~Which Woman Doesn't?~

At his words, Oris felt herself relax.

Just knowing that she could leave whenever she wanted made the palace feel less like a cage—made it feel like the game was already over.

Of course, that was what it was: a feeling.

In reality, she knew things were far from over.

She took a small step back and curtsied, a wry smile on her painted lips. "You have my gratitude, sire."

"Of course." Hermes took a step back as well, his arms crossed behind his back.

Maybe if he was another man he would have placed a kiss on the knuckle of her heart finger to let her know the promise was true, but this was Hermes—the man who had never laid a hand on her, not even by accident.

All through their conversation, he had treated her with more respect than she thought she could afford, and still she struggled to come to terms with how indifferent he was towards her.

The moment she decided to take Eve's place in the Selection, she had resigned herself to being regarded as another person's property.

She had given up on being seen as a person, on her own, because from then on she became the emperor's woman and how men interacted with her reflected that.

Even if Faeradaigh had been a special case, there was still Mikeal.

The knight had held her intimately after mere minutes of knowing her, just because he could.

The memory was still vivid in her mind.

That night, she had wondered what gave him the courage to touch one of the emperor's brides, yet now that very emperor had proven himself to be the perfect gentleman.

Oris rubbed the skin of her palm where it met her thumb, aware of the silence weighing down on the room's formerly bright atmosphere.

As the person who had requested Hermes' continued presence, it was her duty to continue the conversation and regain his interest but she was too lost in thought to do that.

To be a good homemaker, Oris, the voice of her adoptive mother whispered softly in her ears, you need to know when to pull, when to push and when to cradle.

She took in a deep breath, watching the fingers fold over each other to form the shape of a kite then a symbol then a bridge.

It was a habit she had almost forgotten about so its appearance now was a testament to her unease.

She balled her hands into fists, annoyed with herself. I don't know how much of me I need to be right now, and how much of being a queen to forget.

Hermes was too dangerous to make a mistake in front of, too observant not to notice the depth of her silence. She needed to give him a reason to trust her, a reason that explained why she had spent so many minutes watching him.

She let her hands fall to her side, her mind made up. "Thank you for the tea, sire. I feel much better now."

With the matter of Nian Fey put behind them, she was free to speak as openly as possible. She had been too reckless before, so her goal now was to lighten the conversation to the point of triviality.

"You have a knowledge of teas?"

"You give me too much credit, sire. I just happen to be familiar with this particular one." She looked down at her shoes, loathing the words about to leave her lips.

"Sire," she nudged the leg of her chair with her foot, "do you not like me?"

She didn't give Hermes a chance to answer before speaking again. It was rude, but paired with her current behavior helped project the idea that she was nervous. "Or do you not like women at all? I would understand. In many States, men can have relations with their peers and even marry—"

"Silence." He held up a hand but did not look affected by the question in the slightest.

"I apologize, sire," she whispered, rubbing the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. Playing the part of a hopeful bride had never been easier.

"Why do you ask?"

The ease of his question was almost suspicious but she didn't pay attention to it. This was not the time to dissect the meaning behind him every word.

She reached out to touch the wooden arm of her chair, tracing the patterns carved into it with the tips of her fingers. "Which woman does not wish to know whether her husband loves her?"

"Do you worry about married life?"

"Which woman doesn't?"

They both stared at each other, with a common understanding that one question would only be answered with another. A compromise needed to be reached or the conversation would degrade into an interrogation.

"Let it be like this," Hermes said, walking along the ring of cushions, away from Oris, "an answer for each question."

"And how many questions can I ask, sire?"

"As many as I."

She nodded. If he hadn't suggested it first, she would have done so now. "My first question, sire."

He looked at her, his surprise clear.

Oris smiled in reply, aware that she had only survived this long because she had the identity of a nun to fall back on. A handful of carefully chosen questions could easily unravel that safety net and leave her stranded in an ocean of lies.

"I do not care for women," Hermes answered with a small frown, now standing behind the chair he had once sat in, "or men. My priorities lie elsewhere."

Oris bit her tongue before she asked if that meant that he cared for livestock instead, a reminder not to be too playful.

In truth, she did not care about who or what he dragged into his bed. The only purpose the question served was to divert his attention from the fact that she wished to kill him.

"Why do you wear a veil?"

The answer she had given in the grand hall would not suffice because the situation was much different.

Now that they were the only one present, wearing a veil was no longer necessary.

The whole purpose of the Selection was to become his consort, if she still insisted on covering her face it clearly meant that she had no desire to marry him.

Not marrying. Not having a luxurious life. Not sacrificing herself for her State. Not becoming Empress.

Once all these other options were eliminated, her purpose for being in the palace would be clear to even the blind.

Her own words had come back to haunt her sooner than she had expected.

Some might wish to kill you.

He had granted her the freedom of an unwed woman causing her status to no longer depend on whether she married him or not but on whether Nian Fey could leave the dungeons or not.

Saying that she had no desire to be part of the Selection now meant absolutely nothing.

The sword she had intended to use as a weapon had somehow fallen on her foot.

Oris felt sourness rise up her throat. He had set up the trap so casually that she had not seen it until now. If she hadn't had ber guard up the entire time, she would have panicked and given herself away.

"If the question makes you uncomfortable, you need not answer it."

Her gaze drifted back to him. He was back in his chair, calm and collected with his hands poised over the brazier.

When he noticed her eyes on him, he nodded to the seat behind her.

Oris did as he wished, clasping her hands and resting them on her lap.

She leaned into her chair, both thrilled and conflicted.

She had to admit that she had wasted her first question. She should have known that Hermes mental fortitude would not have been shaken by something as banal as matters of the bedroom.

Still, it had given her a good foundation, allowing her next question to fit seamlessly into the conversation.

She felt her way through the curls of her hair for the ribbons holding up her veil. "I was afraid that I would fail the Selection and be recognized when I was evicted from the palace. I would not have been able to stand the shame."

Hermes looked at her strangely, and she could almost hear his unasked questions. Which one is it? Are you afraid of failing the Selection or of being recognized?

"I admit that I only upheld the traditions of my tribe for that reason," she continued, undoing the first in a series of decorative knots Andrea had tied to secure the veil, "but my face has already seen so I suppose there is no longer any reason to act demure."

Of course, for her there was a reason. If Hermes recognized her, she would be killed. But. . . it was her turn to ask a question.

"In my old chambers, a man watched over me as I slept. At the time, I did not know that my maids had taken off my veil. So I did not know until it was too late." Oris smiled, anticipation making her heart beat harder with every breath. "You should know him. Mikeal..."

For the first time in an hour, Hermes showed a genuine change of expression. Hearing Mikeal's name had surprised him enough that it took him three full seconds to rein in his emotions.

"...and of course, he is not my husband," there was only one knot left, "but I consider him a brother."

Of course, she did. When she was with Mikeal she was sixteen again, childish, playful and carefree. Every moment with him filled her with nostalgia as though she had lived a live with him once before and had forgotten all of it, but there was another reason why she had brought him up.

"Your Majesty, who is he to you?"

If she had to take off her veil, then Hermes had to sacrifice something too.

She supposed what the Empress Dowager had said in the Grand Hall was circling his mind at that very moment.

While the accusation of having a lover outside the palace was a deadly one, she had managed to counter it by elaborating on the purpose of her veil.

But what if the lover was inside the palace? What if what was being hidden by the veil had already been seen?

How Hermes reacted would tell her clearly who Mikeal was even if his words were a carefully crafted lie.

Mikeal... She thought to the handful of conversations she had had with the man. Forgive me for lying that day.

Back then, she had said that she didn't care what relationship he had with Hermes and she had meant it, but his closely-guarded identity had now become a form of retaliation.

Mikeal might have been a knight, but he clearly had the air of Innoish nobility and bore a striking resemblance to a young King Abbadad.

And if he was the last surviving Prince of Inae, that changed everything.

~

Dun Dun Dun. This took so long to write. I deleted so much of this chapter, rewrote the dialogue a handful of times, switched up words for their synonyms until at last this was born.

How many of you are worried for Oris?

Hermes pushed her into removing the veil, but she also intended to pry some answers out of him.

And just when we thought that the worst was behind us!