Page 94 of A Game of Veils

With the prince who’s always seemed the most practical of the bunch, I expect I’m best off taking a straightforward approach. “Lady Fausta has had an edge in the trials because Vicerine Bianca ferrets out information in advance. You spend a lot of time around Emperor Tarquin and Marclinus. If you pay extra attention to any comments they make or actions you observe that might relate to their plans, and let me know… It could even the playing field.”

I wouldn’t have dared to make such a request before this morning’s rescue. Even now, my breath catches as I wait for his answer.

Whatever guilt he felt over nearly killing me, saving my life today has balanced the scales. He might laugh in my face at the idea of being my spy, or accuse me of attempting treason, or?—

Bastien gives a short nod. “I can do that. Keep my eyes and ears open. They haven’t discussed the specifics of the upcoming trials in front of me before, but I might pick up on something that’d be of use.”

“Thank you.” Relief sweeps through me, even though his agreement is hardly a guarantee of results. Simply knowing I have that kind of support within the palace eases the uncertainties that gnaw at me.

I know Rochelle will help me any way she can too, but in her new position she won’t have many excuses to be around the emperor. I don’t want to encourage her to stick her neck out more than is safe and risk Marclinus changing his mind about staying her execution.

At the edge of my vision, Bastien grimaces. “It’s the least I can do.”

While we’ve carried out our surreptitious conversation, my gaze has continued traveling around the room. It snags on a head of white-blond hair. Neven is standing near a few of the court musicians in the corner of the room. They’d just wrapped up playing when I arrived, and he looks as if he’s asking the trim fellow who plays the harp about his instrument.

Maybe there’s something more immediate I could seek Bastien’s help with.

“I don’t suppose any of you have bothered to let Prince Neven know that you’ve decided I’m not a villain after all,” I say, keeping my tone light. “He still seemed rather peeved with me when he spoke to me this afternoon.”

Bastien mutters a curse under his breath. “I’ll talk to him tonight. With everything else that’s happened, I didn’t even think of it. You don’t need to worry about it—he’ll listen to us.”

It’s hard to see the puppy-dog-ish teenager as a huge threat, but I’d rather not take my chances there either. “Thank you for that too.”

Neven definitely doesn’t look hostile now. He gestures toward the harp and gazes avidly at the musician while the other man answers. When the harpist touches the prince’s arm to emphasize some point, a blush spreads across Neven’s cheeks.

My lips twitch with amusement. “It can wait a little while, of course. I won’t ask you to interrupt his flirting.”

“What?” Bastien jerks around to follow my gaze. “Gods help me, if that prick is encouraging him…”

I shoot him a sideways glance. “Why shouldn’t he? Neven obviously likes him. If Raul’s reputation is anything to go by, there aren’t any rules against fostered princes pursuing whatever dalliances they want.”

Bastien frowns. “He’s only seventeen—practically still a kid. He has no idea what he actually wants yet. I don’t think a court musician is the best person to figure it out with. They get around nearly as much as Raul does.”

Somehow I don’t imagine any of the older princes considered themselves “kids” at seventeen—or kept themselves chaste that long. But I suspect Bastien wouldn’t appreciate me pointing that fact out.

“He won’t figure out what he actually wants unless he gives a few things a shot.” A pang of loss ripples through me, softening my voice. “And seventeen’s plenty old enough to fall in love.”

Bastien looks at me for the first time in our conversation, but at the same moment, there’s a tap on my shoulder. Rochelle has slipped through the doorway and come up at my other side.

She offers a quick but warm smile. “We’re supposed to escort our ladies to their seats for dinner.”

My stomach gurgles in answer, reminding me that I missed breakfast and didn’t have much appetite at lunch. I give Bastien a quick nod in farewell and turn to follow Rochelle. “Lead the way.”

She’s obviously doing her best to show total commitment to her new role. Only a few other maids and pages have arrived to start ushering the court to the dining room. I drift to the side of the hall so we can talk quietly without being overheard.

Rochelle speaks before I can, with a swift glance over her shoulder toward the room we left. “You were talking with Prince Bastien about Prince Neven?”

I laugh. “Briefly. He seemed rather concerned about his foster brother having any romantic pursuits.”

Rochelle hums. “The other princes have always kept a close eye on Neven, from what I’ve seen. I suppose it makes sense they’re so protective, given… everything.”

I hadn’t thought about the fact that Rochelle’s been visiting court since the princes were much younger. Her comment rouses my interest. “What’s ‘everything’? I assumed it was only because he’s a fair bit younger than the rest of them.”

“Well, there is that, but also—have you not heard? I suppose no one really talks about it now since it’s been ten years.”

I tap my elbow against hers. “I haven’t heard anything, so you’d better tell me before I expire of curiosity.”

Rochelle’s gaze darts around the hall. Her voice dips lower. “Neven wasn’t the first prince Emperor Tarquin fostered from Goric. He’s thirdborn. He had an older brother, Pavel, who was fostered before him… The first one who came to the palace, almost a year before Bastien. I wasn’t here when it happened, but ten years ago, apparently he went mad and tried to murder the emperor. Of course he was executed. Neven was brought in to take his place.”

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