~Musings~

Oris didn't know how long she had been awake—or if she even truly was awake. Time held no meaning when she was surrounded by a void where even her breaths were unheard—if even she was still breathing.

Sometimes she was aware of silence so thick that she felt suffocated and realized that she couldn't move. She would struggle, and struggle, until the darkness pulled her under once again.

Sometimes it was the pain in her side that stirred her senses—it assured her that she was still alive. The realization calmed her. Pain was good, even if it was just a pinch, it meant that the drug was wearing off.

She was not dead yet and maybe still asleep.

A flash of Bren's beautiful smile had her fumbling to breathe only to realize that she was still, and had been still all along.

She remembered that she could not move. She could not chase after him. He was gone.

Sometimes she felt like screaming. She was able to feel tears slip down her face to wet her ears but she never knew why she cried.

Was it because of the pain? The frustration? Both?

She remembered the keys she had hidden in her bossom and wondered if anyone had found them. They would need to undress her to treat her wounds—or clean her corpse if it came to it.

If she died, what would become of Aella? Would Hermes rescue her himself, or would he pretend like she did not exist to save face for the current Empress Dowager?

Oris blamed Bren for putting her in this state despite knowing that letting her body rest would reduce how much blood she lost. He saved her life, but she hated this—she hated being so helpless.

He had bet her survival on Hermes' willingness to save her and that made her hate everything even more.

The sour emotion plagued Oris until she fell asleep—or whatever equivalent she was able to experience. There was a certain bitterness to being left behind in enemy territory by the man who had just been prepared to die for you.

When next she regained consciousness nothing had changed, but she felt as though cobwebs had been swept away from her mind.

With the newfound clarity, she found herself pondering—wondering whether beauty really was a criteria for a place in Hermes' harem.

She hadn't put much thought into it before because it was a quality most emperors demanded, and it was clearly stated on the summons she read that only beautiful women could enter the palace and vie for a place at his side.

But… she had been injured, scarred, no longer beautiful according to palace etiquette, no longer pure…

Why then had she still been targeted despite her obvious disfigurement?

She had not questioned this because she had been worried more about survival than anything. From the moment she had traded words with Hermes in the Great Hall till the moment she discovered that more than one person was trying to kill her, she had not had time to just sit down and process it all.

In dungeons, she had been concerned about nothing more than how to escape. Now though, she had no reason to keep putting the matter aside.

If beauty really was necessary to be one of Hermes' women, the Empress Dowager could have used the fact that she was scarred as a reason to depose her. It would have been simple, just, and would have attracted less suspicion.

But the royal didn't do that. She hadn't even seemed to consider it and had taken great risks instead, going as far as hiring an assassin and defying her son's authority just to have her head.

The only thing that made sense to Oris now was that beauty as a criteria was nothing but a ruse.

But if the women didn't need to be beautiful, why is it made compulsory?

Oris didn't know the answer to that question. When she felt that she could reach out and grasp it, she slipped deeper into the void and lost the epiphany.

Before they her thoughts went silent once again, the only thing she could think about was how the one who
would revive her was the man that had murdered her sister.

~

It took thirty minutes for Hermes to find the room Oris had been carried off to.

He—along with his private guards—had been all over the palace, chasing an assassin that seemed more phantom than human. They chased and chased, and ended up rounding up all the other intruders but him.

He was as elusive as a fae but remained just within their sight to tempt them to follow. It didn't take long for Hermes to realize that he was being played with, but there was little he could do about it.

The nun had to be found, alive.

So methodically, he followed every smear created by the blood dripping off the assassin's wounds, and he had been taken to a dead end, time and time again.

Hermes had been led around too many times and had almost given the order to disperse when his gaze fell on a door.

When he gave the order for the guard in front of him to open it, he hadn't expected to see the nun laying on the bed right in front of him, crimson hair splayed around her head to frame her peaceful expression.

The next thing his eyes found was the arrow buried in her side. Though she was not conscious, she had her hands on the wound. A copious amount of blood had dried over her fingers and her nails, dyeing them red.

Hermes frowned at that. He could not tell from here if she was still breathing.

He held up his hand to halt the guards behind him, but Mikeal charged into the room regardless.

He almost moved to pull him back but said nothing. He had neither the strength nor the will to chastise his brother for walking into what could very well be another trap.

When Mikeal gave the sign that the room was empty, Hermes sheathed his sword and gave his guards orders to disperse. They saluted and scattered into the hallway to navigate their way back to the dungeon and handle the prisoners there.

Hermes felt at ease now, knowing that the assassins were either dead or in chains. He was only lucky this time, to have been faced with foes that had no clear cut strategy. If this incident was repeated by a group of more experienced men like the last assassin, he would have succumbed to his injuries in the end if he wasn't behead first.

The stress made him feel like rubbing at his eyes but he refrained from doing so because of the blood that coated his hand—most of it his own.

The instant he turned to speak to Mikeal, Magnus arrived by the door and fell to one knee. The advisor held his right fist to his heart and kept his head bowed.

"I failed you," he said, sounding more sincere than Hermes had ever heard him.

Not even on the battlefield had the great Magnus Kane used such an apologetic tone, not even when he mercilessly sacrificed the lives of countless soldiers to secure a victory.

Even when the man had nearly ended Hermes' life himself, he hadn't—and still didn't—show remorse.

To see him abase himself, was the last thing Hermes had expected.

In the company of the two men closest to him, he finally let his tiredness and weariness show. The pain from the cuts and bruises mounted atop each other as he turned to Magnus, just like it had when he had been fighting to secure a place in his father's army.

"Stand." He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and grimaced when his knuckles came back bloody.

He gestured for the man to get to his feet when he stubbornly remained on his knee, and the both of them walked into the room together.

"How is she?" Hermes asked.

"Her pulse is weak but steady," his brother answered after a moment. "She was sedated."

"The arrow, it—" he continued to ask but was interrupted when Eugene burst through the door.

"Hermes, I… I—"

Without waiting for the rest of the sentence, the emperor pinned the archer to the wall behind them, his arm pressed against the man's throat. "You were trained by the best marksman in the nation, so I expect a very good explanation for why your bolt is currently inside a woman and not the assassin."

"Your Majesty." Magnus was immediately beside the two men. "He can't speak without being able to breathe. And from what I gathered of things, he was trying to save your life."

"I did not need saving." Hermes pulled away from Eugene when Magnus laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Two people in this room seemed to have thought otherwise," his advisor pointed out quietly.

"You mock your emperor openly."

"At least I hid my smile."

Hermes shrugged the man's hand off him and returned his gaze to the archer.

"We have trained together," Eugene started in a small voice, his emerald eyes rimmed red, "do you think I would take a shot I wasn't sure of? I let the bolt loose when I saw a clear opportunity. The nun was not there at the time."

"You are saying that she ran into it."

"I am saying that she was nowhere near you or the assassin when I pulled the trigger."

"Mikeal," Hermes turned to his brother, more annoyed than angry. "You were to take her out of the dungeons and lead her to safety. What were the two of you doing in that hallway?"

"It was the shortest path, and I had cleared it personally. I didn't expect a fight." Mikeal got to his feet and frowned. "I admit I am at fault. I should not have left her. I did not expect her to put herself between you and an assassin in such a short space of time."

"You left her for my sake," Magnus interjected with a strained smile. He had dislocated his shoulder and Mikeal had been there to set it aright.

He could not be blamed for doing so.

Hermes was silent for a moment and considered the situation carefully before he spoke again. "Eugene, you are to leave the palace immediately."

The man looked up then swiped at his moist lashes. He swallowed and nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Magnus on the other hand was inflamed. "Hermes, you are overreacting."

"Am I?" The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "I recall you saying many times that his presence hindered your ability to work. Now that this has happened, the court would appeal to have him punished, would you rather I do so?"

Magnus gritted his teeth and reached up to grasp his earring. "He just returned and has much to contribute, Your Majesty. Please reconsider."

Hermes drew his sword from its scabbard and propped up Eugene's head by his chin until their gazes met.

Magnus stiffened. "What are you doing?"

"Why are you so tense, Magnus?" Hermes chuckled then lowered the sword.

To Eugene, he said, "The emblem on the hilt of this sword is similarly placed on all the weapons used by the assassins. I do not recognize it."

He held the sword out to the man, this time so that he could take it. "I need you to use the network you have acquired as a merchant to track down the smith that crafted them. That is why you will be leaving the palace."

"You... You trust me to do this, Your Majesty?"

"We trained together, like brothers. The day I pull a sword on you, must be the day I have been possessed."

"Then why..."

"Haven't you always wanted to know what the great advisor of the emperor truly thought about you?" Hermes grinned. "Now you do."

Eugene swiped the sword from him and walked to Magnus' side, a grin wide enough to split his face in half adorning his lips. "So you do care for me."

Magnus appeared to seethe for a moment before he sighed and let his shoulders fall, allowing the man to pull him into a single-armed embrace. Then without a word, he shrugged it off and stormed out into the hallway.

Eugene flashed a wink in Hermes' direction before immediately leaving the room to chase after the advisor.

"When did you learn to jest? Tricking Magnus like that."

Hermes turned to his brother to answer but stumbled instead. He cursed under his breath and rested a hand on the wall to support himself until he had the strength to walk on his own.

When his vision cleared, Mikeal was by his side.

"I had forgotten all about your injury," he heard his brother say. "You also need a physician."

He was led to the bed.

"The nun has lost a lot of blood. It wouldn't be safe to move her. You both should be treated here."

Hermes nodded, and Mikeal turned to leave.

"Wait," the Emperor called. "Hand me your cloak."

Mikeal only paused for a moment before obeying. It was a new one he had acquired from one of the few guards under his command. He had left his other one with the nun, but it was nowhere to be seen.

The assassin might have taken it as a spoil of war. He told Hermes that before handing the cloak over.

Hermes grabbed his arm before he could begin to pull away.

"You will set out after Eugene," the Emperor ordered in a quiet voice.

"To supervise him?"

"To protect him," he answered, "from the shadows."

"You anticipate foul play."

"For assassins to infiltrate the palace so deeply and evade its defenses, they must have an ally in the courts. A powerful one."

"It isn't Mother," Mikeal said firmly. The Empress Dowager was many things, but she would not actively destroy anything she had worked hard to achieve no matter how desperate she was for power.

Hermes nodded, obviously thinking the same. "When you and Eugene return, I will welcome you to my side with a glorious feast. It was my intention to do without the formalities, but with the issues of the assassins I cannot afford any of the ministers learning that you are here and accounting for your presence when they make their next move."

"I understand."

"I loathe to send you away so soon after you returned," Hermes admitted. "I will make it up to you."

Mikeal smiled at that and shook his head before patting his brother on the arm. "No need, Your Majesty. I'd take the battlefield over a loveless marriage any day."

~

Oooooh. A chapter <3