Page 78 of A Game of Veils

The gowns she’s always chosen have played down her broad shoulders and added more curve to her smaller chest and square hips. Without the benefit of their enhancing effects, her sturdy physique looks outright gawky.

Naturally, Fausta rubs in the fact by shooting a pointed look Rochelle’s way and pretending to stifle a giggle.

Other than the scars on my arms, which are hardly a selling point, I don’t think there’s anything all that remarkable about my own body. My regular walks have kept my limbs toned but hardly as dainty as Fausta’s. I have two breasts in the right place and reasonably sized, which my childhood maid once said is all a man cares about. Who can fathom an emperor-to-be’s tastes, though?

My thumb lingers against the side of my gold-and-sapphire ring. Are we expected to remove all jewelry too?

Before I can fret over losing that bit of comfort, one of the other ladies asks for me. She holds up her wrist, where a thin gold chain dotted with tiny pearls glitters. “Should I take off my bracelet as well?”

Marclinus appears to consider. “Ah, leave your minor adornments on. They cover nothing and enhance the rest of the landscape.”

I tuck my ringed hand close to my side. The warm air moving over my bare skin feels unsettling with so many gazes traveling with it. Keeping my breaths even, I hold tight to my inner calm.

For the first time, I’m discovering which of the lesser gods each of my fellow ladies dedicated themselves to. Fausta’s sternum is branded with Inganne’s sigil, though I’ve never seen her show any artistic interest. Maybe she considers her cruel antics a kind of play and assumes the childlike godlen would approve?

Not at all to my surprise, Rochelle is a dedicat of Prospira, the godlen of agriculture and abundance. That fits her generous attitude.

Do any of the others have gifts like mine? I resist the impulse to trace my fingers over the small scar near my stomach where my spleen was removed nine years ago.

I don’t see any missing digits or skin on the women around me, but nobles are often cautious in what they sacrifice. Especially ladies hoping to catch the eyes of discerning bachelors. Teeth can be replaced with ceramic counterparts that pass for the real thing. Bits of flesh can be offered from spots normally hidden by hair or the shape of one’s body. A lesser internal sacrifice might not leave a scar years later.

Of course, smaller sacrifices mean smaller magic. I haven’t seen any sign that my competitors are wielding gifts I need to worry about.

I hate to think what Fausta might have asked for if she’d known she’d one day find herself in a fight to the death for the imperial heir’s hand.

Now that all eight of us are nude, Marclinus meanders past us again, testing how we respond to his touch. When he trails his fingers up Fausta’s arm, she tilts her head coyly. Rochelle visibly tenses at his stroke of her belly but doesn’t pull away.

When he reaches me, I tap into my inner reserves of serenity even more deeply. Every particle of my body wants to cringe at his caress of my cheek and neck, but I hold still with a mild smile.

If I can detach from a raging fever, I can endure this indignity.

“I’d say your markings make you all the more exotic, Princess of Accasy,” he says in a teasing tone. “They certainly don’t detract from your fine figure. Curves in all the right places.”

His fingers skim down the side of my breast, the slight concave of my waist, the slope of my hip.

I’m not here. It might as well be a sculpture he’s touching, not any part of me.

Bianca’s mocking voice breaks through my silent meditation. “Not all that much of them, though. Hardly impressive to simply fill a man’s hand when you could be spilling over in bounty.”

My gaze darts to her voluptuous form, but Marclinus simply chuckles. “Now, now, Vicerine. Jealousy doesn’t become any lady.”

Bianca’s eyes flash with anger, but she snaps her mouth shut. She reserves her glare for me rather than the man who chided her, the moment he turns his back.

The imperial heir compliments Lady Leonette’s athletic yet curvy figure, bringing a reserved smile to her lips. Then he returns his attention to our larger audience in their scandalized but avid hush. “We’ll continue with a typical day. Let us revel in our entertainments—and the beauty of my ladies! How about a little music… Where’s that foster ‘brother’ of mine?”

It takes me even more effort not to stiffen at the sight of Lorenzo walking past. He keeps his gaze studiously averted from our nakedness, but of course he’ll have seen something.

The other princes are somewhere in the room too, taking the situation in. Taking me in.

Raul has talked about getting me naked. There’ve been times when the idea sounded a little bit tempting.

I’d never have wanted him to get his first glimpse like this.

As Lorenzo takes his vielle and launches into a sprightly tune, Marclinus motions us to the room’s various activities. I stick close to Rochelle for moral support—mine as much as hers—and end up spending the better part of an hour playing cards with several other members of the court.

Marclinus calls me over to have a go at a game of darts. I manage not to cringe at the raking of his gaze over my body as each throw makes my breasts sway.

At lunch, we find ourselves arrayed all on one side of the head table again, with Marclinus sitting directly across from us. His leering eyes roam over all of us whenever he’s not attending to his meal.

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