Page 108 of A Game of Veils

But he’s still going, song after song, because not capitulating would lead to something even worse.

Bastien comes up beside me where I’m standing by one of the tall windows, out of the way of the roving crowd. He considers Lorenzo’s pose on the performer’s platform several feet away and frowns. “It’s been nearly two hours now, hasn’t it?”

I nod, my teeth setting on edge. Tarquin set Lorenzo up with his vielle the moment we came here after dinner and hasn’t given him more of a break than a minute to have a brief drink.

As we watch, Lorenzo’s bow glides to the end of the current song. His arm wobbles as he lowers it. His face looks drawn.

He glances toward Tarquin, who’s pontificating to his advisors and other high-ranking nobles by the front of the room. I can’t make out much of the emperor, but I catch the quick wave of his hand: the universal gesture for Keep going.

Lorenzo’s mouth tightens. As he raises the bow again, something about his posture makes my own body tense.

He strokes the bow across the strings, sending notes so bright they practically shimmer out into the room. The melody winds through the crowd.

And Lorenzo’s knees buckle.

A shout of alarm breaks from my throat even as I launch myself toward him. Bastien dashes after me.

The collapse seems to slow through the blurring of my adrenaline, or maybe Lorenzo is still aware enough to catch his fall a little. But then his eyes roll up, the instrument tumbling from his fingers?—

I dive forward just in time to shove my hand beneath his head so his skull smacks into my palm rather than the hard wooden platform. I barely register the twinge of pain.

“Lore!” I say, patting my other hand against his cheeks. “Hey! Can you hear me?”

His eyelids flutter. Bastien drops down beside us, his expression taut. “He pushed his gift too far. He should see a medic.”

Lorenzo reaches up to snag my arm with his fingers. He manages a firmer blink and then a shake of his head.

Ignoring him, I straighten up to scan the room for any of the imperial medics who might be in attendance. If there’s one around, they should at least take a look at him.

Instead, my gaze stalls on our other foster brother. Neven’s face has hardened into a mask of fury as he stares in our direction.

The kid’s gaze jerks to the emperor, who’s barely given Lorenzo a cursory glance after the fall. Neven is too far off amid the court nobles for me to hear his voice, but the movement of his lips is emphatic enough for me to decipher his words anyway: “Fucking bastard.”

He hurtles toward Emperor Tarquin.

My heart lurches. “Neven,” I hiss to Bastien, and jump off the platform, leaving him to help Lorenzo sit up.

The head of pale blond hair is weaving through the crowd at an aggressive pace. I’ll have to shove my way through to reach him before he gets to Tarquin, and then it’d be a scene anyway.

But at least not a scene that would see Neven executed.

I’m shouldering between a couple of barons when an unexpected voice brings me to a halt.

“Prince Neven!” The chandelier light gleams off Aurelia’s bronze-brown hair where she’s moved to intercept the kid. Between the shifting bodies that block most of my view, I make out a swift flash of her smile. “I’m so glad our paths crossed. I was hoping you could lend me that book you mentioned from your recent studies before you turn in for the night.”

What I can see of Neven’s expression is utterly baffled, his confusion momentarily fracturing his vengeful rage. I don’t know what answer stumbles out of him, but Aurelia gives an impressively easygoing laugh.

“It’s all right. I’m sure you have a lot of responsibilities to keep track of. I could walk with you now—I was about to take my leave for the evening as it is.”

She nudges him toward the doorway. Whatever Bastien said to calm his animosity toward the princess obviously sank in, because the kid doesn’t try to bite her head off instead of Tarquin’s. She manages to get him out the door without any blood spilled or even insults hurled.

I have to clamp my jaw to stop myself from gaping. That woman is nothing short of a force of nature.

Why did she even intervene? I can’t believe Neven really did offer to lend her a book—or that anything from his studies would interest her when she has access to the entire imperial library.

Bastien and Lorenzo join me, Bastien still gripping Lorenzo’s arm to steady him. They stare toward the doorway.

“I talked with her about Pavel,” Bastien says quietly. “She’d already heard a little of the story… She knows how much it matters to us to make sure Neven doesn’t get into trouble.”

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