Surviving A Novel I Don't Remember: A Tutor's Guide To Staying Alive

The door swung open, and a line of servants entered with the grace of clockwork dolls. Julian didn’t look up at first, but the shift in the room’s energy forced his gaze toward the lead servant.

On a velvet-lined tray sat the Amethyst Teardrop. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

The deep purple stone seemed to pulse in the dim light, and Julian’s face twisted into a scowl, his brows drawing together in a sharp, defensive line.

He knew he was supposed to have the portrait today, but wasn’t that until noon?

He had no idea it was already noon because he had slept so long due to the sedative. But even then, why did they bring a necklace to his room?

Did they mistake his room for the Empress’s? No, it was impossible. Not with the guards outside.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice sounding like dry leaves skittering over stone. "What is that for?"

He didn’t get an answer from the servants, and instead, as if on cue, the shadow of a taller figure fell across the threshold.

Aurelian stepped into the room, his eyes sweeping over Julian’s disheveled appearance—the undone laces, the hollow eyes, the book held in trembling hands—with a look of dark, satisfied intrigue.

"It is the Late Duchess’s necklace, Master Astrea," Aurelian purred, his voice a low, melodic hum.

Julian flinched. It was a sharp, involuntary jerk of his shoulders, as if he had been struck. Another of her belongings. First the letters, now the jewel.

The Emperor was systematically dressing him in the skin of a dead woman.

How did he even get the late Duchess’s necklace?

"You look like a man who has been haunted," Aurelian said, stepping closer until his shadow completely swallowed Julian’s chair. "Good. It will add a necessary depth to the portrait."

Julian gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning a ghostly white.

"This is a desecration, Your Majesty. I am not... I am not her."

Aurelian’s smirk widened, his golden eyes narrowing into fierce, predatory slits. He reached for the necklace, the silver chain clinking softly, a sound that felt like a death call in the quiet room.

"Isn’t that the question of the hour?" Aurelian mused. He leaned down, his face inches from Julian’s, his breath warm against the scholar’s cold skin. "Since you resemble the Duchess so much—in your fragility, in your intellect, in your eye, and the way you hold my brother’s heart—I thought it only fitting. Perhaps you’ll look just as good with her necklace on as she did. Or perhaps... even better."

Julian felt the bile rise in his throat, a sharp contrast to the cold weight of the amethyst as Aurelian dangled it before his eyes. The Emperor wasn’t just taunting him; he was trying to erase him completely.

Aurelian walked behind Julian’s chair, and it looked like he was planning to wear Julian the necklace himself, but Julian’s hand shot out, a desperate, reflexive motion that swiped through the air.

His fingers caught the cold silver of the chain before it was draped over his collar. He swatted the Emperor’s hand away.

The necklace slipped, the heavy amethyst teardrop swinging before it clattered against the stone floor in a dull, metallic ring.

The room plunged into a silence so absolute it felt like the air itself had been sucked out of the chamber.

The servants didn’t even breathe; they simply lowered their heads, their eyes fixed on the rug as if they could disappear into the woven fabric.

No one touched the Emperor. No one defied the Sun of the Empire.

And no one absolutely swatted his hand away.

Julian didn’t look back. He couldn’t. He sat frozen in the chair, his shoulders hunched, his second hand gripping tightly in his lap.

He was trembling—not a soft shiver, but a violent shaking that made the book on his knees fall off.

"Don’t," Julian whispered, his voice cracking into a jagged, broken thing. "Don’t... do this. Not this. Please."

Behind him, he could feel the heat of Aurelian’s presence. He didn’t need to see the Emperor’s face to know the expression he was wearing. He could feel the predatory focus, the slow, simmering amusement that Julian had finally, finally shown a crack.

Aurelian didn’t strike him. He didn’t call the guards to pin Julian’s arms back.

Instead, the Emperor moved with agonizing slowness, his shadow stretching long and dark across the floor until it swallowed Julian’s hands.

"Such fire, Master Astrea," Aurelian purred, his voice a low, vibrating hum right against the back of Julian’s ear. "I hadn’t realized you possessed such... spirit. It’s a shame to waste it on a struggle you’ve already lost."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the skin of Julian’s neck. He didn’t use force; he didn’t need to. He used words that made Julian’s bones rattle in his skin.

"If my touch is so repulsive to you," Aurelian whispered, his tone almost tender. Almost. "...perhaps I should call for the children? Cassian and Liora are quite fond of their Master, aren’t they? I imagine they would be delighted to help dress you. They might even recognize the stones from the portraits. It would be a lovely family memory... their aunt’s ghost, draped over their favorite teacher, by their own small hands."

Julian’s breath hitched, a sharp, sob-like sound that he caught in the back of his throat.

The image was a thousand times worse than anything else he could endure. He thought of Cassian’s fierce loyalty and Liora’s wide, innocent eyes—and the thought of them being forced to participate in this mockery made the bile rise in his throat.

Aurelian knew exactly where Julian’s sanctuary lay, and he was pouring salt into the soil.

"No," Julian choked out, the word barely audible. "Leave them out of this."

"Then be a good doll, Julian Von Astrea," Aurelian murmured. "And stay still."

The Emperor reached down, his fingers brushing against Julian’s as he retrieved the silver chain with the purple gemstone.

Julian didn’t fight him this time. He sat as rigid as a statue, staring blankly at the dust motes dancing in the morning light as he felt the cold, heavy weight of the amethyst settle against the skin around his collarbone and neck.