Page 151 of A Game of Veils

My pulse hiccups. Right now? Is the entire court foregoing breakfast?

Or perhaps they’re all off in the dining room now, gorging themselves with advance notice before the main event begins.

I find it hard to summon much rancor even if that’s the case. I’d rather get this sick game over with sooner rather than later.

Melisse’s announcement at least makes my decision simple. I point to the freshly laundered white dress I was wearing during Fausta’s bout of destruction—the only remaining gown that’s tailored to fit me.

Rochelle could have adjusted the fabric so it somehow set off my figure to even better effect, but it’ll look perfectly fine as it is.

At the memory of the mornings when my friend assisted me with my dressing, my chest constricts. But even that pain feels dull and distant beyond the thumping of my heart.

Some part of me has already detached from the horrors that might await in the coming trial. I simply have to go through the motions and prepare for the final sacrifice, whatever that ends up being.

Last night’s wanton indulgence might as well have been a good-bye not just to the possibility of love but to my entire life as it’s been up until now. I got my final hurrah. Now it’s time to face my fate.

Melisse slides the light silk over my head and ensures that it’s settled right against the curves of my body. She pulls the brush through my hair with swift but careful strokes.

As soon as she’s added a little powder to my face, I pull on my slippers and get to my feet. “Let’s see what’s in store for us today.”

My maid fidgets with nerves enough for both of us as she leads me through the palace halls, down a staircase… and to the arching back doorway that leads out to the gardens.

A crowd of nobles has congregated at the far end of the broad stone path that stretches between the central flower beds. As we draw closer, I study the arching hedge that now stands between the tamer part of the grounds and the woods beyond. The court gathers on either side of it as if it’s an entrance they’re avoiding blocking.

That living arch wasn’t here yesterday. The emperor must have had someone with a gift for encouraging plant growth summon it overnight.

I halt several paces away, unsure of how to proceed. Emperor Tarquin and Marclinus are chatting with their subjects without any sign that they’ve noticed my arrival. Leonette stands on the path close to the hedge, her athletic form tensed and her gaze wary. It doesn’t appear Fausta has found her way here yet.

But she already has friends in attendance. As Melisse scurries off to see if she has new orders, Bianca sashays toward me. Her fine black hair is coiled up in an even more elaborate style than usual, sleek braids weaving between broader whorls in a tapestry of texture.

She speaks in a low voice only I can hear. “I suppose today we’ll see who truly knows what it takes to reign over Dariu. You’re going to look like a fool in the end.”

With everything else I have to consider, her barbed words barely nick me. I gaze into her pretty brown face with an unexpected sense of peace.

She’s the one afraid of looking like a fool, of losing the man she’s dallied with for so long in front of her own husband. But I’ve experienced pleasures beyond anything I can imagine ever enjoying with the man she covets.

What do I have to feel jealous about?

I offer her a reassuring smile. “I’m not going to stop you, you know.”

Bianca blinks. “Stop me?”

I tip my head toward Marclinus. The sunlight glinting off his gold crown makes the golden-blond hair it’s nestled on look tarnished. “From continuing whatever association you have with His Imperial Highness. If he wishes to enjoy your company after he’s married and you wish to indulge him, that’s between the two of you. An emperor-to-be should have everything he wants, shouldn’t he?”

She’s outright staring at me now. Her next words come out in a sputter. “You can’t really mean— My sympathies aren’t going to be swayed by frivolous lies.”

With a rustle of her skirt, she spins on her heel and stalks away.

That’s fine. I don’t really care whether she believes me, and I’d rather not have to talk to her any longer than I already have.

My searching gaze catches on the rare cluster of welcome faces amid the nobles. The princes keep their expressions impassive, but Bastien tips his head in the slightest nod after his gaze catches mine.

They’re here, watching over me, offering whatever protection they can. Gods above, let it be enough.

Footsteps rap against the smooth stone tiles, announcing Fausta’s arrival. She’s chosen a deep green gown that matches her eyes and sets off her flaming hair to even starker effect.

The embroidered pouch on the lustrous cord around her waist looks larger than what the women of the court typically use to hold their bedroom key and minor accessories. What is she carrying in there?

I’d see if I can contrive to get close enough to Raul to find out what his gift can tell him, but at that moment, Emperor Tarquin and Marclinus step in front of the arch. Tarquin claps his hands together for our attention.

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