The first thing Rahela heard on the morning after her rather unpleasant dreams wasn't a "good morning."
What she heard was the Emperor bluntly saying, "Batu Markov's father, Ilvan Markov, isn't a duke anymore."
It was a bizarre greeting.
Rahela had frightening dreams in her sleep. From visions of a moldy prison cell to imagined worries about Gabi being killed. Then when she woke up, before she even had time to rub her eyes, the Emperor had casually given her an update on politics.
In fact, he wasn't even out of bed. He was sitting up, looking out the open curtains, letting plenty of daylight in. Someone had apparently opened the curtains at the windows too. The man looked so well rested. He was smiling.
Rahela sat up too and rubbed her eyes. Then she yawned into the back of her hand and said quietly said, "Good morning, My Lord." There were some dragging and scraping noises outside, along with some young voices.
"Don't be alarmed," the Emperor said as he shrugged. "the boys and girls are arranging privacy screens on each side. This way, the boys won't see you and the girls won't see me." His skin's color looked richer in this light, as if his already good health turned finer, like an idealized portrait.
Rahela wanted to hear more about the Markov family. "My Lord, has that family already been uprooted from their estate?"
He turned his head to peacefully smile at her. It was an expression not unlike that of a priest that had finished a short meditation. "Yes. That family has to find a new home. I've assigned a temporary regent to manage the estate."
"It must not have been a difficult decision," Rahela said. "Your Majesty is wise."
His nose wiggled. His smile turned more playful. "I had my mother and sister to discuss the matter with."
"Ah." Rahela nodded. "The wisest ones know to seek advice." She rolled her body towards the curtains on her side. "May I?"
He made a flipping, swirling gesture with his hands. "Go on, but close the curtains."
Rahela was still nude when she stepped out onto the platform and down the stairs. A system of panels and screens, along with some of her chambermaids, were waiting on her. Once she was properly hidden, and the girls were helping her pick out from a few outfits they'd brought, she heard the Emperor moving down the other side of the bed.
She put on a fresh chemise and a never before worn pair of stockings. Her shoes had gold studs in various curved lines on each side. The gown she put on had a Yahsin style, tight laces in the back and snug sleeves, or at least the sleeves were a bit snug all the way to the elbows. From the elbows, there was a more Testoan look, large wings of falling fabric.
The neckline didn't risk exposing her shoulders, but it did move down in a scooping shape. The fabric itself was a delightful brocade of dark blue green. The pattern had birds in an outline of silver and filled in spaces of a certain shade of orange that honestly was very close to pink. It reminded Rahela of some of the colors she'd seen in the gemstones on top of her wedding soap.
She could've worn a surcoat, but honestly after all the elaborate things she'd worn on the day before she didn't want anything complicated. She told one of the chambermaids to fold the surcoats away. Another one combed her hair and mentioned something about putting it up, but here Rahela's stubborn nature won again. She was Yahsin by marriage but she was still Testoan. Testoa was part of Yahsin, wasn't it? So, Rahela said she'd have her hair in long plaits.
The girls gave her fairly unnerved expressions. One of them whispered that most people would be horrified. Rahela told them that would be their own nonsensical reactions to a Testoan woman being Testoan. She was proud of her hair.
It was all combed out and put into ribbon plaits that hung down her front. Those ribbons were black with silver stripes. Clasps made of animal horn and strips of gold were attached at the ends.
A head-rail, or veil, was put on top of her head, technically following the "a married woman must cover the top of their head" rule, although many interpreted that as, "a married woman must hide her damn hair." The fabric was white and circular, reaching a bit past the center of her back.
A plain but excellent belt of black leather was put around her waist. It was longer than it needed to be, the excess length hanging down her skirt. Her favorite personal items were hooked onto special holes in the leather that weren't made for the buckle.
A thin but sturdy circlet of gold was put on the veil on her head. This circlet, along with some tiny pins in the hair, helped keep the fabric from slipping off her head. One of the chambermaids had to whine to get her to put on a Yahsin headdress. Rahela chose a thin one with a crescent shape and black fabric; single silver chains were hanging from each side.
The chambermaids even brought a little box of some jewelry. It seemed that they'd simply taken an empty box, put some random pieces inside, and carried it over. In the end, one of her hands had a gold ring with little black and red stones. A sleek necklace of more gold was clasped on. It was a few inches away from the neckline.
Now that she was dressed, she called out, "My Lord, are you finished?"
"Yes. Our attendants should come soon."
The screens and panels were folded up when applicable and carried or dragged away. The chambermaids helped the boys. The husband and wife had no difficulty finding each other.
The Emperor's hair was loose. He had on a rather preposterous hat. Rahela believed it was based on an old practice of laborers to take off their cloaks and wrap them around their heads. The Emperor's hat clearly wasn't made of a laborer's cloak, though. A circle of twisted, possibly padded red fabric was around the man's head. There were a few gold brooches on this twisted circle. Fabric from the center, on his head's top, was allowed to hang over one side, reaching perhaps a few inches past the chin. A portion of a protective linen cap was visible on both sides of the head, and thin strings were tied under that chin.
Rahela hated that hat.
She refused to let anyone know it.
The rest of the Emperor's outfit was acceptable. He had a long gown of ample fabric with long, wing-style sleeves. The base color was bright yellow. There were thick black borders with fruit patterns. The fruits were red cherries with green leaves. His shoes were black. His belt was black too, although it didn't have a long piece hanging down as Rahela's did. He had a few rings and a necklace of silver beads with a few pendants.
The couple sat down at the round table Rahela had noticed last night. She saw it wasn't the only dining table. A second and larger one was nearby. She also noticed some other details in the room that hadn't been clear before. Some of portions of the walls had smooth ebony paneling. Some of the paintings were more complex than previously assumed. Some of the tiles on the floor had such fascinating colors that Rahela found herself starting down at them and trying to imagine how they were made.
"Are you ill?" the Emperor asked.
"No My Lord." She looked back up just when their attendants, squires and pages, ladies and maid-in-waiting, all arrived. They went over to the second dining chair. Ammas was with there too, but he didn't sit down. He stood by while eating a few meat filled buns and cheese out of a package he held.
The chamberboys all worked hard to serve breakfast then. A few servants from the kitchens helped, since they were the ones that brought the food in. It wasn't a very complicated meal. Fresh bread. Some fruits with a sweet dipping sauce made of cream. A hunk of firm cheese. Cups of herbal water. Nothing strong.
That tiny page, Rokas, he was the one to have a tantrum at the wedding. He was in a sour mood again. He didn't want to eat his cheese, nor his bread. He only wanted fruit and with none of the cream sauce. Borys tried to be logical with him. "Cheese and bread will keep you strong," he said. "You must eat as much as you can."
That wasn't successful. Rokas whined about how Borys shouldn't be "giving orders" to him anyway since he was a bastard, and a known idiot's bastard at that.
Awkward silence didn't happen just yet.
First, Borys had to groan and say that didn't matter, even though the squires were giggling behind their fists.
Oksana stopped chatting with Yana and stared at the scene. Yana kept her eyes away. Gabi didn't seem to know what was going on. She didn't have much of a reaction. The Emperor didn't have much of a reaction either, or that's what one might assume. Rahela did notice that while his face was pointed down at his food, his eyes did slowly move over to that little boy.
Rokas insisted that it did matter, and when Borys applied some discipline, this time not a spanking but a firm tug on his little ear instead, that boy reacted in a way few could've expected. He grabbed a fork and stabbed the prongs down. Not in a piece of food. Not onto the table. No. His target, it seemed was Borys' thigh.
That was when the awkward silence began.
Bory's shocked face paled.
The squires both gawked at the little boy.
Yana put her shaking little fists just under her jaw and broke the silence with a scream.
The Emperor shot up. His chair fell backwards and slammed onto the floor. Rahela got up too. They went over to the attendants.
Rahela volunteered to go to Borys. The fork fell out of his thigh, but the wound seemed strong. Blood was seeping through his clothes. She told Oksana to go find a physician immediately.
As for the Emperor ... Rahela was actually surprised at how calm he was. She'd expected him to yell or beat the child senseless. Well, the child was beaten, but not senseless. His Majesty grabbed Rokas by his arm, sat down again once a chamberboy set his chair right, and pinned the page to his lap. Rokas' belly was on the Emperor's thighs and his legs kicked in the air. They would've dangled if he was limp. Another chamberboy handed the Emperor a fairly big and smooth paddle. A wordless spanking was given then.
A physician arrived soon and tended to the quiet and uncertain Borys behind a screen. Then Borys took his seat again to finish his breakfast. As he ate with no more interruptions, the Emperor put the now tired and sniffling Rokas on a rug on the floor, where he stayed on his belly. His Majesty then asked everyone in the room very, very quietly yet clearly, "Would anyone else like to attack the bastard?"
Nobody said anything. The squires looked almost ill. They didn't seem to want to finish their meal.
The Emperor crouched down enough to tug on one of Rokas' sleeves, and he spoke down to the boy, "You've assaulted your senior. Who told you that was acceptable?"
The boy didn't say anything. So, the Emperor gave a different question. "Who told you that bastard wasn't meant to be listened to?"
