Healer's Touch (26 page)

“Then how did he acquire them?”

“I cannot know, Your Imperial Majesty,” said Marius.

“Were they the result of accidents, or did someone hit him?”

“I may be a village hayseed,” said Marius, “but I recognize that in a situation such as this, the stakes are high for everyone involved. I don’t want to make an accusation when I have no conclusive evidence.”

“I understand,” said Lucien. “But give me your best guess.”

Marius bit his lip. “This is what I know about bruises. Accidental ones are common in children, but they are usually found on the arms and legs, especially the shins. If on the face, the most common location is the forehead. Since Maxian’s are on his torso, it may be that someone is hitting him.”

“That’s what I feared,” said Lucien.

“What do you plan to do?” asked Marius, concerned now for the fates of the guards and nurses who cared for Maxian.

“I’m not sure,” said Lucien. “Vitala and I will discuss it this afternoon.”

Marius sent him a worried glance. What if Vitala was the one hitting the boy? He couldn’t say such a thing aloud, not to her loving husband, but it was a possibility.

“If you’re wondering whether Vitala might be the one hitting him, allow me to ease your mind,” said Lucien. “It’s not her.”

Marius nodded, letting his shoulders relax.

“I think I know who it is,” said Lucien. “But I won’t say anything more until I can confirm it.”

They rode in silence for a while, and Marius allowed himself to breathe more easily. His duty was done. He’d passed on everything he knew except the bit about Jamien that Drusus now denied he’d ever said. Lucien would work things out from here.

He watched the water as they rode. A breeze was kicking up ripples on the lake. The wind was changeable, and the ripples flowed in different directions. As one set collided with another, they formed little whitecaps.

He longed to bring Isolda here. He wanted to bring her lots of places, to be with her out in the open and stop hiding her in the villa—or away from the villa. His exclusion of her when Lucien had come with Gratiana now felt terribly wrong. There’d been a reason for it at the time: Vitala, acting as her alter ego Kolta, had wanted to talk to Isolda about the gunpowder factories. But he knew, and certainly Isolda knew, that even if Vitala had not needed her, Isolda would have been left out of that dinner party.

He was living two separate lives, one with Isolda and Rory, and another one with the imperial family. This was untenable. He understood why she had pulled away from him. She was no Lady Fabiola, seeking an affair in the shadows. Isolda wanted him, but only if she could have him in the light of day.

He cleared his throat. “Cousin, I’d like your permission to marry.”

Lucien turned and looked at him with brows raised. “This is a surprise.”

“I’ve been...keeping things quiet. Until now.”

“I hope it’s not the Sardossian.”

Marius suppressed a cough. For all he’d tried to keep things quiet, he was apparently rather obvious. “It is. Isolda.”

Lucien’s expression remained unreadable as he turned away. “You do not need my permission to marry.”

From a legal standpoint, he didn’t, but there was more at stake here. He didn’t just want Isolda to be his wife; he wanted her to be accepted by the imperial family. And he wanted her to be safe from the city guards. “I think what I mean is that I’m seeking your blessing.”

“Ah,” said Lucien.

“You told me recently that I couldn’t tell her who I was. But if we marry, I must tell her.”

“Have you proposed?”

“I thought I should talk to you first.”

Lucien visibly relaxed. “There’s a problem. You can’t legally marry an illegal citizen.”

Marius had feared that was a possibility. However, he saw an obvious solution. “You could confer citizenship upon her.”

Silence hung between them, and Marius knew Lucien was wrestling with competing interests, not to mention his uneasiness with Marius’s choice of partner.

Finally, Lucien said, “It sets a bad precedent.”

“What are your objections to the marriage?” asked Marius.

Lucien halted his horse.

Marius turned Gambler side-on so that he and the emperor could look each other in the eye.

“My objections are many,” said Lucien. “First, she’s breaking the law, and I don’t reward lawbreakers. Second, she’s far beneath your social class. Did you say she’s the daughter of an apothecary?”

Marius nodded.

“And you are from the imperial family,” said Lucien.

“
You
married a peasant woman from Riorca,” said Marius.

Lucien snorted. “Vitala is an extraordinary woman, one of a kind. How many peasant women, from anywhere, can beat me at Caturanga? How many noblewomen can do it? None. And Caturanga is just one of her many talents.”

“Isolda is extraordinary too.”

Lucien sighed. “How long have you known her?”

“Two months. I also met her briefly a few years ago.”

“I know this is not something you want to hear,” said Lucien. “But what if she’s interested in you only for your wealth and influence, and especially for the possibility that you could, through your influence, make her a legal citizen?”

“She has no idea that I’m connected to the imperial family,” said Marius.

“She knows you’re connected to wealth,” said Lucien.

“She doesn’t care,” said Marius. “I’m sure of it.”

“Love can make a man blind.”

“Would it help if you met her?”

Lucien frowned. “If she meets me, she learns your secret. What if the marriage falls apart and she tells her Sardossian friends who you are? If she wags her tongue, she could jeopardize everything you’ve built for yourself in Riat.”

“Isolda never wags her tongue,” said Marius.

“You haven’t known her long enough to be sure,” said Lucien.

Marius set his jaw. “I want to tell her.”

“What if I meet her and don’t like her?”

“You’ll like her,” said Marius.
He’d better.

Lucien clucked to his horse, sending him into a walk alongside the lake.

Marius steered his horse next to the emperor’s.

“Your mother did this, you know,” said Lucien.

“My mother eloped and ran away,” said Marius. “I’m having a conversation.”

“And do you think a conversation didn’t happen between your mother and Nigellus before everything fell apart? I’m not Nigellus. I’m not going to scare you back to Osler. I don’t like what you’re doing, but you’re right: I married a peasant woman and a bastard besides, and I thank the gods every day that she found me. If you want to marry this woman, and you’re willing to take the risks, talk to her, and then bring her here so I can meet her. All right?”

“Thank you, cousin.” It wasn’t a promise, but it gave him hope. He and Lucien clasped wrists.

Chapter 27

The workday was over, but Isolda couldn’t go home yet. Marius had asked her to wait while he put a few things away in the dispensary. He’d said he needed to talk to her before she left the surgery. Whether it was about business or something personal, she didn’t know.

She ought never to have fallen in love with her boss, and this was why. Her work life and her love life were all muddled up. Being around Marius was shredding her heart one piece at a time, and the only solution she could see was to get out of this situation. Yesterday, she’d spoken with a man at the shipping company where Caz worked, and the fellow had seemed pleased with her. If he offered her the job and it paid well enough to keep her in “bribe money,” as Caz said, she’d take it.

Marius emerged from the dispensary. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, an automatic response, but her momentary joy turned to pain as she reminded herself that he was meant for someone else.

“Isolda, thanks for waiting.” Marius looked tense. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Your office?” she suggested.

“I was thinking the villa.”

Not a business conversation then, but a personal one. “I can’t keep coming to the villa. We’ve no future together, and much as I enjoyed those nights we shared—”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” said Marius. “Our future together.”

“I think all that can be said on that subject has already been said.”

Marius shook his head. “What I have to say, you’ve not heard yet. If you’re not interested in what I have to offer this evening, I’ll never ask you back to the villa again.”

He’d piqued her curiosity. “What should I do with Rory?”

“Does he want to play stick ball? I can have Aurora pack a dinner for him.”

“He’d like that.” Rory had complained about missing his stick ball games.

They left the surgery together. While Marius turned to lock up the building, she collected Rory from where he waited at the corner. “I need to speak with Marius at the villa. You can go straight out to play stick ball. Aurora’s going to bring you dinner.”

With a whoop of joy, Rory ran for the cross street.

Marius took her arm. “He sounds happy.”

Watching Rory pelt down the alleyway, she felt wistful. “He’s always liked it here.”

“I like his being here,” said Marius, leading her to the villa.

Delicious aromas enveloped her as she walked inside. “What’s for dinner?”

“I asked Aurora to make something special,” said Marius. “Roast pella—it’s a Sardossian fish, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Pella is delicious. And bread?”

“Herbed bread, peas with onions, figs, and lemonade.”

It sounded heavenly. Far better than the mystery meat stew she and Rory would have had at some dingy tavern in the harbor district.

At the table, Aurora served all the courses at once and left them alone. It occurred to Isolda that even Drusus wasn’t about. At least, she didn’t see him. But he had to be somewhere.

Marius looked nervous. He sipped his lemonade but did not touch his food. “I’ve thought a lot about that evening when my cousin came by the villa and you spoke to Kolta in the surgery.”

Isolda nodded. The memory of that evening still stung. It had driven home the reality that she did not really belong with Marius.

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence,” said Marius. “You read the situation exactly as it was. My cousin brought a young woman along—her name was Gratiana—because he hoped I would court her. If I married her, it would have helped him politically. But I declined.”

She refused to be distracted by the fact that he had not liked this particular woman. It changed nothing on the grander scale. “Someday he’ll bring a woman you’ll be more interested in.”

Marius shook his head. “He could bring a hundred women and it would make no difference. He and my sister have been trying this for years now, presenting me with marriageable women and hoping I’ll fall in love with one of them. It hasn’t worked, and now I understand why. It’s because none of those women were you.”

Isolda swallowed.

“Every time I visit my family, I count the minutes until I can come back home to you. You’re the one I want, Isolda. There is no other woman. There
will
be no other woman. Will you marry me?”

A sob erupted from her throat.

Marius’s brows shot up. “Three gods. Please tell me those are happy tears.”

“Marius,” she choked. Then she leapt from her chair and flung herself into his arms. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her back and hair. “Yes to what? Happy tears, or you’ll marry me?”

“Both.” She buried her face in his chest, trying to stop crying. Her face felt hot and swollen—what an awful state to be in! This wasn’t how she’d meant to respond to such a proposal, but then she had never expected to receive one. All the emotion inside of her, pent up not just from the months she’d spent desiring Marius but from the years of her terrible loveless marriage with Jauld, spilled out of her like poison flushed from a wound.

“I brought you a gift,” said Marius.

She hiccupped, laughing through her tears. “You don’t need to buy me gifts. Do you think I want anything besides you?”

“You’ll like this. Sit down.”

She took her place at the table, wiping her eyes.

He held out a tiny box.

A box that size couldn’t hold anything large. Jewelry, perhaps? A ring or necklace? She didn’t think of Marius as the sort to buy jewelry, but perhaps for a special occasion, it made sense. She took the box and opened it. Inside was an unmounted stone about the size of her thumbnail, round and polished and black. Bits of bright color winked through its inky surface: reds and yellows and blues. “How extraordinary. What is it?”

“A riftstone,” said Marius.

She gasped.

“Black opal,” he said. “It’s a pyrotechnic’s riftstone. I know you wanted a wardstone for Rory, but since the university fees are the same regardless of the quality of the stone, I thought I’d get you a nicer one. If Rory desires a different type of magic than pyrotechnics, we can exchange it for whatever he prefers.”

Isolda’s hands shook. She could barely breathe. A riftstone for Rory! Not a common jasper, either, but a rare and beautiful black opal. Rory could be a pyrotechnic if they kept this stone, or, if they traded it for another, a Healer, a war mage, a fire mage. A mind mage? No, Kjall limited that form of magic to women. But he could be anything else, anything at all! She pressed a hand over her mouth. She was going to cry all over again.

“I realize it’s more a gift for your son than for you, but—”

Isolda shook her head. “There is nothing in the world I wanted more.”

“I thought that might be the case,” said Marius.

“How is this happening?” asked Isolda. “I thought you couldn’t marry me because of your wealthy cousin. Have you spoken to him yet?”

“I have, and we need to talk about that.”

She set the stone in its box on the table and folded her hands in her lap.

“There are a few obstacles we have to overcome before we can do this.” Marius glanced at her plate. “You’ve barely touched your food. Why don’t you start eating while I explain the family situation?”

How could she eat? Her stomach was in knots. But to satisfy him, she raised a bite of pella to her mouth.