Alone in her office, Rellenora stared at the clay cup on her desk with tear filled eyes.
Inside the cup, there was a liquid abortifacient, which Rellenora had personally cooked up on a brazier. Everyone around her had assumed that she was brewing a fertility potion.
She should have taken it by then. She had several minutes' worth of opportunities to swallow the bitter potion down.
But she hadn't.
The full cup was just ... sitting there, cooling off.
The banging, crashing noise of someone bursting into the office had Rellenora jumping in her seat. She put her fingers to her bosom and looked at a woman wearing simple yet authoritative clothing.
Oana Nidi, the Royal Physician.
She must have figured Rellenora's plan out! She must had told the guards there was a medical emergency of the highest degree. Being understanding people, the guards must have let her inside the palace.
Last chance! Before she rushes in and takes the cup away! Drink it! Hurry and take the abortifacient!
Her arm reached out.
But.
Her fingernails didn't even tap the clay cup.
Her arm hovered in the air.
Oana charged forward and knocked the cup over, spilling the contents all over the rosewood desk.
The physician was screaming. Rellenora slid down in her chair, feeling spikes of ice in her chest.
She couldn't think of anything to do but wait.
When Oana was finished with her hollering, she exited, leaving Rellenora alone.
It wouldn't take long now. The servants would have overheard. The gossip would spread. The physician would certainly tell the Emperor immediately. Soon everyone would know, everyone.
Her feet chilled.
Rellenora thought that she had just been caught trying to commit one of the worst crimes against the empire.
Either the Emperor would have her deposed and executed, or he'd have her deposed, wait for her to give birth, and then have her executed.
Her fingers spread over her eyes as she trembled and tried to think of a way out. Her tears collected in her hands.
She stayed there for a long time, waiting and waiting, dreading the eventual outcome. But eventually she was ripped out of her mind by a knock on the office door. She heard a maid speak. Rellenora waited a few moments for her brain to catch up.
"Your Majesty, your honorable brother is requesting an audience."
Fuck! He was the last person she wanted to see! He had once nearly killed her when she was maybe six years old, and again when she was nine! The sickening man!
Rellenora's hands curled on her lap as she looked up at the ceiling.
If Galton got angry enough, he might kill her.
Better than being executed. Depending on how offended the Emperor was, she could end up being chopped in half from the waist down, ensuring that she felt all of the pain as she slowly died.
And as long as Rellenora didn't physically provoke her brother, or even threaten him, then Galton might be accused of murder, which would be fitting because he certainly would have murdered her. It was like framing someone except they'd actually commit the crime so there would be no guilt on the one who arranged it all!
Rellenora wrote on her slate, "Please send my brother to this office of mine." Then she opened the door and showed the slate to the maid. After the maid bowed and left, Rellenora closed the office door and sat back down at her desk. Since there wasn't much else for her to do, Rellenora took a handkerchief from under her robes and dabbed at the liquid on the desk. There might be a stain. Well, she didn't care about that, but she thought she should at least make an attempt at cleaning up the mess.
Some minutes later, her office door opened and closed. She folded her handkerchief into a tidy square on the desk and watched her brother's long legs pound against the floor. He was yelling. His hands were unusually pink.
Oh yes. He was livid.
More yelling. He banged his fist against a wall. He pointed at her.
Instead of cowering, Rellenora did something she knew would entice his greatest fury.
She put on a wide, stupid grin, and she stood up. Then she forced herself to laugh as loudly as possible.
Mission accomplished.
Fingers outstretched, Galton lunged at her. Rellenora felt heat and alarming tightness at her throat.
She couldn't breathe.
Her eyes closed. Her hands instinctively went to the larger, rougher ones at her throat, even though she knew she couldn't fight him off, even though she knew this was what she had wanted him to do.
But, underneath Galton's angry tones and Rellenora's gasping, there was the sound of the door opening again.
Then Naeva's shrieking.
Oh no!
Naeva was behind Galton, pounding her little fists on his back. Galton released Rellenora, allowing sweet, nearly precious air to flow back and forth in her lungs. Her knees gave away. She went to the floor as she tried not to hyperventilate. Her neck had never hurt so much before. She had some difficulty swallowing her saliva.
A smack in the air. Naeva cried out again and was sent to a wall, knocking a vase over. The pretty thing broke in half. Did Galton just backhand her? That wasn't right! Naeva didn't do anything wrong!
Rellenora would have called the guards, but before she could a profusion of them stampeded inside. They were loud and unforgiving. They had probably heard the commotion, or someone who had heard the commotion called on them.
The blunt end of a weapon was jammed into Galton's abdomen, and then, as the prince coughed and collapsed over, he was struck on the side of his head. A few guards went to Rellenora's side. One of them pointed his gloved finger at her throat. Were there marks there? Damn it.
A few more guards went to help Naeva to her feet. The poor woman was rapidly putting all of her words onto the men, likely telling them that she witnessed Prince Galton choking the Empress of Zenthia, and then he hit her when she tried to stop him.
It seemed that nothing was meant to go according to plan.
Suddenly, Rellenora thought she was deaf. Her mind was murky. Her fingers felt as though they were being sliced open, even though they were perfectly fine, better than fine, mollycoddled and soft.
She took a stick of chalk from its pouch. It slipped out of her fingers and bounced on the floor. A guard picked it up. He bowed as he handed it to her.
The strokes on her slate were very light. "Excuse me. I need to be alone." As she left the room and quickly walked down a hallway, she held the slate up to anyone that might bother her. Thankfully, the strategy worked. Nobody approached her, not even a lady-in-waiting.
Her soft shoes were placed on the steps of every single staircase she could find that would lead her to the highest story of the palace. When she was at a balcony, her nose heated up. Her slate was dropped so it could hang from her clothing. She looked back at the exit door of the room that was connected to the balcony. She walked back to the door and pushed a little sliding lock over it.
As she went back to the balcony, she leaned against a white column and gazed at all the roofs of the lower buildings. There were dark and dry leaves scattered on their edges. The trees were nearly bare.
Should ... should she ...?
Maybe she should make sure none of the people walking about were looking at her? Rellenora didn't want to traumatize anyone.
Well ... it would be less traumatizing than witnessing an execution, wouldn't it?
How much would it hurt? Would it be quick, at least?
Rellenora parted her robes as much as she could, feeling the chilling air through her under-dress. The fence that protected people was a thick thing, made of brilliant stone.
One leg lifted up. A foot on top of the fence. Then that foot's sister.
Her arms around the column, Rellenora pushed herself up. The view was made even more frightening. She thought she might vomit.
No ...
She didn't want to die.
But this was the best thing, right?
But she didn't want to die, especially not as she was. Even if she didn't want the Emperor's child, that didn't mean she wanted to never ever have children. If she died now, she'd never know what it was like to give a piece of herself to the world.
Hm ... Rellenora had never had that sort of thought before. Why was she thinking that way now?
But it didn't matter, did it? She was going to die anyway.
People noticed her. Her courage nearly died. She pouted down at the crowds that were forming. Could she slink away and find a different balcony? Damn, broad daylight turned out to be the worst time to jump off of a building.
It was the most irritating, lagging feeling. She wouldn't jump but she wouldn't retreat. She was like an ice coated bush at the mercy of a wintry wind, suffering but unable to do anything.
Bam!