Page 105 of A Game of Veils

As if any of us should really be blamed for not appreciating every aspect of his personality and his ridiculous, sadistic trials.

Those are exactly the sorts of resentments he and his father are hoping we might reveal. I take a few slow breaths as the server refills our goblets, focusing my mind on the simplest, most positive ways I could view the situation we’re in.

Keep those thoughts at the front of my mind. Shove the frustration and the horror so far down they can’t spill out no matter how much the wine loosens my tongue.

Between swallows I pace as slowly as I feel I can get away with, Marclinus leans toward me. “And our lovely princess. Am I everything you expected?”

A giggle bursts out of me alongside a jolt of panic that I couldn’t contain the sound. But it’s funny partly because I can honestly say, “Oh, yes, absolutely.”

Every bit the cruel, selfish prick I desperately hoped I’d be wrong about.

His eyes gleam with malicious mischief. “But if you could change just one thing…”

“We would already be married,” I tell him, more emphatically than I’d have preferred, but it is also true without sounding like a real complaint.

Marclinus claps his hands in approval with a laugh of his own. “I’m sorry to have delayed that promised day. It shouldn’t take much longer, if you prove yourself until the end.”

Fausta speaks up abruptly, lifting her goblet as if she’s calling for a toast. “You don’t like having competition, wild princess. Don’t like needing to prove yourself when you know we’re better than you. When we’ve been nothing but welcoming.”

Annoyance surges up inside me, but even in my increasingly blurry state, I recognize that she’s goading me. She wants me to snap back at her about her abuse.

Why?

There are things Marclinus isn’t supposed to know… about what she and Bianca have done… about how I recovered from it.

I’m already snorting at the absurdity of her statement. “Welcoming? You’ve insulted me every chance you get, even when I’ve been perfectly nice to you. You ruined my dress. You—you?—”

I shut my mouth through sheer force of will. I’m not going to talk about what happened in the woods.

It would get me in more trouble than her.

Fausta isn’t willing to let the subject go. “I what, Princess Aurelia? I think you’ve just been careless, then trying to blame your faults on others.”

My goblet wobbles in my hand. Yes, I carelessly walked into her fists and knees—not her fault at all she broke my bones?—

No. Not that. “I’m going to win fairly instead of by tearing everyone else down,” I announce. “You must be awfully afraid you’re not good enough if you think you need to attack me to make it through.”

The jab satisfies me without bringing back the panic that I’ve said too much.

Fausta growls and grabs one of the still-full wine bottles. “Let’s have another drink just the two of us, Princess. I want to celebrate His Imperial Highness’s generosity and cleverness to the fullest.”

I can’t restrain another snort, but at least it could sound like I’m mocking her desire to celebrate rather than the idea of Marclinus being generous. As she fills her glass herself and makes a grabbing gesture toward mine, he watches avidly.

What will he make of it if I refuse? Gritting my teeth, I shove the goblet across the table toward my rival. But I watch every move she makes for signs of sabotage.

I suspect she sloshes even more wine into my glass than her own, but she snatches up hers and throws it back before I can protest for a comparison. I clutch mine with an increasingly wobbly grasp and force myself to gulp.

My stomach turns. Before the end of this, Marclinus might wish he’d brought buckets after all.

He’s still watching our standoff with interest, but his attention has shifted toward Fausta. “Why does Princess Aurelia bother you so much, Lady Fausta?”

Fausta points an accusing finger at me. “She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t know Dariu, so she can’t be everything you need.”

“I’ll learn,” I retort before I can catch my mouth. My mind is absolutely reeling now. Shit.

“And surely our great country could become even greater with fresh perspectives,” Marclinus suggests.

Fausta shakes her head and then looks slightly green from the motion. “No. No. It’s perfect as it is. Just like you.”

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