Know Your Enemy

*Ana*

"They're doing it again," Naska grumbles.

"Doing what?" I look up from my book. She is at the window, staring down at the rose garden.

"You mean more people are in the garden today?" I'd noticed the crowds growing—both in the palace and the court. New faces arriving for my coronation. Or rather, old ones. Lords, mostly. Older men lingering in the halls, in the gardens, eager to speak with me.

Like Duke Zaver. I frown. I seem to keep bumping into him. He always wants to talk.

"Look at them. It's like a bunch of ants." Naska huffs, rolling her eyes. "I should tell Lord Mykhol."

"Tell him what? That people are walking the gardens?" I smirk at the absurdity. 

"You really don't see why they are down there? It's because you are usually-"

"They what, Naska?" I ask curiously.

She just looked at me for a beat, then snorted. "Never mind." With a swift tug, she closed the curtains, shutting out the light.

But a wind parts them again, scattering grains of sand across the floor. Summer is fading, giving way to autumn's storms. Time has passed quickly–too quickly.

I can't believe my coronation is just around the corner.

Which I'm more than ready to be over with, I exhale. Honestly, for as much as I wanted to become Empress, this whole business frustrates me. I wanted to be efficient and focused.

But all anyone talks about is the coronation and gowns. I've made little progress.

It's been only I who seems to care, what with Admiral Nugen still out. It's a frustrating feeling. I clench my books with a soft huff. I don't like to just sit around. 

Especially not to resize dress after dress. I grumble softly, eyeing back at the mannequins. 

At least that ordeal was over. My new gowns are ready— all replacements thanks to the growth spurt. They are pretty, but none are purple, of course. I doubt there will be any time soon. 

Not if Aunt Funda had anything to say about it. My gaze fell on the last mannequin. My coronation gown.

I hate it. 

What was Aunt Funda thinking?

The gown somehow is both absurdly expensive and gaudy–dripping in rubies and emeralds, gold embroidery winding over deep green fabric. The richness of it makes me beg to ask how much we spent. Not that anyone had asked my opinion.

I tap my finger against the book. The whole ordeal of it still irritates me.

I should have more say in the matter. Empress or not, they still treat me like a child who can't choose a dress. Even if I didn't care much for fashion, I do have some opinions. But Aunt Funda and the seamstress guarded the designs from me, sworn to secrecy as if the dress itself were a matter of state.

Maddie would have let me design my dress if she were still–

I trace the embroidery on my shawl, my chest tightening at the memory of her smile. But I don't think of her as often anymore. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it meant I was moving on.

The thought made me squeeze my book, yet, at the same time… something in me felt lighter. As if an unseen weight had finally begun to unravel.

A quiet peace settles over me.

I take a deep breath and turn back to my book. Today, at least, is mine. No measurements. No court. Nowhere to go.

Though, it's quite a different story for him. For once, Mykhol is not with me in the study. He is off, getting measured for his outfit for the coronation. 

Poor Mykhol. I hope he fares better than I did, but I doubt he'll mind.

He may not want to admit it. But I know he cares about his appearance. Every occasion he warrants a new tunic, his gold earrings polished to a shine. Unlike me, he probably enjoys a chance for new clothes.

The door opens, and I immediately sit up. Bruno is back. He is the spitting image of Naska—same hair color and freckles, even the same square chin. Only his eyes are different.

His father's, I assume. The mystery man Naska never speaks of, no matter how many times I ask.

"Hello, Bruno." I smile. He looks up at me with a start before beaming back a gap-toothed grin.

"Oh, hi—" Bruno starts—right before his tray tips dangerously to one side.

I frown immediately. The tray is enormous for his little arms. Who would give him such a task? What were they thinking?

"Careful—" I'm already moving before I think, reaching to help. "Here, let me get this."

Bruno hesitates, his fingers tightening on the tray. His eyes flick toward me, then past me—to where his mother stands. I can see the moment of uncertainty, the way he wavers, caught between instinct and duty.

Then, he makes his choice. He nods, small hands releasing just enough for me to take the weight.

"Oh, thank you—"

"Bruno."

Naska's sharp tone cuts through the air. The boy flinches. His head lowers, eyes darting to the floor.

"Naska, you don't need to." I start, but she isn't listening. Her gaze flicked to the tray, lips pressed together.

 I bet she is wondering the same thing as I just was. But if she is, she doesn't express it. Instead, her face hardens.

"Bruno, bow." She commands, voice firm in a way I didn't expect. It's the voice of a mother to a child. 

Bruno moved, dropping to one knee, hand over his heart. "Hello, Empress." 

"Now, the tray," 

Bruno's little hands reach up, carefully carrying it this time.

The boy is solemn now. He must think it is crucial to do it properly. 

And it will be. I find myself needing to play along. I stay in character as I turn to point.

"Can you carry the tray to my desk there?" I nod over, and Bruno lifts his head. 

"Yes, your Empress." His eyes shine with purpose as he takes up the new tasks. He lifts his head. Determined. He almost trips over the carpet.

"Careful-" I reach out, but he quickly straightens.

"I got it."

 He stumbles just once more before he gets the tray to my desk. I catch the triumphant little smile light up his face.

I hid my own. Can't break character, after all?

"Thank you, Bruno." I take my seat, pulling out the red wax pillar and stamp. All that's left to do is seal the envelopes, and the invitations are ready.

While I wait for the wax to warm in the candle, Bruno edges closer. Eyes flickering between the candle and me.

"What is this?" he whispers, fingers fidgeting with curiosity.

"They are invitations to the coronation." I slide one toward him.

"Coron-what?" 

"It means I get to be Empress."

He blinked, tilting his head. Then, his attention snapped to the wax.

"Here, hold it like this." I guide his small hands. Wax drips onto the envelope, and I press in the seal. When I lift it, the bat and crescent moon indent the wax>

"Ooh." His eyes widen. "Can I-"

"Bruno, come here," Naska calls.

Bruno hesitates, casting one last, long glance at the stamp but obeys. He scurries to her side. Naska pulls him in.

For a brief second, her usual attitude slips, and I can see her become tender. Her hand links into Bruno's, and she kisses his head. It's a tender moment between mother and child. Something even Naska can be capable of. 

I can't help but feel lonely at the sight. 

"Anyway," I turned back to seal the invitation, smiling after the address–Dawny.

 "I hope they can both come," I murmur, tracing their names.

I place their envelope on the pile and reach for the next. The list stretches on—names I barely recognize, yet I cannot afford to forget.

I sigh heavily.

"I didn't think being Empress would mean hours of writing to people I barely know." 

*Naska*

Naska continued leaning over as if kissing Bruno's head. But it was a farce. She was checking to see what Ana was doing. Sure enough, she was distracted by the invites.

Good. Naska smiled. She was glad Bruno carried those things in. It would mean Ana will stay busy for a while. 

Just in time, she needed the distraction. 

"Bruno, I need you to look at those men down there,"She whispered, shifting the curtain wider. "Remember those faces, and so you can tell Lady Funda." 

"Yes, mama." Bruno nodded as his eyes quietly scanned the crowd below. 

Suitors, She was told about them. And that they were around. But they were nothing but pests in her eyes. 

Pests who were trying to sneak in and take what my Mykhol had already; She narrowed her eyes as she watched them rumble about below. No doubt, they were hoping Ana would come down to the rose garden. But they were out of luck. 

Or out of their minds. Naska thought. She still couldn't believe so many were pining for the girl. 

Men will do anything for power, won't they? 

Mykhol certainly was. Naska knew. But it would work out in the end. She was sure of it.

I have to make sure it goes his way.

"Did you get that, Bruno? Do you know their faces?"She went to have her son nod. 

"Then go find Lady Funda and tell her what you saw."

"Yes, mama." She allowed him to slip away and meander over to the door.

"Bruno?" Ana lifted her head. "Are you going already?"

"He needs to fetch me some supplies." Naska volunteered while she just nodded. 

"Then you best hurry.' Her smile made Naska cringe. But it was Bruno's smile that narrowed her eyes.

Naska shifted her jaw. She thought she had been clear, but Bruno still didn't grasp the concept. she would have to re-teach him later.

Ana was the problem. If not for her, they would be together. Where he belonged.

And all that I am due. Naska thought about looking over at the mannequins. Her eyes stopped, and the last and most lavish one. It sparkled like a star with all the rubies and emeralds.

I'll look far better in it than she ever will. Her fingers curled against the curtain. That dress—it was hers. Not Ana's. The rubies, the emeralds.

Why else would they have chosen her favorite gems?