opportunity to provide Domi with a list of "one hundred words to eliminate from your vocabulary, Basilicus" to study while he rested. "Yeah" and "taking the Eternal Radiance's name in vain" were both high on the list.
He was pretty sure the protocol handler was the real Princeps here, not him. All she or anyone else did so far was tell him what to do.
"Well," Bellus said as Peritia straightened Domi's paenula with one more tug, "there are your sorcerous duties, your religious duties, your political duties, and as you are still a child, your educational duties, Basilicus."
Domi didn't like the sound of that. Weren't royals supposed to lounge around on thrones all day, lording it over others? All that stuff sounded like work.
And the reference to religious duties made his heart pound in his chest, causing the Trellis to flash a hazy gold above the clouds and the misty rain. The looming Cultus sermon was only four days away and he certainly was no better at writing or reading just because he now lived in a palace.
"I'm not a child," he said, more to push the nerve-wracking thought of the approaching sermon aside than because he truly disagreed.
Peritia chuckled. "Best of luck convincing anyone of that until you're Valens's age, Basilicus," she said, taking one last critical look at his clothing before nodding in satisfaction. "When most Lightholders live as long as the Rex, everyone sees youth as childhood."
Domi frowned at the weird statement, nodding his thanks to Bellus as the man opened an umbrella and handed it to him. "How old is the Rex?" The man was ancient, probably in his eighties. Most Pullati died by sixty at best. It seemed unfair.
"One hundred fifty this year."
Domi could only stare at her, earning a confused look in return. "I'm sorry," he said, sure he must have misheard. He ignored Comitas's swift correction. If she wanted to nag, she could stop lurking in shadows. "Can you repeat that?"
"One hundred fifty?" Peritia asked, puzzled. She studied his widening eyes. "What is it, Basilicus?"
"Is it because Princeps Oliva helps him?" he asked. Eyes devour, it must be magic, or the Rex would be a withered corpse atop the throne.
She tilted her head. "Helps him what?"
"Not die," Domi said, exasperated. What the heck did they think he meant? "He should have died years ago."
Bellus and Peritia exchanged glances. But it was Comitas, stepping out from the towel room, who spoke. "Basilicus, most Lightholders live to one hundred fifty years. Some of us even make it to two hundred, but that is rarer."
"Eyes devour," Domi breathed, and for once the protocol handler did not correct him.
<>
He'd enjoyed a full week of rest, and still, the Princeps Lifeholder looked like she'd swallowed a lemon.
Domi nibbled his lip as Oliva and Hedera exchanged glances. The royal's headshake had his heart sinking. "I must say that it baffles me, Promerenti," the Princeps said.
He eyed her, curiosity warring with unease. Was she in her mid-seventies, as she seemed? Or closer to the Rex's age?
There was something weird about her face, too. Something...
"Yes, Basilicus?" Hedera asked. It was the meekest Domi had seen his new avia and royal physician behave all week. He didn't buy it.
"I am no Trellis expert," Oliva said, "for all that I draw power from it. But I do not think that the artifact should still be wearing on him this much. I do not blame you, Promerenti; I am aware of your skill. It is just a puzzle." She sighed and shook her head as though to shake off bad thoughts. "However, though there is not as much progress as I had hoped, he is doing better. I think it is safe to let him leave solitude, slowly, but his handlers should have a care not to overwhelm him." She smiled down at Domi, but her gray eyes looked worried.
Gray eyes... Something... Domi squinted at her. The strange sense of familiarity gnawed at him.
"If I may, Basilicus?" Hedera asked politely. Domi resisted the urge to snort. She had not bothered to ask for his permission for anything, whether to speak or force him to drink this medicine or eat that weird night-side flower.
The Princeps nodded. "Of course. I value your thoughts."
Hedera glanced at the window, where the Trellis glowed with the faintest of flickers. Domi sort of liked them; they made the lattice look like golden glitter against the violet sky. "I am beginning to think we just were lucky that first month of his reign," his avia said. "He is, after all, very young, Basilicus. When was the last time a fourteen-year-old became Princeps?"
"I'm fifteen," he reminded them. It was a tenth the Rex's absurd age, but still. He was not some kid.
"Of course, Basilicus," Hedera said, her heavy gaze warning him to be careful. "But you were fourteen when you inherited the Trellis."
He stilled, swallowing. Of course. She meant when Dae became Princeps, not him. Eyes devour, had that really been only a month ago? He could not believe how much had changed in so little time. One month ago Daedalus had been crowned Princeps Worldholder and Domi had been trying to convince the Dyer to sell him a laurel. Nothing was the same...
The Dyer... Domi felt his eyes widen.
"Are you related to Aix?" He blushed as she arched a brow at him. Eternal Radiance, he had just insulted her. Why would a Princeps know, let alone be related to a random backwater lifeholder? And an impure one at that?
"How do you know Aix, Basilicus?" Oliva asked.
Domi felt the blood drain from his face as he realized his mistake. He could think of no reason at all why Daedalus Adurere, a royal living in Vola Apertus, would know an impure lifeholder almost four thousand miles away in Urbs Hostiae.
"Aix," Hedera murmured, her voice casual. She met his eyes, held his gaze. "Is that the scholar you summoned, Basilicus? The older Trueborn from Provincia Sicarii?"
Relief left him feeling weak. "Yes," he said, finally remembering the excuse Comitas crafted. "He is here in the palace, Basilicus," he added, nodding to Oliva. "I brought him onto my Blightlands advisory team. He's a scholar who knows his stuff." He paused. Dae would not say it like that. "A researcher of great renown."
Oliva snorted. "A known heretic, you mean." She chuckled at Domi's wide-eyed look. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Basilicus. His unorthodox interests may be just what you need to find a solution to the Blightlands."
"So you do, ah, know him?" Domi asked, trying to be polite.
Oliva patted his hand. "Basilicus, it is alright to say it. Comitas is not here to scold you. Yes, Aix is my illegitimate kinsman. And the Rex's as well. It is not a great secret, child, don't look so scared. We just do not speak of it often. It is an embarrassment to both families."
Domi smiled, feeling sheepish. "Sorry. I did not mean to stick my nose in your family's business, Basilicus. It is just that you two do look a bit alike."
She nodded. "Aix is my brother's grandson. And also the Rex's sister's grandson. Do you understand?"
"Oh. Yes." Starholders only wed and had kids with other starholders. Domi was sure the restriction was doubly true for the royal family. And Oliva's sister was no starholder, he was sure. But how had a child of both royal families ended up with an impure worldholder kid our in Provincia Sicarii?
The Princeps Lifeholder chuckled at something she saw in his expression. "Yes, it was a bit of a scandal, as you can imagine. Aix's mother was sent away to Provincia Sicarii and fostered within the Praetor's household. There are ancient ties between the Rex's family and Silvula Salutis curia. Then she married a common worldholder, and well..."
"Aix," Domi said, grinning. Then he remembered something she had said. "Wait, his mother is your niece?" He stared, rapidly reevaluating her age. "Just how old are you?"
Hedera looked aghast, but Oliva just chuckled dryly. "Now that is a bit rude to ask, Basilicus, even if Comitas is not here to scold."
<>
Domi eyed the promenia hovering around him, his belly fluttering with nerves. Outside the odeon windows, the Trellis sparkled. It was beautiful, but it was supposed to be steady, not glittering in response to his anxiety.
He sucked a deep breath down into his belly as Valens had taught him, trying to calm himself. It did not help.
The promenia, Comitas had explained, was painting the likeness of his face within the Caeles for anyone who wanted to watch his public appearance. But though millions of people were likely seeing him right now, he could thankfully not see them.
Alas, the same wasn't true of the people here in the odeon. Below the dais where he stood, about two hundred Promethidae stared up at him in all their finery, watching him. Ogling him.
He wondered if their fancy bejeweled paenulas felt as heavy as his own. At least they didn't have to wear the onyx crown and tri-braid too. His scalp stung from the tight hairstyle and his head hurt from the hard and slightly pointy platinum crown, which was studded with black jewels that glittered like his worldholder laurel.
Radix had nigh drooled over all the finery as they'd helped him dress. The two of them had shared a good laugh over how much coin the Appraiser would give for the lot of it at the pawnshop back home.
Domi wasn't laughing now. The Appraiser could bloody have all of it, and the stupid Throne of Solitude too.
In the shadow of an enormous white column across from him, Comitas met his eyes and inclined her head.
Domi swallowed. It was time.
His fingers stuck to the pages of the paper on the pulpit before him, sweaty. Gross. He cleared his throat, peering down at the words Fons had prepared for him.
He focused on the first word. That one was easy, as were the next few after it. He recognized them on sight and didn't have to sound them out.
"You have all seen it," he read. He knew he should probably look up from the crisp white paper at the worshippers below, but if he did that, he'd lose his place and his nerve. "It warms our world. It shines in our sky. I speak of the Trellis, of course."
The next word was harder. He squinted, trying to keep his lips from moving as he studied one letter at a time. His heart pounded in his chest until the letters became sounds. "Behold."
His voice rang in the sacred hall, awkward as he struggled to make out the next bit. It soon resolved into something that made sense, the words familiar after years and years of listening to storytellers recite the Holy Ovidiana. "The Eternal Radiance gave us a miracle these past days. The Divine Light gave me the..." He frowned at the next word. Powder? No, that was wrong. "...the power to off... to offer a long Bright... Brightening in its mercy."
If he had not been so nervous, he would have snorted at that. The extended Brightening hadn't been some gift from the divine. Hedera and Peritia had just decided it was healthier for Domi and the world if he skipped Dimming for a few days.
He licked his lips, eying the next part. "No matter how we err," he read, wincing at how long it was taking to spit out each word, "the Divine Light offs... offers mercy to those who truly re... reg..."
He frowned, feeling his cheeks heating at his pathetic struggles and at the sense of the words beginning to take shape in his mind. Was the sermon really saying what he thought it was saying? "...regret their wrongs. Our great sins have brought the Eternal Radiance's wra... wrath upon our lands. We saw that wrath these last few days. But..."
Eyes devour, yes, it really was saying exactly what he feared it was saying. He scowled down at the paper and then glanced up, shaking his head. "Sorry, I can't read this."
He heard a faint gasp from Comitas, and then she cleared her throat. Loudly.
He tried not to look at the protocol handler, instead peering at the confused observance crowd. The Trueborns shifted from foot to foot and glanced at each other in clear discomfort.
These people hadn't caused the disasters that had terrorized the world during the past few days. Domi had been the one to mess up the Trellis. He wasn't going to blame other people, especially any Pyrrhaei listening to him, for the horrible things they'd just been through because of him. No way.
But everyone was looking at him. Waiting. He forced an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I have been sick and my eyes are a bit strained." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I will just finish by saying that none of this is your fault or your neighbor's fault. The Eternal Radiance doesn't make us suffer but is with us in our suffering. It helps us get through the painful stuff. So trust in the Eternal Radiance and it will help you." He nibbled his lip, unsure how to finish, and flipped to the last page Fons had prepared. Squinting, he sounded out the words, then nodded. "May the Eternal Radiance bless us and may the Eyes pass over us."
He hurried away from the pulpit as fast as the heavy paenula allowed, trying not to think too hard about Comitas's tight grip on his upper arm.
She marched him through the onyx palace back to his bedchamber in stony silence and he scowled. What was she going to do about it? He was the Princeps, right? And it was his sermon to deliver, even if Fons wrote it.
"Wait here," she said through gritted teeth, pushing him into his room, "and think very hard about what you just did, Basilicus."
And with that she took her leave, the door closing behind her as quietly as ever. Yet Domi felt like she'd slammed it in his face as he found himself staring, baffled and uneasy, at the intricately carved wood.