Page 138 of A Game of Veils

None of my new hangers-on give any sign that they remember someone died last night—a woman who used to be a lady and their peer. They barely seem to recognize that I wasn’t having the time of my life dancing on bleeding feet.

Possibly, as far as they’re concerned, any task that could lead to marrying the imperial heir is an honor more than a trial.

After several minutes of painful conversation, Fausta minces around the fountain toward me with a couple of her friends in tow. I tense up automatically at the sight of her bright red hair, but my smile never budges.

She smiles back at me, so wide and unassuming I’m unnerved. “It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it, Your Highness?”

I fight to keep a dry edge of disbelief out of my voice. “Yes, quite lovely.”

She adjusts the small hat perched on her head and gives the slightest of respectful curtsies. “There are so few of us left now… It wouldn’t do for us to be at each other’s throats, would it? What’s done is done. Now the best woman will win by her own strengths, as you’ve always said.”

I don’t believe she really buys into that sentiment, not for a second. Does she think I’ll lower my guard if she plays nice for a day? Or is there some trick embedded even in this sham of kindness?

My tone stays mild. “It would be wonderful if tomorrow’s trial could be all about our personal abilities.”

Fausta lets out a melodic giggle. “I know you’ll give me a challenge. You’ve pushed me to be an even better match for His Imperial Highness than I was before. I should thank you for that.”

“I’m glad my efforts have been appreciated.”

She lingers through a turn about the garden and more aimless conversation before veering off to consult with Bianca when our group crosses paths with the vicerene. Bianca aims a narrow glance my way as if she’s not even going to pretend to be on board with this supposed truce.

We move to the lawn for a series of games that are enjoyable only in that I know no one will be bleeding or dead at the end of them. I’ve just finished a round of tossing rings, which has seemed to be more about watching the ribbons twined around the silver hoops flutter in the breeze than landing them anywhere near the designated posts, when a footman approaches me.

“His Imperial Highness would see you now, Princess Aurelia.”

My turn. I nod as if I’m grateful and follow him through the garden.

He leads me all the way to the edge of the woods, where I find Marclinus waiting in a typical casual pose but with his eyes unsettlingly alert.

He cocks his head, his small smile lifting the scar through his upper lip. “Since you’ve mentioned your fondness for forestland, I thought we could take a stroll through my personal woods together. I even brought an appropriate snack.” He tosses a small silk bag in his hand. “Baked lacquernuts. Do you like them?”

They’re a childhood favorite among almost all Accasians. Just hearing the name brings a smoky sweetness of remembered flavor onto my tongue.

I’ve never seen them in the imperial palace. Did he import some specially for this occasion?

What’s he playing at?

I keep those questions to myself and amble over to join him. “I do, quite a bit. It’s generous of you to have arranged something from my old home.”

As I reach him, Marclinus sets off into the woods, clearly expecting me to keep pace. He pops one of the nuts into his mouth and offers them to me so I can pluck one out.

I suppose the fact that he’s eating from the bag at random should reassure me that they’re not doctored in any way. I force myself to select one without hesitation.

It does taste like home, the crisp yet creamy taste spreading through my mouth as I chew. Like winter nights by the big hearth in the castle’s great hall, listening to the bards sing stories with my family and friends around me.

The imperial heir takes a rambling path, skirting patches of underbrush and turning his face to meet the gusts of breeze that ripple through his golden hair. But he spends at least as much time watching me as he does absorbing the atmosphere.

“What do you like about the woods?” he asks rather abruptly.

What would be the most appealing response to that question, as far as he’s concerned? I pop another lacquernut into my mouth to buy me a little time.

If I let myself forget who I’m walking with for a moment, breathe in the fresh scents of the trees and listen to the chirps and scurrying of the wildlife we pass, it’s easier to compose my words. “I think it reminds me that there are things bigger than myself, that I’m just a piece of a much larger picture, but that picture is vibrant and full of life—all the more, the more you look for it. And spending some time away from all other concerns is good for clearing my head so I can focus on what’s most important.”

Marclinus hums. “And what would that be, Your Highness? What’s most important to you right now?”

I don’t have to think about that answer. “Proving myself worthy of you, of course. That’s all I’ve wanted since the moment I set out for Dariu.”

“All you could possibly want?”

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