Page 95 of A Game of Veils

My stomach hollows out. If Prince Pavel was less than a year older than Bastien, he and the other older princes would have grown up together—would probably have relied on each other for several years the way the three of them do now.

I can’t even wrap my mind around how they must have felt to lose him. And to see another boy brought in as yet another hostage in their friend’s place…

They have even more reasons for their anger than I guessed. Gods, it must be torture for Neven to be living here with the man who executed his brother.

Rochelle’s right—it’s no surprise at all that the older princes would be committed to making sure he survives his time at the palace.

I’ve gained a small piece of the puzzle that I was missing, one that makes the picture so much more coherent.

I don’t dare mention any of those thoughts here in the hall where I might be overheard. To even imply there was anything tragic about the execution of a boy who attacked the emperor would be treason in itself.

Before I can decide how to continue the conversation, Rochelle returns my conspiratorial nudge of the elbow. “The way you said what you did about falling in love at seventeen… It almost sounded as if you were speaking from experience.”

She doesn’t ask the question outright, but it’s clearly implied. A pang resonates through my heart.

I don’t see any reason to lie, though there’s no need to spell out all the details. “I can’t say no man ever caught my eye before I arrived here. What’s growing up without at least one flirtation that was never to be? It’s well in the past.”

It’s more than three years now since the news came that I’d never see his face again. The grief has long since dulled, and I set aside the echo of loss that’s risen up.

It was my mistake, forgetting my place. My heart is full with the love of my family, my country, my people, and the peaceful godlen who watches over us all.

Rochelle looks as though she might pry for more of the story, but I’m saved by our arrival at the dining room. One of the gilded imperial chairs has been set in the middle of the head table tonight, and Rochelle directs me to the seat at its left.

“I’m not sure why they rearranged the chairs,” she says with a furrow of her brow.

I gather my fortitude. “I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. I’ll see you later tonight.”

As I settle myself in my seat, more of the court drifts into the room. I’m glad to see Fausta placed four chairs distant from me and Bianca at a completely different table, but my relief is short-lived.

Marclinus strolls over to the gilded chair that’s next to mine and sprawls into it. He grins at me with an air much more relaxed than this morning. “It seems you’ll be keeping me company through dinner, Princess Aurelia. We can get to know each other even better.”

Beneath the table, he trails his fingers over my knee through my skirt.

I restrain a flinch, forcing my mouth into an ingratiating smile. “How wonderful.”

My gaze trips down the table to where Emperor Tarquin has taken his own seat at his usual spot at the head of the table. The emperor’s piercing gaze evaluates me.

I’m still being tested after this morning’s lapse. Are they trying to provoke me into revealing that I don’t really want to be here?

It isn’t going to happen. I haven’t come this far, endured this much, to slip up now.

But I can’t forget that the greatest threat in this palace isn’t Fausta or Bianca or any of the nobles who’ve sneered or glared at me. It’s the emperor and his heir themselves.

Chapter Thirty-One

Lorenzo

Ididn’t think I’d ever have anything in common with Lady Fausta or Vicerine Bianca. But glimpsing their pinched faces across the ballroom, I think they’re just as displeased with Marclinus’s current choices as I am, if for very different reasons.

He has six potential brides still in his macabre competition. All six of them are here in the ballroom. But this is his fifth dance with Aurelia while he’s only drawn the others onto the dance floor once or twice.

It’s got to be because of this morning’s near-catastrophe. If we’d found Aurelia even minutes later, Fausta might have managed to completely sabotage her chances regardless of our efforts to see her healed.

Marclinus is suspicious of her disappearance, so he’s pulling her closer, watching her, judging her. I’ve noticed Emperor Tarquin eyeing her more often than the others too.

But her rivals won’t see that as a bad thing. They’re simply peeved that he’s giving her more attention than he’s offering them.

What if they try to trip her up in some other way to get back at her?

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