Page 26 of A Game of Veils

The prince of Lavira gives a slight tip of his head in acknowledgment and saunters through the crowd to join Neven. I hop down from the platform with a roll of my shoulders.

It’s a couple of hours before dinner yet, but performing both my music and my gift always leaves me hungry. My stomach gurgles. I spot a server weaving through the crowd and pluck a morsel off her tray.

Eating anything more solid than pudding is always a careful process. I break off small pieces and nudge them between my teeth, chewing carefully.

The tart flavor of the berry-laced pastry absorbs into my cheeks and the stump left where my tongue used to be. With a twitch of my jaw, I swallow.

Such a great sacrifice for such a great gift, and so little I can accomplish with it.

By the time I’ve polished off the pastry, my headache has retreated, my legs feel perfectly steady again, and I’m sick of the thoughtless blathering around me. It’s not as if I can contribute to the nobles’ conversations anyway.

Now that I’ve done my part, the emperor won’t mind if I duck out for a bit. I haven’t seen Bastien in a while. Maybe he’s gone to the library.

I weave through the bodies clad in billowy silk and escape into the relative silence of the hall.

It’s only a short trek along that hall and down another to our usual meeting spot. Easing past the heavy wooden door into the vast space with its labyrinth of bookshelves, I suck in a deep breath of the still, utterly silent air.

No rustle of turned pages or padding of careful footsteps reaches my ears. Bastien must be occupying himself elsewhere.

He could always turn up before long, and I can occupy myself perfectly fine in this room on my own. The stories in the volumes lining those shelves provide no shortage of inspiration.

I’ve just picked out a couple of promising titles and carried them over to one of the padded reading chairs when the door sighs open.

I lean forward in time to see Princess Aurelia slipping inside.

My body goes still, mostly tucked out of view behind one of the jutting bookcases. As she gazes around the cavernous room, I study the intruder in our midst.

She’s traded the more fitted, stiffer dresses she’s worn since her arrival for a flowing, airy gown in the Darium style. A paler blue than her sapphire-dark eyes, the thin silk courses around her elegant hourglass figure like water streaming over a fountain.

The billowy sleeves reach all the way to her hands. A lot of the ladies prefer to keep their arms covered to avoid the sharpest rays of the sun on their skin, but the princess’s tan suggests that’s not a significant concern of hers.

She might simply have wanted to cover the lingering scar of this morning’s arrow wound.

Raul was probably pleased with the result of his supposed clumsiness, but the memory of the flare of crimson blood against her sleeve makes my stomach knot.

I don’t like that she’s here either. I don’t like what her ambitions would mean for the four of us and the kingdoms we were torn from. But I can’t help connecting that burst of blood to the stuff splattered on the floor when the imperial guard slit one of the other ladies’ throats.

We’re better than the emperor and his heir. Better than all of the toadying nobles of his court.

I have to keep believing that, even if I’ve lost most of my faith in anything else that might comfort me.

As Aurelia wanders farther into the room, she nudges her hair back over her shoulder. The rich walnut-brown waves that frame her soft features remind me of the polished frame of my favorite lyre.

Her looks definitely won’t be what could turn Marclinus away. If I didn’t know what she stands for, I’d enjoy gazing at that pretty face.

But I do know, and any moment now she’ll glance my way and notice me. I’d rather she didn’t realize I’ve been sitting here gawking at her.

Setting my books on the chair arm, I get up and step forward as if I’m just emerging from one of the aisles between the shelves.

Aurelia startles at the rap of my shoes and then lets out a brief laugh. “Oh. I’m sorry—I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

She smiles at me, the friendly light in her deep blue eyes like the last rays of evening sun warming the sea outside the palace where I was born. As if we could be friends.

As if we aren’t both aware that everything she’s striving for threatens the home I’ll someday return to.

What has she sacrificed? Up until now, she’s lived her life freely while empire shoves the rest of us around. And she thinks she should be able to barge into our midst and rule over us?

She seemed to show a little kindness to one of the other ladies during the trial, but I saw no emotion whatsoever on her face when that lady was murdered. I can’t even say whether Aurelia was trying to help or simply to make Fausta look worse in comparison.

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