Page 7 of A Game of Veils

“Your Imperial Highness, you are the standard all men should aspire to meet. You stand up valiantly to threats abroad and keep us ever entertained while you’re in court. No one could look upon you without appreciating the perfection of every aspect of your being.”

Her honeyed but confident voice cuts through my bewildered daze. She’s been clever, jumping in to make her case first. Praise won’t sound as sincere if it’s simply repeating what others have said.

She’s both demonstrated her eagerness and ensured she’s the act the rest of us have to follow.

Lady Fausta goes on in the same fawning tone. “You always have the right answer at the ready as well as a quip to delight us. Every party is brightened tenfold by your presence; every decision you make guides our empire toward further grandeur. I have lived in awe of you since the moment I met you.”

As she rises to her feet, applause breaks out from the rest of the court. Marclinus gives a little bow as if to welcome her assessment, followed by a suggestive wink. A glint of triumph lights in Fausta’s eyes.

She’s the act we have to follow—and the more we follow, the more trite our veneration will appear.

If I don’t want to see the brighter future I meant to bring my country crumble to dust, I need to stake my own claim, now.

Lady Fausta steps back from the dais. I propel myself forward before any of the other women can take her spot.

My mind is spinning. I rummage through the little I know about the imperial heir—he hasn’t accomplished much while his father still rules, but he was apparently instrumental in quashing a minor rebellion in Rione—and what I’ve observed in the short time since my arrival.

I don’t just need to speak quickly; I need to speak well.

And I need to lie through my teeth.

I bend down in front of Marclinus’s throne as Fausta did. He stretches out his legs as if preparing to bask in my adoration.

Gods smite me, how I’m going to have to lie.

Let’s start with the biggest one, then.

I pitch my voice to carry but keep my tone soft, as if I’m as awed as Lady Fausta claimed to be. “Your Imperial Highness, I’ve only just met you, but I’m already struck by your incredible wisdom. I could never ask you to bind yourself to me before you’ve confirmed that I’m your ideal match. I came to find the best of husbands, and such an astute man would only want the best of wives.”

I’m assuring him that there are no ruffled feathers, making myself look generous and understanding in a way none of the other ladies can. Where can I go from there?

“I heard tales of your military successes all the way in Accasy and can see you’re every bit the champion I hoped to marry. You have a commanding air that will hold the whole empire in your sway. I was struck by it and your obvious charm from the moment I entered this room. Your generosity toward your court shows you have a commendable heart as well.”

We won’t speak about his lack of generosity toward his supposed betrothed.

I grope for an ideal ending note and bow a little lower as I choose my phrasing. “Looking at the women I stand among, it’s clear you’re also a discerning judge of character and beauty. Any of us would be lucky to win your hand. I’ll strive with every fiber of my being to show that I’m worthy of your greatness.”

When I lift my head, the smattering of applause isn’t quite as enthusiastic as it was for Fausta. I hope that’s only because the nobles are balancing their approval of my compliments with loyalty to the ladies of their court.

The imperial heir looks gratified enough, his grin stretching broader as he watches me get to my feet. A small scar cuts through his full upper lip on the lefthand side—the only imperfection on his stunning face. “Well spoken, princess of the wild north. I look forward to your striving.”

He makes the statement sound like an invitation into his bed. I don’t know how to answer it other than with a modest smile and another dip of a curtsy.

With my heart still racing, I pull back in the wake of another lady who’s already rushing over. As I place myself off to the side of the cluster of court noblewomen, narrowed eyes and sharp frowns flick in my direction.

I don’t think I’ve earned any good will among my companions with my performance.

Better that they hate me than that I fail in the purpose that brought me here.

I cling to that knowledge, tensing my body against a tremor that ripples down my spine. Now that I’ve said my piece and thrown my hat into the ring, every nerve has gone wobbly with the enormity of what’s happened.

Twelve other ladies. Twelve rivals who know the imperial heir far better than I do, who are familiar with his whims in order to cater to them, who might have caught his eye long before I arrived.

Why would Emperor Tarquin pit me against them? Why summon me at all if he decided a local match would suit his and his son’s political agenda better?

The way the emperor spoke about his court’s concerns… I don’t think he appreciated their criticism. Maybe this is all a sham of sorts—put the nobles in their places by dragging their daughters into a public spectacle and then declaring me the winner all the same.

He doesn’t care if I’m humiliated along the way. That shouldn’t surprise me at all.

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