Page 18 of A Game of Veils

If the fact that I’ve ignored his questions bothers him, he doesn’t show it. He lets his lips curve into a smile as cool as his stare with a flash of white teeth against his tawny skin.

My heart skips a beat, and not only because of his imposing stance. It’s not hard to see why plenty of the court women find him appealing—presuming he normally approaches them with an attitude less like he’s about to bite their heads off.

“I simply thought you should know that you don’t stand a chance,” he says. “Soft little lamb of Elox coming down from the north without a day of struggle behind her. No one’s going to pamper you here. The nobles will eat you alive while you dance to Tarquin’s tune to entertain them.”

Even as I keep my chin high, my skin turns cold. He sounds as if he’s speaking from experience.

What does he know about the struggles I’ve faced or haven’t?

I step to the side, intending to dodge him. “Thank you ever so much for the warning.”

He matches my stride, cutting off my escape with his muscular body. “You can’t ignore the shit you’ve thrown yourself into that easily. We’re all wolves here. If they don’t tear you apart quickly enough, we’ll give you a good shove in the direction you deserve.”

The impression I got in the audience room that he—and the other princes—were specifically furious with me strikes me again with a jitter of my nerves. I don’t understand it.

Before I can settle on a response, another voice, equally low but flatter, speaks up from beyond Prince Raul’s shoulder. “Speak for yourself, Raul. We’re going to enjoy the show while it lasts.”

Prince Bastien comes up beside his larger foster brother, the edges of his verging-on-gaunt face hardened by tension. His green eyes are far darker than Raul’s but even more penetrating for it. He’s followed by Prince Lorenzo, whose deep brown features are set at a hostile smolder beneath his close-cropped black hair.

Gods above, they do make a striking trio, even more so up close. It’s a wonder the ladies aren’t falling over the lot of them.

Bastien cocks his head to one side, his shaggy auburn hair shadowing his gaze. “Not that I think she’ll last very long either,” he goes on. “She clearly has no idea what she’s actually walked into.”

They’ve formed a whole intimidation squad now. What game are they playing?

My pulse thuds faster, but I refuse to let these men see they’ve gained any ground. Predators pounce harder when they sense a weakness.

I lift my eyebrows slightly. “Are you planning on enlightening me?”

Bastien clicks his tongue. “Do you really believe you have a chance here? If the emperor actually wanted you to marry into the family, he’d hardly have set up an extended, bloody charade to whittle away your chances. It’s an excuse to lead you to the slaughter while blaming you for your failure.”

Could he be right? I assumed Emperor Tarquin was aiming to teach the nobles a lesson—but he could very well have decided he’d rather have a known quantity as a daughter-in-law after all.

If I die here, that’s one less bargaining chip my parents have to secure other allegiances.

Prince Lorenzo turns his hand and bends his long fingers in a gesture so furtive I almost miss it, and Raul snorts as if in response.

Interesting. The tongue-less prince has found ways of conveying his thoughts without his voice.

I wonder if even the emperor could follow that silent communication. How useful it would be for the four unwilling fosters to have a private means of chatter right under his nose.

Where is the youngest of them, Prince Neven, anyway? This afternoon, he looked just as irate as the rest of them, if not more. He didn’t feel like joining their un-welcoming party?

When I glance down the hall, Raul scoffs. “There’s no way out. You’re stuck here now.”

I fold my arms over my chest, evaluating the three princes in front of me. The animosity wafting off them still doesn’t make sense to me, but I can’t help thinking of all the things they must have seen and heard in their years at the palace while they’ve been chained at Emperor Tarquin’s heels.

Things it might be useful for a newcomer to be aware of, if they were at all inclined to share.

They haven’t lost their fire in all that time. The emperor hasn’t beaten the mettle out of them. That says something in their favor.

Even though I’ve become the current target of their hostility, it stirs the flames I’ve been keeping a damper on deep inside me.

“Like you’ve been stuck here too,” I say quietly. “I suppose that means we’re in the same position now, doesn’t it?”

Lorenzo’s hand jerks in an obvious motion of defiance at the same moment as Raul snarls, “We’re nothing like you.”

Bastian’s voice stiffens. “At least we know where we actually stand. You’ve got a long tumble ahead of you from your cushioned life.”

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