Page 47 of A Game of Veils

The skirt, flowing in the typical Darium style, should reveal nothing. As long as the imperial heir doesn’t require any table dancing from us, my indecency will remain a secret.

I wish I could fully trust that table dancing is, well, off the table. It’s difficult to imagine what Marclinus might ask of us next.

The next trial can’t be too far off. He gave us all of yesterday as a reprieve, though it was hardly relaxing when we spent every minute around him braced for the next announcement.

To mollify my maid, I haven’t done more than comb my fingers through my hair. She picks up the brush and runs it over the dark brown waves until they shine like polished bronze.

“There’s been a lot of chatter around the dining room,” she mentions in a hushed voice. “I heard Their Imperial Eminences have already taken their seats.”

My stomach knots. “I suppose I should head over early and see what the fuss is about, then.”

It’s more distracting than I expected to navigate the world without a single scrap of cloth covering my sex. As I walk, the fabric of my skirt ripples against my mound and the air tickles over my folds in an unnervingly provocative way.

I have to think Prince Raul was perfectly aware of the effect his bargain would have on me. Is the idea simply to put me in a more impious mood?

That can’t be why Prince Bastien agreed. He must be hoping the embarrassment of my secret immodesty will affect my performance in the next trial.

Or maybe he simply wants me to be miserable. It’s certainly seemed that way most of the times I’ve spoken to him.

As I walk down the hall toward the dining room, my thumb rises instinctively to rub the now vacant base of my forefinger. Anxiety quivers through my chest.

I’ll have my ring back by tomorrow. Bastien swore to his godlen. I simply have to endure a single day of new discomforts.

I turn onto the main hallway that holds the dining room and spot Fausta and Bianca huddled together at the far end. It looks as if Fausta has just pushed a morsel of something into her mouth, chewing hastily while Bianca hands her a goblet.

There’s something oddly furtive about the exchange. Fausta takes a few swift gulps from the goblet and presses it back into Bianca’s hands.

An uneasy chill wraps around my gut. What are they up to now?

What do they know that I don’t?

As Bianca saunters away with the goblet, Fausta swipes her hand past her mouth and turns to notice me. With her usual sharp smile, she sashays into the dining room ahead of me.

I follow, swallowing down my trepidation.

The room beyond the doorway looks the same as last night, back to its standard layout with the table of honor at one end of the room and the others in neat rows alongside it. Emperor Tarquin and his son have indeed already taken their seats, the servants acting as their tasters hovering behind them.

Marclinus has procured himself a full goblet of something or other. The table itself is empty other than a few centerpieces, porcelain vases with sprigs of vibrant flowers. He tips his glass languidly to his mouth, watching us over the top of it.

A couple of my fellow competitors have arrived ahead of Fausta and me. As servants direct us to our seats, more enter behind us.

It appears the ten of us remaining are all being arranged on the far side of the table today, where we have a view over the entire dining room. Rochelle ends up at the chair two down from mine and acknowledges me with a nervous smile.

Bianca has opted not to join us as she often does. I spot her with her husband at one of the smaller tables. Maybe she feels she needs to give the viceroy a little attention here and there to ensure some kind of harmony in their home.

All four of the princes take seats at the other side of our table—first Lorenzo, catching my gaze and then looking away. Next Bastien and Neven together, in murmured conversation my tormentor doesn’t bother to glance up from.

And finally Raul, ambling over to the chair directly across from me, his cocky grin widening with every step.

Wonderful.

As he drops into his seat, he tips his head to me in acknowledgment. “Good to see you looking so unhampered today, Your Highness.”

Oh, he can tell I’ve followed through on my end of the deal, all right.

I smile back at him. “It’s amazing what a good, uninterrupted night of sleep can do for you.”

Not that I would know about that today.

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