Page 17 of A Game of Veils

His tone sounds more measured than before, though still with a hint of a teasing lilt. “Have you not had your fill of me yet today, Princess Aurelia?”

I sink into a curtsy, balancing the tray deftly as I do. “I hope to spend the rest of my days with you, Your Imperial Highness. I don’t think there can be such a thing as too much.”

Even if the lie makes me queasy.

“And what have you brought me?” He contemplates the tray with an arch of one eyebrow.

I step closer to bring it to the desk. “My gift with medicine has also given me an appreciation for the more subtle benefits a cup of tea can offer. I prepared a blend tailored to your role, for clear thinking and expression of might. It should be just finished steeping.” I tip my head toward the porcelain teapot.

Marclinus stares at the tray with an expression I can only describe as incredulous. “You made me tea.” He lets out a short bark of a laugh. “There are three cups.”

“I thought we could enjoy the drink together, and I know you have certain standards of caution.” One of the servants sipped from his wine glass and sampled his plate before the imperial heir partook at dinner, just as one did for the emperor.

“How very attentive of you.” His gaze lifts from the tray to my face, skimming over my chest in the process. “Was there anything else you were hoping I’d partake of?”

I have to bite my tongue, unable to suppress the flush that pricks at my cheeks—although maybe it’s better he sees it and thinks I’m embarrassed by the insinuation.

He can’t know my reaction is actually anger.

I lower my eyes as if in modesty. “I have no wish to circumvent the proper process of our engagement. I would like to get to know you better, but speaking will do perfectly well as a start.”

Marclinus hums. “So you came to seduce me with tea. Well, I’m quite certain it isn’t going to sway my judgment of the coming trials, and I’m not particularly parched, so I’ll pass. But thank you for the gesture.”

He doesn’t sound remotely thankful. I grasp for something I can say that might keep the conversation going without criticizing his methods. “If there’s anything you want to know about me that the engagement negotiations didn’t cover?—”

The imperial heir waves his hand dismissively. “I can find you if I’m struck by any overpowering curiosity. I do look forward to seeing how a princess of Accasy conducts herself in the days to come.”

There’s no sign of doubt or concern about his choices. I hate to retreat, but I can tell from his tone and the straightening of his stance that he’s becoming impatient.

If I push too hard too quickly, I’ll destroy any hope I had of persuading him off his present course.

I drop into another curtsy. “I’ll do my best to impress you.”

“I expect you will.”

When I reach for the tray, he makes a shooing gesture. “One of the servants will collect it. No need for you to go trotting around like a part of the staff.”

My anger does come with a flare of humiliation this time. “It was my pleasure to serve you the best I know how.”

I spin on my heel and walk out of the room before anything more truthful spills from my mouth.

I make my way back to my bedroom with my expression mild, my hands loose at my sides, and frustration curdling in my stomach. How impressed would he have been if I’d upended the contents of that teapot over his head?

He’d deserve it for dragging me all the way across the continent just to turn our betrothal into a contest.

With every breath, I will down the simmer of ire. Patience is my greatest tool.

I never assumed winning over the heir to the empire would be easy, even if our marriage had proceeded as planned.

I come around the corner of the hall that leads to my room, and a looming figure pushes off the wall he was leaning against.

Prince Raul places his massive form directly in my path. With his hands loosely resting on his hips, his shoulders look even broader.

He glowers down at me, nearly a foot taller than my hardly deficient height, clearly intending to intimidate. His mouth forms a shape somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. “Where were you running off to this late in the evening, Princess? Already looking to skew the odds in your favor?”

His voice comes out dark as his cocoa-brown hair, but his gaze is pale as ice, with an equally biting chill. I don’t know what he’s after, but he obviously isn’t here to make friends.

I keep my tone even. “I’m sorry if I’ve inadvertently kept you waiting. Was there something you wanted?”

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