Treacherous Witch

36. Empire Building

"The great project of empire is always infrastructure. As the reach of the Empire expanded, the same questions prevailed: How to link up such vast areas? How to move people, goods, ideas? How to maintain supply chains? And above all, how to maintain control in even the most distant territories?"
Clement Pyridge's History of Our Glorious Empire, Vol. II

The preparations for their trip to Bolebund took place in secrecy and in haste.

As Valerie embroidered the finishing touches to Lord Avon's jacket—she'd been given very little time to weave his invisibility spell—Priska entered her chambers and cleared her throat.

"Lady Ophelia is here to see you, ma'am."

She looked up, breaking her concentration. Ophelia approached, hands clasped in front of her, and offered a tremulous smile.

"Lady Valerie. I hope I'm not being terribly intrusive?"

"No, not at all." She left the needle and thread in her lap. "How are you?"

"Alive, thanks to you. I wanted to say so at the party, but my brother whisked you away... Thank you." Ophelia shook her head, her eyes big and sincere. "It seems like such an inadequate word for saving my life. You must know that I'm so grateful. James too."

Valerie looked at her but sensed no guile. Which meant Avon hadn't told her about Valerie's part in the attempted poisoning. Ophelia believed only that she had saved her life.

"Those of us who are blessed," she said, "we try to use our gifts to help others. I'm only sorry I didn't sense it in time to save Lord Silver."

Ophelia nodded. "We are all aware of the danger. I think James would send me back to Drakon if he could, but..."

"Your suitors. How are they?"

"One of them backed out after the dinner. I hope I shan't get a reputation as a poisoned chalice." She smiled. "There is another who seems promising. I'll tell you all about him when you return. And you must tell me if the sands at Caphika are as white as they claim."

This was their cover story. Officially, she and Avon were travelling to Caphika, a small island to the south. The Drakonian nobility loved it as a private retreat.

"Of course," said Valerie.

She thought their conversation was coming to a natural end, but Ophelia lingered. She glanced around the queen's room in a strangely furtive manner before taking another step closer.

"Valerie... May we have a moment in private?"

She indicated Priska, who was watching quietly in the background. Valerie nodded, surprised, and waved her hand to dismiss the maidservant. As soon as Priska had gone, Ophelia shuffled her feet, her puffy gown rustling around her.

"James told me where you're going," she began. "I suppose it was silly of me to think that marriage would be enough when the resistance is so fierce in the north."

Valerie frowned. She set aside the jacket and her work tools on the table, standing up to take Ophelia's hands. "It's not your fault if they didn't tell you."

"No, but... James worries about me, but I worry about him too." Ophelia sighed. "Valerie, can you... Can you protect him?"

Her eyes widened. For a moment she was speechless. "I..."

"My brother is too proud to ask, I'm sure. But you'll be by his side?"

"I'll be by his side," she said.

"Do you promise?"

She hesitated. A priestess keeps their promises. She understood now why that was, the delicate shift of relationships that underpinned her power. She'd made the mistake of breaking her deal with Avon and placed herself further in his debt as a result. It would be unwise to do the same thing with Ophelia.