Renouncing the Emperor's Heart

Fair Trade

Slanted pews dug into her lower back. Fractured, colored light cleaved the usual blackness and painted the backs of her eyelids a heavy gold. The scent of grey dust, the sizzling ache in her thighs from sitting upright, even her clammy palms that stuck together from her entwined fingers — none of the discomfort could take away the stillness in her mind.

Jovine opened her eyes, her lips whispering the last of her prayer.

With the heaviness in her chest abated, she glanced up at the white-clothed altar with two candles flickering back at her with warmth. Of all the places she expected Amon to bring her to, the Palace Chapel wasn't one of them. How did he know this place had been a haven for her? A space she hadn't been able to retreat to since the work had started. Without asking, he had simply brought her here, wordlessly leading her to the altar and lighting a candle.

Jovine looked to her side.

Sitting with his head bowed, eyes closed, fingers laced together, the Grand Duke rested in the quiet. His large, broad presence didn't seem to belong in such a humble space, but the reverence in his pose and the tinted sunlight throwing shades of red and gold across his sharp features reminded her of one of the angels etched into the mural windows.

As if he could tell she was staring, a sleek smile tilted his lips, even as he kept his eyes closed. "I admit I also snuck a look...I'm glad I'm not alone."

She faced away from him as he opened his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Always in denial, Your Majesty."

"If you say so, Grand Duke Amon."

Huffing out a warm laugh, something akin to relief rippled through his expression. "It's good to see the light back in your eyes."

She raised her brows in question.

"You've been overworked. Exhausted," he said, roaming his gaze across her face.

"I'll be fine."

His lips twitched but not enough to hold onto humor. "It's what you always say, but you don't have to be."

A half-smile tilted her lips. "I'm not saying it just for the sake. I say it, because it's true. In the end, things always fall back into place. I fall back into place," she muttered. "If it doesn't — if I don't believe that it will — then I suppose that is when I've truly lost my light."

With his stare marked on her face, Jovine looked to the divine decals ingrained into the floor-length glass windows that surrounded every corner of the chapel. Portraits of gilded angels with sweeping white wings danced among a field of wind-blown lilies, but as her eyes traveled the length of the scene, it shifted into darker tones of burnt mahogany and a faded image of a hooded figure kneeling on a bed of thorny roses. A frail hand reached to the thundering skies as droplets of blood rained on his misery.

The first time she had seen the masterpiece, a sinister sadness had flustered her. She had been young and almost afraid of the bleak landscape in a place she expected would be the one instance of uncomplicated purity.

Now, however, it was a truth she understood. The angels from a place with no parting, no hurt, no pain, and a being longing for the light. It was poetically tragic.

"There's always a bit of light left," she continued to herself. "Even now, I can breathe a little easier. I have you to thank for that."

When he didn't reply, his face masked in obscurity and a depth to his eyes that she couldn't unravel, Jovine wondered if she had needlessly offered him a glimpse into her nonsensical thoughts. It was true she felt strangely weak the past few days, barely able to sleep through the night and feeling like a murky haze was trying to overcome her. Maybe her ramblings were a part of the madness.