Page 128 of A Game of Veils

I shuffle to one side and the other, rippling my skirt to make the movement look more artful. My attention stays glued to the most literal predator in our midst.

The panther prowls around the platform, its muscles flexing throughout its intimidating but graceful body. I edge away from it as well as I can while following the melody. The beast makes a harsh rumbling sound low in its throat, its amber gaze sweeping across all of us in turn.

The chain is just long enough to let it roam the platform freely but not venture beyond. Although I’d imagine Emperor Tarquin asked for his high vantage point to ensure his and his son’s safety should the creature manage to break free.

The largest wild cats we have in Accasy are sturdy lynxes that stand no taller than my waist and flee at the sight of humans. I don’t know what might provoke this animal or how to ward off an attack.

There usually seems to be strength in numbers. The more imposing we seem, the less likely it’ll judge us to be easy prey.

I mince over to Leonette and urge Giralda to join us. “Dance close to each other. If it sees us together, we’ll look harder to pick off.”

Leonette’s stern expression doesn’t shift, but she takes a couple of steps toward me. Sweat has beaded along the roots of her chestnut hair, but her curvy yet athletic form emanates determined strength.

Giralda bobs and turns, veering in our direction. Before she’s made it very far, Bianca’s arch voice pierces through the murmurs of the crowd.

“I hope none of you are stupid enough to fall for the wild princess’s tricks. She’ll lure you in like bait if you let her.”

I’m too focused on avoiding the panther and willing away the pain in my feet to argue with her taunts. Giralda hesitates and then stays where she is, still several paces away from us.

“Go on,” someone says behind me, and I find out what the nobles were given. Bits of meat and poultry bones fly through the air to fall at the panther’s feet. One bloody scrap splats against my skirt.

The scent of flesh brings another snarl to the predator’s lips. They curl back to reveal its fangs. When a bone strikes the panther’s haunches, it whips its head around with a snap.

Now we have even more to dodge as our feet flit across our stage. My already raw heel comes down on a shard of bone, and a cry I can’t catch breaks from my throat.

I haven’t quite righted myself when Fausta’s chin twitches toward me.

Whatever illusion she’s cast with her gift, it’s so concentrated only the panther must see it. But it’s enough to enrage the beast.

It lunges around with a roar and hurls itself straight at me.

My pulse lurches. I mean to fling myself out of the way, but as I strain my feet to propel me, my sore leg gives.

I stumble, throwing out my hands to catch my fall. The uneven tiles scour my palms. The panther’s hurtling paws pound toward me.

And with a choked gasp, a body hurtles into the space between the beast and me.

As I whip around, the panther crashes into the woman who’s jumped in front of me. Blond curls billow out around her freckled face. Claws rake through the maid uniform with a horrible tearing sound that’s more than just fabric.

Rochelle crumples beneath the animal’s charge. Blood spurts from the gouges across her chest and belly.

“No.” The word lurches out of me, so hoarse it’s little more than a rasp.

The panther catches one of Rochelle’s arms in its jaws and wrenches it back and forth with a guttural growl. My friend whimpers with a sputter of scarlet liquid over her lips. Her breath is already fading into broken hitches.

I push myself toward her with some ridiculous idea that I could fight the beast off her, but it turns out I don’t need to. The taste of blood and the sight of her limp form appears to mollify the huge cat.

It rips a chunk of flesh off her arm and backs away, gulping the mouthful down. Then one of the chunks of beef tossed onto the stage catches its attention.

I grasp Rochelle’s shoulder, turn her toward me, and clamp my teeth against a yelp. The wreckage of her ravaged torso makes my stomach flip over.

Gods help me, what can I do? I reach toward my gift, but no images rise up.

There’s nothing. Nothing at all.

Words spill out of me in a mumbled torrent. “What were you doing? You weren’t supposed to— You shouldn’t have?—”

Rochelle gazes blearily at me, her lips curving into a shaky smile. “You saved me. I save you. Win it. You have to win…”

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