70. The Empress

The Empress

“Divusians don’t do this,” I tell Cassius for what must be the hundredth time.

“Divusians didn’t used to do this,” he corrects, as usual.

“It feels ridiculous,” I argue.

“It’s important for the people to see you as ruling in your own right.” This isn’t the first time I have heard this argument, and I agreed to it. Now that we’re here in the forum and I can hear the crowds, though, my nerves have started to fray. I’m not used to being so visible. I’m used to blending in, playing my role.

I suppose this is a role, too.

Wife to the Imperator, Cassius Augustus Evander.

Imperata.

Empress Luella Rose Amulius Evander.

Luella gave me the strength to take revenge for my sister, but Rose was the me who lost everything. Amulius was my mater’s familia name, before she married my pater, and Cassius is the only man I’d allow to call me his equal. I broke tradition by keeping my old name and taking his. Four names? The Senate had a fit.

But it was right. I’m all of those things and more.

And I’m done hiding.

I look to Cassius and nod, and we move from behind the curtain, hand in hand.

“People of Divus,” Cassius says, voice booming to resonate across the marble pillars. The seats are full of Senators and on the floor and through the doorway is a sea of plebeians. “I’m pleased to present to you, our Empress, Luella Rose Amulius Evander.” A cheer from the plebeians, many of whom will remember me from our wedding in the Furies temple. If they notice my hair a bit darker, my nose a bit different, or my eyes less bright, they don’t say anything. I wear my real face now, the one I’d shied away from for so long. The Senators are more subdued, unsure of what this new power dynamic means for them, for their politics. I’m sure many supported Tristan, and others are likely Bacchantes themselves.

It feels right to claim this as myself, in my own body.

Cassius looks to me, waiting for the crowd to cool, for the cheers to die down, before he speaks again. His eyes never leave mine. “Your Empress has worked tirelessly to keep the women and men of this republic safe for years.” He’s playing up the rumors that have been circulating since we were married by Tisiphone’s priestess. Whether he admits it or not, he has a way with the people. “Now she can do it from where she belongs, at the head and the heart of Divus.”

The crowd cheers, and I hear it whispered loudly by some, chanted by others.

“ Vidua ,” they whisper.

“Tisiphone,” they chant.

“Justice,” more intone.

Cassius places a small golden diadem on my wheat waves, the circlet offset by thorns and small leaves, the twin to his. He doesn’t kiss me, or raise our hands, as I expected. Instead, he kneels.

“One cannot inherit Divus. One must take it.” The crowd cheers louder for this, the Divusian motto of might. “You have taken it from the corrupt Tristan Evander, a traitor to our Divusian women and men.” My cheeks threaten to flame. Can he blame me for the death of the Emperor? What will the people think?

They scream, they cry. New chants rise up as Cassius continues. “You are chosen by the gods, by me as Emperor, and now…” he gestures to the crowd, still kneeling. “People of Divus, do you accept your Empress?”

He’s a genius. I see it when the Senators realize what he’s done. They pale as the crowd screams its assent.

“We choose!”

“Empress! Empress!”

“Tisiphone! Vidua !”

I turn to them then, and bow. The hush is immediate. “Thank you, Imperator. Thank you, people of Divus.” Pulling Cassius to standing, I raise our joined hands.

“To the future.”

The screams are deafening, my ears near to popping, but I look to Cassius and we both smile.

“To the future,” he mouths back to me.

Cassius moved rooms. His tapestries and frescoes came with, the once traitorous nature scenes feeling more true than ever, as we just admitted to trying to topple the old ways. It feels good, freeing.

We do not have separate chambers here, just one large bed. It’s not swathed in white, but deep green to match the walls. The suns have set, and I can feel the events of the day buzzing through us both, our bodies nearly vibrating.

He steps closer to me once the servants depart. “How are you?” He takes my hand and tugs me into his chest. His lips find mine, warm and tender.

“Better now,” I murmur against his lips. I told him I liked the scruff and now he refuses to shave, the coarse hair tickling my cheek.

“Luella,” he whispers into my neck. “C or meum .” He’s kissing my neck, my jaw, trailing his lips along each space in between. “You were incredible.”

“As were you,” I say, tilting my head to allow him better access to my neck. A shiver runs through me as his teeth graze the sensitive spot just above my shoulder.

We haven’t done more than kiss in the clipses since I left the kitchens. Claude still lets me come down to bake, but they’ve hired a true baker now. One who isn’t consumed with running an empire.

Cassius must remember this at the same time I do, because he stops, his breath ragged. “Sorry, cor meum .” He kisses my forehead, lips gentle at first. Then he leans in and lets out a breath on my forehead. “Forgive me?”

I tip my head up and kiss him, harder. “There’s nothing to forgive,” I say. My hands begin to seek him, his heat. I push back his shirt, tangling my hands in his hair, greedy for him.

He’s frozen for a moment, as if he can’t decide what he should do, but then he’s kissing me back, breathing life into me with his lips. “We can stop, cor meum .”

“I don’t want to, do you?” I say, biting his neck. The guttural noise that escapes him curls my toes, brings fire to my core.

“Gods, no. I dream of this every night.” I know he’s not lying. He talks in his sleep sometimes, whispering my name, and I always wake clutched in his arms. “But if you’re not ready…” He draws back to look at me, eyes searching.

“Cassius,” I say it slowly. “I want you, now.” He snaps then, his hands finally matching my own, roving across my back, brushing my hips.

I wrestle his shirt off, reveling in the strength of his arms, the taper of his muscles below his breeches. He’s hard, his generous length clearly visible. He doesn’t show that he’s eager, though. Instead, he takes his time, kissing every inch of exposed skin until I’m the one removing my clothes.

“Cassius,” I whimper, tugging down my dress. He chases the fabric with his tongue, his teeth, kissing each inch of skin as it emerges from the dress, until his mouth is on my breasts and I gasp. He slips my nipple into his mouth and sucks gently. My back arches and I whimper again. He growls, moving to the other while his hand finds the one he abandoned, twisting it enough to make me tremble.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, his tongue flicking out over the beaded skin.

I moan. “Don’t stop.” He slides my dress down to the floor, following it until he’s on his knees, kissing my stomach, my hips, my thighs. I need him, my thighs clenching as my core heats.

He walks on his knees, pushing me back towards the bed, kissing my waist all the while. The backs of my legs meet the bed and he molds his hands on my waist, settling me on plush green linen. He kisses my knees, then the inside of each, then he nuzzles them open, so my legs fall to the sides enough for his head to start moving towards my core, kissing my legs as he goes, until finally he’s there.

Nipping the inside of my thigh, he inhales sharply. “Tell me to stop,” he says again. I reach down, stroking his cheek, tangling my hands in his hair. Then I push his head forward.

When his tongue meets my core I tip my head back in relief that he’s finally, finally where I want him. “Yes,” I pant. “More.”

Cassius obliges, his tongue circling that sensitive bundle of nerves and his skilled finger coming to my entrance. I tip my hips forward. “More,” I tell him. He slides one finger inside of me, his own moan vibrating through me.

“More,” I tell him and he doubles his fingers but I’m already shaking my head. “No, more of you.” I tug on his hair.

“Luella, let me worship you,” he says, almost pleading. He’s scared. I know he is, because as much as he wants me he doesn’t want to lose me, either. He thinks I will see Tristan in him, the way I told him once that I couldn’t stand to be married to the Emperor.

“Let me choose how I’m worshiped.” I capture his mouth in mine, tasting myself on his tongue. It stokes the fire in me higher, passion and purpose mingling into one.

Reaching between us, I grip his hard length, and his head falls forward into my neck. “Gods, Luella. You’ll undo me in seconds.” I loosen my grip, guiding him towards my entrance.

“I don’t mind.” Smiling, I kiss him deep, wrapping my legs around his waist until he slides into me. The breath leaves me and Cassius freezes. I bite his lip, tipping my hips forward, eliciting a tiny bit of friction. “Cassius, more,” I demand. He does as I ask, slowly sliding his length into me. I feel myself clenching already, release so close I can almost touch it.

Not yet, though. Cassius breathes me in as he moves, slow at first, and then faster. Our cries mingle together until I don’t know where I begin and he ends.

Then one of his hands tangles in my hair and something about it feels disturbingly familiar, painfully reminiscent of another time. “Stop,” I manage to say. It’s a cracked whisper, and I know as I say it that it will be swallowed by his passion.

Except it isn't. He stops before I’ve finished the words, his breath ragged. “What is it?” He presses up, still leaning over me, his weight shifting back, ready to do whatever I ask. Cerulean pools meet mine, and the concern, the love, is overwhelming. I feel my own eyes welling with tears, but I shake them away.

“You,” I swallow hard, “caught my hair. I don’t…” I don’t need to finish, his hands instantly moving away, widening his stance so that his body drops lower.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers. “I’m not him…not any of them. Please, cor meum .”

My legs are still around his waist and I twist them, tugging him to the side. He complies, easily rolling onto his side and then his back. I follow, straddling him. I reposition us so he meets my entrance again, heat and warmth urging me forward. When I slide back onto his length, Cassius puts his hands above his head, keeping them away from me. “Tell me what you want,” he says again.

I don’t answer, finding the small forward movements that hit the spot I want. My hands grip his chest and soon I feel that pressure building again.

Cassius has his hands together, like he’s praying. I can see how hard he’s working to keep his hands off of me, to keep from thrusting into me. To make sure it’s all completely in my control.

When the pressure threatens to blind me I finally lean forward, kissing him. He meets me with all of his restrained desire, the heat between us building.

“Touch me,” I ask. “Make me forget, Cassius.”

Once my words register, Cassius' hands are on me in a moment. He runs them along my hips, my sides. “I love you,” he says, kissing me. “I love you,” he mutters, gripping my hips with the perfect amount of pressure. “I love you,” he whispers, tilting his hips up to meet mine.

His hand comes behind my neck, not pushing me onto his length but instead making sure I can’t escape his lips, his words.

“I love you, cor meum ,” he promises, shattering my past into pieces as I come undone.