THE EMPRESS I FORGOT

Chapter 7: The First Blood at Court

The first clock exploded into pieces before Julian could even reach Aurelia's side.

Its thick glass face shattered violently across the archive floor, scattering heavy fragments that hung suspended in the air for a single heartbeat before crashing down against the cold stone. Every other clock in the surrounding chamber continued turning rapidly backward, their metal hands spinning faster and faster until the collective noise became an unbearable, deafening chorus of grinding gears.

Aurelia clutched the royal decree tightly against her chest, staring directly into the dark, suffocating spaces between the high bookshelves.

“Mother?” she whispered into the darkness, her voice trembling.

Mira Thorne immediately seized her arm with a firm grip. “Your Majesty, we need to leave this room right now. Whatever is speaking to us from the dark, it is not safe!”

“You heard her speak!” Aurelia replied, forcefully shaking Mira's hand off her arm. “That voice clearly knows what happened in this palace seventeen years ago!”

“And it is deliberately using your dead mother's voice to keep you trapped here!” Mira countered sharply.

Julian barely processed their heated argument. His intense focus had become completely fixed on the glowing golden mark spreading rapidly across his open palm. The symbol had expanded far beyond its original circular border, its thirteen slender hands extending beneath his wrist like thin, luminous veins beneath his skin. With every backward revolution of the surrounding clocks, a new, overwhelming sensation pressed heavily against his mind, carrying the crushing weight of a memory that did not belong to his present life.

He saw a grand palace burning beneath a pitch-black sky.

He heard the terrified screams of a young child echoing through stone corridors.

Then, he saw Aurelia standing before a shattered marble throne, holding a bloodstained dagger in her hand while a younger version of himself lay completely motionless at her feet.

Julian staggered backward, colliding hard against a heavy bookshelf.

Aurelia rushed forward and caught him before he could hit the floor, and for one strange, fleeting instant, the raw fear in her dark eyes appeared more deeply intimate than anything he could recall about her.

“What did you just see in your mind?” she demanded desperately, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“I saw you,” Julian gasped out, struggling to catch his breath.

Her grip on him tightened. “What about me?”

“You were standing directly over my lifeless body.”

Aurelia released her hold on him instantly, recoiling as though his spoken words had burned her fingers.

Before she could offer an answer, the grinding clocks stopped turning.

Every single mechanism in the room fell completely still at once. The crushing silence that followed was so absolute that Julian could clearly hear the faint tapping of the storm's rain against the distant glass windows. The glowing golden symbol on his palm slowly faded back beneath his skin, and the excruciating pressure behind his eyes vanished as abruptly as it had arrived.

Mira looked toward the archway of the archive entrance, her sword drawn. “We are leaving this place. Right now.”

This time, Aurelia offered no argument.

They hurried through the quiet, torch-lit corridors toward the main wing of the palace, where scattered groups of frightened servants and guards had gathered in confused clusters. No one understood why every single clock in the imperial wing had suddenly stopped working simultaneously, and no one dared to be the first person to voice the terrifying suggestion that the ancient mechanism buried beneath the palace had begun behaving like a living, breathing entity.

As they approached the base of the grand staircase, a high-ranking palace chamberlain hurried toward Aurelia, bowing low.

“Your Majesty, the grand reception is fully prepared to begin,” the man reported anxiously. “The northern diplomatic delegation has officially arrived in the hall, and Lord Cassian firmly insists that you attend the gathering personally.”

Aurelia's stoic expression hardened into stone. “Tell my uncle that I will be there shortly.”

The chamberlain bowed again and quickly bustled away down the corridor.

Julian stared at her in complete disbelief. “You actually intend to attend a public reception after what just happened in the archives?”

“If I disappear from the court right now,” Aurelia explained coldly, “Cassian will immediately use my absence to convince the council that I am mentally unfit to rule this empire.”

“And what happens if someone attempts to kill you in that room?” Julian challenged.

Aurelia turned her head and met his sharp gaze directly. “Then I expect you to do precisely what you did on the execution platform.”

Julian looked down at his marked palm. “You do not truly understand what it costs me every single time I use this power.”

“No,” she admitted softly, her tone dropping its royal edge. “I do not. However, I understand all too well what happens to this empire if you fail.”

For the very first time, Julian caught a glimpse of something beneath her impenetrable composure that looked remarkably like sheer exhaustion. Aurelia was trapped within the exact same terrifying mystery that haunted his own existence, yet the weight of the crown demanded that she continue pretending she held total control over the situation.

He wanted to hate her for keeping vital secrets from him. Instead, he found himself quietly wondering how many years she had been forced to carry this fear all by herself.

“I will stand beside you tonight,” he said quietly. “However, if you know anything at all about the true price of my power, you will tell me the truth before I am forced to use it again.”

Aurelia held his gaze for a long moment. “I promise you that I will.”

Julian desperately wanted to believe her, and that willingness was what frightened him most of all.

The grand reception hall glittered brilliantly beneath the light of hundreds of burning wax candles when Aurelia entered the room with Julian walking steadily beside her. Rich orchestral music drifted down from the upper balconies, attentive servants carried silver trays of wine and exotic fruit between the wealthy guests, and the northern delegation stood waiting in formal attire near the raised dais.

No one in the room mentioned the sudden stopping of the clocks.

No one dared to speak about the eerie, mysterious voice that had echoed through the archives.

The imperial nobility had long ago perfected the art of completely ignoring anything that threatened their comforting illusion of stability.

Lord Cassian glided toward the imperial couple, wearing a broad smile that did not extend to his cold eyes. “Your Majesty, the northern delegation has expressed some mild concern regarding the recent magical disturbances in the city. They have politely requested reassurance that the imperial throne remains secure.”

“The throne remains entirely secure, Uncle,” Aurelia answered smoothly.

“Then perhaps you will allow them to witness your prospective fiancé demonstrate the harmless, harmless nature of his unusual abilities,” Cassian suggested smoothly, gesturing toward Julian.

Julian turned his head toward the older nobleman. “And what specific abilities would you like me to demonstrate for your amusement, my lord?”

Cassian's smile widened. “The very same abilities that interrupted a public imperial execution and awakened a long-forbidden clock, of course. Surely a man preparing to marry the supreme empress can offer the court a small demonstration to grant us reassurance.”

Several nearby guests chuckled nervously behind their hands.

Julian understood the trap instantly. If he flatly refused to demonstrate his power, Cassian could easily paint him as a dangerous fraud or a coward in front of the court. If he agreed to demonstrate it, the nobility would relentlessly demand further displays until he had nothing left inside himself to sacrifice.

Aurelia stepped forward, her posture rigid. “Julian is not a street performer brought here for your entertainment, Uncle.”

“Of course he is not,” Cassian replied smoothly. “He is your official fiancé, which is precisely why this court deserves to know exactly what it is welcoming into the imperial family.”

Before Aurelia could offer another sharp rebuttal, an elegant woman stepped out from the gathered northern delegation. She wore a dark green gown and a polished silver brooch shaped in the likeness of a raven. Her facial expression appeared pleasant, but her dark eyes scanned Julian's face with an unsettling, calculating precision.

“Perhaps we should not trouble the young man tonight,” she remarked, her voice smooth and measured. “After all, certain rare gifts are never meant to be casually displayed for crowds.”

Julian studied her face carefully. “Have we met somewhere before?”

“Not in this current life, no,” the woman replied with a subtle smile. She turned and drifted back into the crowd before he could ask her to clarify.

Aurelia noticed his intense reaction to the stranger. “Who was that woman?”

“I have no idea,” Julian admitted, his brow furrowing. “However, she just explicitly told me that she knew me in another life.”

The empress's posture visibly stiffened at his words.

Before either of them could pursue the woman, the orchestra transitioned into a new, formal waltz, and the assembled guests turned their attention toward the central dance floor. Aurelia offered her gloved hand to Julian, leaving him with little choice but to lead her into the middle of the room under the watchful eyes of the court.

“You are going to dance with me,” she murmured under her breath as they took their positions.

“I was nearly executed yesterday morning, attacked by an assassin tonight, and informed that I may have died before I was even born,” Julian noted dryly. “Dancing feels like an oddly specific form of punishment.”

“Consider it necessary preparation for royal marriage.”

“Is marriage to an empress always this thoroughly unpleasant?”

“Only when the husband insists on asking too many questions,” she countered.

Despite the crushing weight of their situation, a genuine laugh escaped Julian's chest. The sudden sound surprised them both, cutting through the performative tension between them.

For a few quiet moments, they moved in unison beneath the grand chandeliers, Aurelia subtly guiding him through the intricate steps while he focused intensely on avoiding the hem of her elaborate midnight-blue gown. The loud music softened into a gentle melody, and the sharp dynamic between them settled into something quiet and real—a fleeting connection that neither of them was prepared to acknowledge aloud.

Then, Aurelia's fingers suddenly tightened around his with painful force.

“Julian, listen to me very carefully,” she whispered, her tone dropping to an urgent murmur. “If anything happens in this room tonight, you must not use your power under any circumstances unless you have no other choice left.”

“Why are you warning me now?” he asked, searching her eyes.

“Because the very last time someone unleashed that power in this room,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly, “an entire noble family was completely erased from history.”

A sharp, bloodcurdling scream tore through the delicate orchestral music.

Aurelia's body jerked violently.

Julian looked down in sheer horror as a narrow black steel blade protruded from her side, just beneath her ribs.

For one impossible, frozen second, neither of them moved. Aurelia's dark eyes widened in complete disbelief, and dark blood rapidly spread across the silver thread embroidery of her gown.

Then, the assassin materialized directly behind her, his features entirely concealed beneath a plain wooden servant's mask.

“Your Majesty,” the killer whispered into her ear, “the final hour has arrived at last.”

He ripped the bloody blade free with a swift pull.

Aurelia's legs gave out, and she collapsed heavily into Julian's arms.

The orchestra abruptly stopped playing. Horrified guests screamed in panic and scattered toward the exits as armed imperial guards rushed frantically toward the dance floor. However, the masked assassin moved with terrifying speed. He slammed a small glass vial down against the marble floor, releasing a dense plume of black smoke that instantly swallowed the space around them.

Julian lowered Aurelia gently to the cold marble floor. Her breathing had already become rapid and shallow, her skin turning deathly pale.

“Stay with me!” he pleaded desperately, pressing both of his hands firmly against the gushing wound in her side. “You cannot die here tonight!”

Aurelia struggled to focus her failing eyes on his face. “I am so sorry, Julian,” she whispered faintly.

“What are you apologizing for?” he begged, tears stinging his eyes.

Her pale lips trembled. “For making you forget me.”

Her eyes rolled back, and her head fell limp against his arm.

In that devastating moment, something deep inside Julian broke completely.

He felt the golden mark awaken beneath his skin, burning brighter and far more painfully than it ever had before. The chaotic ballroom blurred around him as the familiar, eerie stillness gathered at the absolute edges of his perception.

He fully understood what unleashing his power might cost him this time. He knew he risked losing yet another precious memory—perhaps one of the few remaining fragments of his mother's face, or the growing, inexplicable connection he felt toward the woman currently dying in his arms.

However, he simply could not sit by and watch Aurelia die.

“Take the second,” he whispered into the dark.

The entire world ground to an absolute halt.

Spilled red wine hung suspended in midair above shattered glass crystal. Plumes of black smoke froze in twisted, motionless ribbons across the dance floor. The assassin stood locked in place beside them, his bloody blade raised high for a second strike.

Julian pressed his bleeding palm directly over the gaping wound in Aurelia's side.

A torrent of brilliant golden light flowed from his skin, pouring directly into her dying body. For one incredible, terrifying instant, he watched the severe wound sew itself closed, the spilled blood retreat backward into her flesh, and the color return to her pale face. However, the ancient magic demanded its absolute payment before it would release her soul from the grip of death.

A forgotten memory forcefully surfaced in Julian's mind.

He saw Aurelia standing in a sunlit palace garden beneath a grand, flowering tree, laughing softly as warm summer rain soaked through her dark hair. She appeared younger in the memory—perhaps sixteen years old—and Julian stood directly opposite her, wearing formal imperial clothes that clearly belonged to another century entirely.

She reached her hand out toward him with a gentle smile. “You promised me that you would find me again,” she said softly.

Julian tried desperately to cling to the beautiful image, but the brilliant golden light completely consumed the memory, burning it into ash.

He could no longer remember the warmth of that garden moment. He could no longer even be certain if the encounter had truly occurred.

Time resumed its natural flow with a sudden, deafening rush of sound.

The assassin's falling blade struck empty marble air as Aurelia drew a sudden, violent gasp of breath into her restored lungs. Julian collapsed forward onto his hands, gasping for air as a team of imperial guards tackled the masked assassin to the floor, pinning him down.

The grand ballroom erupted into absolute chaos.

Aurelia coughed violently, her dark eyes snapping open.

Julian stared down at her, his entire body trembling with a mixture of profound relief and raw horror. “You are alive.”

She reached her hand up toward his face, her fingers hovering near his cheek. “Julian?”

He caught her hand in his. “I am right here.”

However, as Aurelia looked deeply into his eyes, the initial relief on her face slowly withered away into profound sorrow.

“You do not remember,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Julian frowned in confusion, his chest aching. “Remember what?”

She pulled her hand back and began to weep silently.

Before he could ask her another question, the captured assassin let out a raspy, mocking laugh from beneath the heavy boots of the guards holding him down.

“You absolute fools!” the killer spat, blood bubbling from his lips. “Do you truly believe that saving her life tonight was your victory?”

Mira Thorne knelt beside the pinned assassin and slammed the point of her dagger against his throat. “Who gave you the order to attack the empress?”

The assassin's dark gaze shifted away from Mira and locked directly onto Julian's face. “The empress's mother gave me the order.”

Aurelia went completely rigid on the floor. “That is impossible. My mother has been dead for seventeen years!”

The assassin offered a bloody, sinister smile. “Then why did she personally promise me a massive reward for ending your life tonight?”

Before anyone could react, he bit down hard on a small glass capsule hidden between his back teeth.

Mira shouted for a palace physician, but the assassin's entire body convulsed violently before anyone could intervene. Dark, ink-black veins spread rapidly across his face and neck, and within a matter of seconds, he lay completely lifeless on the marble floor.

One of the imperial guards quickly searched the dead man's coat and discovered a folded strip of parchment sewn directly into the inner lining.

Mira unstitched the paper and opened it. Her posture froze, and her face completely drained of all color.

“What does the note say, Mira?” Julian asked, leaning forward.

She handed the parchment directly to Aurelia.

Written across the page in the same blood-red ink that had appeared on their engagement contract earlier were seven distinct words:

LET THE TIMEBEARER SAVE THE EMPRESS.

Directly beneath that message, a second sentence had been written:

THE MEMORY MUST BE TAKEN BEFORE THE THIRTEENTH HOUR IS RESTORED.

Aurelia stared at the written text, and then she turned her head to look at Julian with genuine, unvarnished terror in her eyes.

Then, she whispered the horrific realization that caused the blood to completely drain from Julian's face.

“Julian,” she murmured, her voice shaking violently. “The assassin was never actually trying to kill me.”

She reached out and gripped his hand with trembling fingers.

“He was attacking me to force you to save my life... so you would lose the memory of who I am.”