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returned to the apothecary in the company of two Legaciatti. He would be sorry to leave this place behind. Appius, the old master, wasn’t getting any younger, and Marius was certain the man had meant to retire and leave the business to Marius within the next few years. Now Appius would have to start over with a new apprentice.
    He sorted through his clothes, picking out the nicer items. When was he going to wake up and realize this was all a dream, or perhaps some kind of nightmare? Lucien had asked him to pack lightly; most of his things would be replaced in Riat. The emperor meant to dress him in imperial silks, apparently, but Marius doubted he would ever feel comfortable in fancy clothes. Put a mule in a fancy harness, and it was still a mule. How could a village hayseed like himself ever pass for an imperial? It wasn’t just the clothes he lacked. He didn’t have the right mannerisms, the right education, or even the right accent. The courtiers at the palace would laugh at him.
    In coming here to take them from Osler, was Lucien rescuing his family or destroying them? His mother saw Lucien as a villain, but Marius wasn’t sure anymore. She’d lied to Marius all his life. She’d claimed to be illiterate, but if she’d been raised in the Imperial Palace as the daughter of an emperor, she’d have been educated as such. That meant she could have taught him to read and write if she’d chosen to. How much did she know, how much talent did she possess, that she’d never offered to share with him? Why had she never told him the truth about his family?
    He had, for the most part, been happy in Osler. He liked his job and his family. He would confess he was a bit lonely and anxious about his prospects for marriage. The selection of young women in Osler was limited. He’d courted two young ladies in succession, but hadn’t fallen in love with either of them. After witnessing all his life the deep love his parents felt for each other, he knew he would settle for nothing less in his own marriage, and at twenty-two, he was starting to feel old for a bachelor.
    He’d packed everything he wanted, and the travel chest was only half full. Pathetic. He closed it, and one of the guards stepped forward. “I’ll get that, sir.”
    “Thanks,” said Marius, bemused. Sir.
    He followed the guard out of his apartment, down the steps, and along the dirt road to where the carriage waited.
    His mother’s forbidden love was the cause of all this mess. She had fallen in love with the wrong man—at least, one her father didn’t approve of. But there was no sense being angry with her for leaving the imperial palace. If she had not eloped with his father, Marius himself would never have been born. Neither would Laelia, or apparently Rhianne. Wait a minute, I’m half noble and half commoner. Would he be scorned for that? Perhaps not. Lucien didn’t seem to care, and his sister Rhianne had done well enough, marrying the king of Mosar.
    Maybe the villain of this saga was neither Lucien nor his mother, but long-dead Nigellus, who’d tried to force an unwanted marriage on his daughter. Perhaps a single ill act spilled over from generation to generation, unstoppable, like a waterfall over rocks.
    At the carriage, Marius clasped wrists with the emperor. “Your Imperial Majesty, are you going to break up their marriage?”
    Lucien’s brows rose. “Whose?”
    “My parents’. So my mother can marry a prince or something.”
    “Oh, gods, no.” Lucien laughed. “Has that been worrying you? The time for Sabina to make a political marriage is past, and there’s no longer any need. My sister has married into Inya and your sister into Mosar. We’ve alliances enough to last us until the next generation, and I have no quarrel with Anton. He’s been married to my aunt for over three decades, and they seem to still be in love, so why should I cause any more trouble? Obviously she chose the right man.”
    Marius’s shoulders dropped in