XIX. The Symposia

  On their final night in Kinos, the symposia was in full swing. Admrilia’s eyes ate the room. For a philosophical gathering, there was not a lot of deep thought occurring. A dias had been constructed in the middle of the low couches where barely clad women danced on a raised platform. Admrilia watched their hips sway for a moment bristling as the room shifted its attention at her arrival. She was dressed for the evening in a rich indigo stolla. Her handmaidens had applied thick kohl around the rims of her obsidian eyes. The bronzer on her cheeks made them look rich and harsh at the same time.

  Admrilia waited a breath in the hallway, as if it had been her intention all along to allow the brazers to cast vengeful shadows over her face. With militaristic steps she moved cut through the couches and to the back of the banquet hall. Three couches were rotated to face a short u-shaped table overlaid with pork, chicken, and fruit. The Conqueror lounced on the central couch, looking at ease. His eyes locked on her momentarily as she kissed his knuckles.

  She settled on a couch to his right, across from the council members. A ker servant quickly poured her a glass and was quickly forgotten. Governor Mynos raised his hand in greeting. “How do you like our symposia, Princess Admrilia?”

  “I heard a symposium was for men to discuss matters of philosophy and politics.” Admrilia gestured her glass over to the dias. “I see this is the philosophy in question?”

  Ditas Agricola let out a hearty laugh. “The deep discussions happen after more wine.” He smiled good naturedly as he moved his hand under the table to pet the Conqueror’s ancient hunting hounds. Admrilia disliked his smile immediately. It was too cocky, like Asho’s when he was about to talk himself out of punishment. “Drink to your first symposia princess!”

  “Indeed.” Admrilia’s lips narrowed. “I thank you for including me.”

  “You are an heir to the empire.” Governor Mynos begrudged. The old man waved a hand towards the dancers. “You are not like, well.” He shrugged to himself.

  Admrilia leaned forward. “Like what exactly, Governor?”

  “A common woman.” The Governor said slowly.

  Admrilia drove her dark eyes into his. “I assure you I am anything but common.” She felt a familiar flash of indignation.

  Mynos nodded his head. “Very well. Now say the Conqueror chooses you as his heir and you are to become Empress—”

  “When, when he chooses me as heir.”

  Mynos’ slips slid. “As Empress, will you live as a vira?”

  Vira. A woman who lives as a man. It was an old, archaic tradition, and Admrilia had never heard the word thrown like a slur before. Her jaw tightened. “Now what would make you ask me that?”

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  Mynos set down his wine glass and held up a fist. “Mother Skytops bore creation in her image. A woman’s place is to nurture. Father Wyrd—” He placed his palm over the curled fist. “Protect the mother. Thus, it is a man’s role to protect and lead the household. Or in this case, a nation.”

  Admrilia opened her mouth to respond but a low, methodical voice cut her off. “Old friend, surely you do not believe this.” The Conqueror’s pitless eyes slid to the governor.

  “I am just departing from the benefits of a rigid society with your heir. Your esteemed excellency has pushed such a philosophy where everybody has their place. Is that not why we have kerai servants feeding us every meal in these halls and quarrying our rock and toiling our fields? Not all Ashenians believe a woman’s place is to lead a great nation such as ours.”

  “May I remind you that my own mother was a great empress who never married?” The Conqueror said.

  Mynos, to Admrilia’s horror, met his dark gaze. “And your mother faced much hardship in her reign. Many doubted the legitimacy of her rule.” And you, hung in the air between them. “After all, is this not why we pushed into Ker when famine and mismanagement plagued the empire?”

  “From Sugia’s greedy noblemen hoarding for themselves. Empress Ayuan took care of the matters of the empire. Make no mistake, I went to Ker for my own glory.”

  “That may be so.” Governor Mynos conceded. “But you must attest that Empress Ayuan faced much opposition on account of her being a woman. And your heir?” Mynos looked Admrilia up and down. “She is only half Ashenian. Her existence was a condition to the surrender of Ker. Her loyalties will come into question and I foresee her facing such hardships in the future.”

  “You diminish me.” Admrilia said cooly. “As if I were a small girl and not the future of our nation. To answer your concerns, governor, I am well aware that I have been born into a unique role with tremendous responsibility. Of course I anticipate opposition and hardship. It would be foolish not to. But my duty, above all else, is to the empire’s people. The Ashenian people”

  Mynos' old lips twisted into a wide smile, and Admrilia realized that perhaps, the old man was not nearly as invested in the argument as Admrilia was. Over the next two hours, Admrilia sampled candied dates, pickled olives, and thick slices of braised pork dripping in fat. The music grew fast paced and flighty as young noblemen began dancing near the raised dias. She watched with distant amusement as a brawl was separated by legionnaires.

  It did not miss her attention that Ditas Agricola was constantly looking at her. Gods below, why wouldn’t someone sink this level of attention into Asho?

  He was lucky to be promised off.

  She painted her face with a placid smirk as the current of emotions threatened to overtake her. Admrilia had not seen Asho’s betrothed since they were all eighteen. The thoughts of Iriku’s midnight black hair, smooth as silk beneath her hands, jasmine scent, and thoughtful brown eyes took her back to the Serpent. To what Admrilia had done.

  She watched as Asho drank with a group of nobles. A bitter knife twisted into her ribs. She would swallow her shame and regret when they arrived at Pi-Yenja at the end of the year. She would stand straight backed and emotionless as the princess was married off to her ungrateful, hedonistic cousin. Her hands clamped down sharply at the thought it was her instead.

  No. That was impossible, immoral, illegal. Why was she allowing herself to have these thoughts again?

  Admrilia sipped her wine, letting the mulberry taste cloud the memory of Iriku’s soft skin collapsing against hers.