Page 120 of A Game of Veils

His lips move with his next words. “Is it easier for you like this? It's my gift. I can conjure illusions—the impression of divinely impressive music, or a voice... or just about anything. To a limit."

I realize I'm gaping and collect my jaw. "But the emperor—everyone—they all talk as if it's just the music."

Lorenzo's smile goes crooked before he speaks—no, appears to speak—again. "No one knows except Bastien, Raul, and Neven. It's... better if nobody finds out how much I'm capable of."

Despite my stunned state, that part of his explanation makes sense. I can only imagine how else Tarquin might exploit the supposedly mute prince if he knew.

Even Fausta with her much smaller gift with illusions was able to use it as a formidable weapon.

Something about the voice he’s conjured isn't totally alien to me. A sense of recognition seeps through my mind. "I think... I think I heard you before, just for a moment or two, when I was sick."

"That's not totally surprising. I was so worried about you, I wasn't concentrating well. I don't normally speak this way to my foster brothers when anyone else is around, just in case my focus slips or one of Tarquin's guards notices I'm using magic."

I hesitate, dizzied by the shock and the surge of pleasure I'm still coming down from. "Why are you telling me now?"

Lorenzo lets out a choked sort of chuckle that I think is real and adjusts his position over me. With impressive grace, he sits up and scoops me onto his lap.

Wrapping his arms around me, he dips his head so his chin rests against my temple. "There have been so many things I've wanted to say to you—properly, not with waves of my hands and a few words scrawled on a paper. You opened yourself up to me so much. I couldn't keep hiding this part of me from you."

A lump fills my throat, awe and anguish combined. He's trusting me with this immense secret, putting so much of his fate in my hands. Have I really offered him that much trust?

Can I ever?

The longing wells up inside me to tell him every trouble that's ever weighed on me. I swallow it down.

It's not just my fate that could hang in the balance but that of every person back in Accasy.

As the pieces of Lorenzo's story and my memories of what I've seen during my time in the palace gradually combine, a different realization hits me.

"No wonder it takes so much out of you, performing for the court. You're not using your gift on yourself to heighten your music. You have to cast the illusion over everyone in the room who's listening."

I feel Lorenzo's wince. "It can be a strain."

I turn my head to look up at him, struck by a sudden urgency. "When you’re speaking to me, you can keep it to just a voice. You don't need to make it look as if you're actually talking. That must take more out of you."

Lorenzo's breath hitches, and then he's hugging me even tighter against him. "Gods, every time I think I already know just how wonderful you are, you show me even more. How could I not fall in love with you?"

My whole body goes still. His last words resonate through my body in time with the heady thumping of my pulse. "Lorenzo..."

"I know. I know it can't go anywhere beyond this. But it's true. You should know. You should hear it from someone who means it."

The tears that nipped at my eyes earlier spill over without warning. At my smothered sob, Lorenzo cups my face and peers into my eyes. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to rub your situation in. If I could get you out of this?—"

"It's okay," I say, getting my emotions under control. I swipe at my eyes. He doesn't even really know why I'm crying.

My choices brought us here. I don't know if I've made everything even harder for myself or if this will be one glimmer of joy I can hold on to for strength through the days ahead.

"I won't be able to talk to you like this very often," Lorenzo says in an apologetic tone. "Like I said, I avoid it when anyone else is around. And sometimes it's easier even in private to stick to gestures if I can. If I don't need to extend my gift."

Because he never knows when Tarquin might decide to run him ragged. The image of him collapsing in the hall of entertainments the other night wavers through my head.

I lean closer to him again, soaking up the warmth of his muscular frame. "I understand. Thank you for sharing it with me at all." My mind keeps whirring, and another possibility occurs to me. "The other princes—their gifts?—"

Lorenzo's conjured voice turns wry. "I'll have to leave it up to them whether they want to share secrets of their own."

"Fair enough." What else might Bastien be capable of beyond summoning and dismissing rain clouds? Can Raul see more than just what's within people's clothing?

Lorenzo’s mind has turned to other relevant matters. “I have a supply of mirewort—but I haven’t been taking it myself. No need. I’ll get it to you before there’s any risk.”

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