The next moment Cetlali became aware she heard a harsh grumbling she didn't understand.
She shot up, tired eyes forcing themselves to alertness until she stared straight ahead. From her perch on her creaking chair, she watched Lovou snort himself awake.
Despite her thrumming heart, she smiled at the sight. Errant hands wiped at his face. Long legs stiffened in a stretch before he popped right up, elbows thumping on his bent knees with a shudder. He looked up as if he didn't expect her to be there. He squinted his eyes into a glare as he turned towards her window with a sense of severe ire. She joined his focused stare and realized the room was edging into a grey light.
Dawn.
Cetlali let out a strenuous yawn, her body aching to be stretched. She groaned a bit as she
reached her arms high above her head. Her back arched until a delightful popping got things back into place. The sensation pulled out an uncontrollable squeal that shook her like a tuning fork. She let herself deflate into the chair with a pleased hum before opening her eyes.
She realized far too late that Lovou's odd stare focused on her.
He startled when he realized her eyes were on him and stood. "I should be going. Make sure Ovar and all his poxy brigands are out of this shit hole. And maybe I'll get a single damned moment of peace."
Cetlali grimaced, feeling a well of rising remorse for causing him so much trouble. She stood after him, shaking out her hair, running her hands through. She walked him to the door, preoccupied with guilt. Once she opened it, he stepped out without a glance back. She wanted to speak of her gratitude before he stormed off. She wanted to thank him for saving her from Ovar, for saving Embla and Bihotz from being attacked, and for sleeping outside her door and keeping her safe. He
shocked her by spinning to face her before her words came out. Towering over her, he stood much closer than he had been, but he remained deadly silent.
"Thank you!" She blurted, staring up at him, feeling lost in his scowl. She wondered why his features had to be so hard when his eyes were so gentle.
"Cetlali, I —," Lovou grimaced as he began, his tone breathless and hesitant. His hands twitched in front of hers, clasping at her lower abdomen, fidgeting as usual.
The sound of footsteps came careening around the corner. Lovou took an abrupt step backwards as Xocthl came into sight. Her feet stuttered and slid to a stop when she saw them there in the open doorway. She frowned and strolled forward, curious. She took in the rumpled form of Cetlali, very much half dressed. Lovou stood rooted three feet away from her like a hundred-year-old tree.
"You come to tell her the news?" Xocthl asked Lovou, narrowed eyes trailing him up and down before she looked at Cetlali again.
Cetlali yawned, but responded before Lovou could, "He's just come to tell me Ovar is riding out of the keep as we speak on an errand for the realm." She smiled at Xocthl, "Are there more good tidings?" Lovou was still stiff standing there, but his gaze traveled to hers with a slight scowl for the effortless lie.
"Whatever..." Xocthl regarded them and eventually rolled her eyes. "The Emperor is dead."
"Eraughn?" Cetlali squeaked in shock.
"No," Xocthl insisted with a sigh, "Emperor Vahaugn."
Cetlali's eyes went wide with shame. She'd forgot about the deteriorating Sovereign. "Oh, no!" She tried to sound adequately beleaguered and not like she had already considered him dead. He'd been unresponsive for weeks.
"Aye..." Xocthl nodded with a restrained a smile at the unsuccessful attempt. "The council is gathering as we speak. Ezren wishes for your presence. Now. Yours too," she pointed at Lovou.
Cetlali nodded and turned to go back into her room. She stopped herself, looking back at Xocthl, "Will you be taking me to him too?"
Xocthl nodded.
Cetlali turned to Lovou, and her gaze softened. Her words bled genuine as she said them, "Thank you for ensuring my safety." He nodded at her. She retreated into the rooms and shut the door on them.
"So..." Xocthl started with a long and cautious lean against the wall.
"Don't fucking start —," Lovou snarled, but Cetlali whipped open her door with a severe look of discombobulation.
"I'm so sorry! Come, wait in my solar while I change." Rushing away, she left her door open.
Frazzle-brained, she headed straight towards her bedroom and shut herself in.
Xocthl sauntered through the door, the image of nonchalance whistling as she glanced around. Lovou followed with stomping feet.
He tried to keep his seething to himself, fighting his urge to slam the door behind him.
He ignored the chittering murmurs of Cetlali coming from her bedroom all the way down the hall. She reasoned with herself as she was wont to do when stressed.
He focused on Xocthl who stood by the table now. Her vantage position was amid two chairs facing each other. Visible in plain sight were the basket in the center of the tabletop, food on one side but not the other. Two cups sat out with a pitcher between them. Lovou grabbed the chair he had occupied earlier, pulling it away from the table and adjusting it as he pleased before he sat down. He acted his heart out, pretending he hadn't just been there.
Xocthl sat down in the chair Cetlali had been in. With curious eyes above her slight grin, she wriggled a bit as she spoke. "Seat's still warm."
Lovou didn't reply, other than a slight gnashing of teeth.
Xocthl sighed loud as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "So you came to let her know Ovar was gone?"
"Aye." Lovou barked with restraint.
"That's quite gallant of you to inform her of that so fast. Uroxem is just breaking over the horizon." Xocthl sat back in her chair and ran an idle finger along the edge of the table. "You watch him ride off?"
Lovou sucked on his teeth, scowling at Xocthl. His tone was glaringly droll. "Of course. I bid him farewell with a kiss, a wave, and a favor like any brother would." His snarl dripped with menace. "He's gone, isn't he?"
Xocthl grinned halfway and confirmed it for him, "Aye, he's gone."
Lovou grumbled, feeling a tightness in his chest at Xocthl's wicked tone. She had a pesky habit of jumping to conclusions and indulging in suppositions. He didn't quite care about any ideas people entertained about himself. He'd heard them all, often catered to them, and wasn't about to let Cetlali's dignity get besmirched by yet another Tate. Lovou was not his brother and he would never let himself be.
"When did the Emperor die?" Lovou asked, vying for distraction.
Xocthl looked off, giving an absent scratch at her jaw. "During the waning hours of Oolmaya, between kheirgeon shifts. Ezren received the news right before dawn. Called for you first, but you were nowhere to be found."
Lovou repressed the urge to growl. He had gone to Ezren's rooms after he'd gotten Cetlali somewhat settled, told him she wasn't coming on account of another menacing at the hands of
Ovar. It'd taken him some time to keep Ezren from losing his temper. Lovou had been impatient, blood up and still a bit too drunk.
He'd tamed the wild old fool and keep him from trying to disturb her, at least. Ezren should have known Lovou would hesitate to leave her alone after what happened. That was part of his job. "Ovar went after Cetlali again last night." Xocthl perked up at that, eyes sharp.
"I arrived before it got worse."
"I heard Joseff got injured last night." Xocthl smiled like she had a secret. "I seem to remember something about a Kpinga impaling his hand to his flank. I kept tryin' to remember who I know that uses such a blade..."
"Would have gotten him right in the gut if I wasn't pissed as shit." Lovou growled out with a sense of thoughtfulness.
"I also heard about a corpse with his head crushed in, plus someone cracked one side of his ribs straight into his lungs." Xocthl sniffed with amusement, "All that was you making it not-worse?"
Lovou leveled Xocthl with a severe glare,
"You know exactly how Ovar likes to make things worse."
Xocthl stiffened and nodded. Lovou's words sunk in her gut like a stone. "Aye, I do." After a moment, she continued with the rest at a casual pace, "So... you rescued Cetlali —,"
"I didn't rescue —," the displeasure was obvious in his tone.
Xocthl shut him up with a look as she kept talking, "— From Ovar and his troupe. Then you returned her to her rooms... And?"
Lovou glared at Xocthl, "Are you my nursemaid now? Hers?"
Xocthl gave an animated shrug of
disinterest. "Oh-ho, no, you two are both consenting adults. I'm just curious as to why I didn't see you slinking back to your rooms, that's all."
"Couldn't sleep." He bit it out on a rasp.
"Not with the sort of threats Ovar made. I won't underestimate him, not like every other fucking sack of giblets in this hellhole." His growl was low and firm. "Not with the risk it is to her."
"Oh?" Xocthl replied, sounding elated. She could recall how Lovou had insisted to Ezren that Cetlali have a personal guard while his brother remained at the Citadel. There weren't too many obvious insistences that it should be him, but the truth was indisputable. Ovar did fear Lovou, to an extent. He saw his brother as a formidable enough opponent to give pause.
Xocthl wouldn't forget the firm insistence in Lovou's tone when speaking to Ezren about Cetlali's safety. She'd never heard him talk like that before — with such alarming sincerity beneath the snarls.
"Now..." Xocthl opined, likely eager to dig deeper into the depths of Lovou's overt protectiveness.
Cetlali came stumbling out of her room with rushed feet. A thick braid of twists hung over one shoulder like a ruby sash down her side.
She was wearing a deep olive green tunic fitted to her arms and waist, tucked into plum purple skirts hanging limp around her legs. A perfect dour outfit for mourning.
The look of her made Lovou feel stunned for a long, blank moment. He stiffened. Senses returning, he noticed she had inadvertently dressed in his clan colors. They were clan colors he shared with an unfortunate someone else. In Ovar's eyes, he would see this move as an encouragement. Lovou almost protested, demanding she change. However, Ovar was gone and Cetlali's lovely skin looked quite luminous in those colors. The bold crimson of her hair contrasted with the vibrancy of her clothes, and she looked so beautiful. Even the light of the Great Star arose to adorn her like a cloak of resplendence. She looked ethereal. He bit his tongue, just this once.
"Ready," Cetlali smiled, breathless as she flipped her hair back over her shoulder, making
her neck look long and elegant. Her shoulders, broad and strong, appeared positively regal.
An errant moment passed. Lovou half imagined what it might be like to drape his cloak around such shoulders. Brush his fingers along her neck as they walked along the dark sands of their homeland on a crisp autumn night. That was when the wind and waves were wildest beneath the full face of Oolmaya. He was sure Cetlali would enjoy such a sight.
Clearing his throat, Lovou stood, Xocthl watching him with an amused smirk twitching on her lips.
"We should go," he insisted, voice rough.
"Right." Cetlali nodded, looking at Xocthl,
"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," Xocthl grinned and stood.
She approached Cetlali and offered her an arm.
"If you'd do me the honor, love."
"Love?" Lovou blurted, punctuated by the sound of his gauntlets creaking into fists.
Cetlali replied to Lovou with an amused cock to her eyebrow, "She calls me that all the time."
"Aye, I do," Xocthl grinned as Cetlali sidled up next to her. She wrapped their arms together with delicate precision.
As they proceeded towards the exit, Xocthl looked over at Lovou with a challenging amusement in her eyes. They stepped into the hall and Xocthl engaged Cetlali in conversation. Lovou trailed, cursing the day Xocthl was born, for there had never been such an insufferable, meddlesome woman.
The entire city rang with mourning bells from dawn until dusk. The new widow, Rocha, draped herself in black. As did Eraughn and sweet Athua at his side, doing her best to comfort the grieving clan the Emperor left behind. Masha and Zoya stayed by Sivoy's side.
There was obvious grief behind his wet eyes, clenched jaw, and shaking hands. To lose his long-time friend was devastating, no matter
how occasionally frivolous an Emperor he had been.
Cetlali spent most of her time at Ezren's side. He touched her more than other days.
Fingers stroked over her knuckles. He stood close, wrapping her hand around his arm, likely seeking comfort. Though she didn't really have an ounce of affection for the old Emperor, she felt for those he left behind. Though the sensations caused by being immersed in grief made her feel overwhelmed.
Ezren had little niceties to say about their previous ruler. Though his appointment to Eraughn's advisory team was advantageous enough to keep him silent since then. She still wasn't quite sure his fidgeting against her had anything to do with sadness. But she stayed with him, attending as usual to his needs. He spent most of his day in the Citadel Elect chamber, hashing things out with the new advisory team.
Cetlali had been relieved to see Athua in that group. Interaction got limited to friendly
kisses on the cheek and compassionate gazes. It was worth it to Cetlali to see her future Empress in action, though. She spoke up for her Emperor when he couldn't himself. Though Eraughn never acted attached to his father, it seemed the finality of grief was not something he could deny.
Ezren was quick to shut the meeting down, claiming that they all needed time and rest to mourn the passing of their Emperor.
Immediate preparations would need to be made for the transition of power. Eraughn was going to depend on Ezren to arrange it all, which meant Cetlali would be required to take part as well.
Ezren decreed that after an appropriate time of mourning, they would anoint Eraughn with Athua in a joint coronation and marriage ceremony. That small joy seemed to smooth out most of the tension in the room. They arranged for another meeting in three days' time. One day for planning, the next for the entombment, and another day to rest in their grief before the Empire needed to be prioritized.
Cetlali had been so preoccupied by everything bombarding her, she'd had not paid any dedicated attention to her surroundings.
Not until they escorted her into Ezren's chambers. She shocked herself into cognizance, staring down at Ezren's desk inside his study.
He'd left out yet another scroll, this one stained with the umber and maroon wax of his own house. Her scowl bent in wonder, curious why Caran might have sent him a missive.
Cetlali heard shifting behind her, and fear gripped her chest tight. She spun around, seeing Lovou standing on the outside of the door as Ezren entered. Her wide eyes met Lovou's for just a beat before the door shut.
She swallowed past her terror as he stalked forwards and eclipsed her. Flashes of dismay were twitching past the desperation with which she clung to her calm. Her hands were aching to shake. She needed to be rid of the horrific sensation of remembering. Hopefully, it wouldn't be long before she started to not feel anything at all.
Ezren was in front of her, towering there.
Much more threatening at the moment than Ovar ever seemed to be. He watched her as he approached his velvet farthingale chair, situating himself to comfort. She stood in front of his desk a few steps away, almost in tears.
Turning to face Ezren, she forced herself to remain impassive. It was time to embrace the encroaching emptiness. She became
inordinately preoccupied by the fact Lovou was right outside the door. Her heart hammered in her chest and the emptiness halted. She was desperate to shut everything out before she humiliated herself and forced him to bear witness to her shame.
She'd done her best to learn to be discreet in her time with Ezren. But the pain was not always tolerable, physical or emotional.
Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she wished to be spared. The terror was a far more tangible finality than the fake or indifferent gods who ignored her desperate invocations.
Her eyes almost fully glazed over as she stared at the door. With her last ounce of will, she wished for something to happen. Anything at all. The door seemed like the only thing she could focus on. Cetlali knew she'd need to try harder to not be so so fearful, not be so affected by disgust because of what was coming. She couldn't stop it, either. Why anyone considered forgiveness as so necessary in life, she didn't know. It was such a cruel and fickle thing.
Cetlali had been asking such a question for many years and never found an answer. By now, she figured it was too late to even bother.
She had other concerns on her mind and even fewer options.
With the last thought still tethered to that genuine spark inside of her, she had to decide which was worse: Ezren or Ovar.
Most times, she was sure it was Ovar.
"You and I have much to discuss." Ezren's tone tore through her dissociation. His voice was lace and iron. "Kneel."
As she knelt at Ezren's feet, Cetlali realized this sort of prolonged suffering compared to the promise of instant obliteration might not be the better option. Ezren's brand of forgiveness was becoming a slower and vastly more tortuous death.