Page 79 of A Game of Veils

We’re not even allowed napkins on our laps, not that he can see them through the table. We’re instructed to keep those next to our plates.

When we’ve finished eating, the emperor directs us all out into the gardens. The bright sun prickles over my skin, highlighting every nook and cranny on our bodies in contrast.

I’ve never wished more for an overcast day.

As we walk over to the lawn for whatever games Marclinus has gotten it into his head to play, the wind picks up. It ruffles through our hair and nips at places wind is never meant to reach.

Rochelle shivers but keeps walking. “We just have to make it through dinner,” I remind her under my breath.

Another hot gust sweeps over us—and one of the other nude ladies walking nearby wraps her arm around her chest against it.

It’s obviously an instinctive gesture. She’s shielding herself from the wind, not anyone’s gaze.

But Marclinus’s jaunty voice carries from a few steps behind us. “Lady Jovitte, you wound me by hiding from my view. So I’m afraid you must be wounded in turn.”

Jovitte yanks her arm down, her face blanching. “I didn’t mean?—”

My own lips have parted to protest on her behalf, but it’s already too late. One of the ever-present guards lurking on the fringes of our gathering leaps forward with his sword drawn.

The blade slices Jovitte’s throat. Her body slumps onto the grass, blood dabbling the flesh the imperial heir was so determined to leave on display.

Rochelle sucks a tiny gasp through her teeth. I force myself to drag my attention away and nudge her to keep walking.

Gods save me, what else can we do?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Aurelia

It’s hard to imagine what my parents or my sister would say if they found out I spent my eighth day in my betrothed’s presence playing croquet on the lawn while utterly naked before him and his entire court.

I’d like to think they’d take one look at the scene and whisk me away, out of Dariu and Marclinus’s sights forever. I know Father’s voice would reverberate with rage, that Mother would look sick with horror, that Soreena would happily throw herself between me and all those prying eyes.

But in the end, they’d leave me here, wouldn’t they? They’d mourn the better husband they hoped I’d have, they’d weep and rant to each other in the privacy of the family castle, but they wouldn’t risk the destruction of our entire line by openly defying Emperor Tarquin.

I’m a piece in the game, and that’s all I’ve ever been meant to be. It’s just not quite the game any of us were expecting.

As we sprawl on picnic blankets sipping wine and then stroll amongst the garden beds with Marclinus roving between “his” ladies like a bee from flower to flower, I hold on to one kernel of comfort. The guards have removed Jovitte’s corpse and splashed water to rinse away the blood, but this trial has already claimed a life.

If the rest of us suppress our modesty for the rest of the day and let the imperial heir ogle us at his leisure, then we’ll all survive. The last couple of trials, he’s only culled those who made overt mistakes from the competition.

Rochelle and I can look forward to discovering what fresh torments he’ll have in store for us tomorrow.

That doesn’t mean today’s torments are over. When we head into the dining room to await dinner, Marclinus sprawls in his gilded chair and motions me over. “I’d like to spend a little more time up close with each of my ladies.”

As I approach, tamping down my trepidation, he grasps my hand with a tug. He expects me to cuddle up on his lap like I’ve watched Bianca and a few of the other court ladies do in the past.

My stomach churns, but I paste on a smile and sink onto his outstretched legs.

Elox, let me be as serene and steady as stone.

Marclinus teases one hand into my hair while the other traces across my pelvis from one hip to the other, just inches above my sex. If I were any less deep in my distant reverie, the muscles would have twitched as if trying to repel him.

Is this how it’ll always be? Will he see his wife as nothing but a toy?

His attitude could change with marriage. With familiarity and the chance for me to speak a little more freely once my position is somewhat secure.

But as he flicks his thumb over the peak of my breast with a chuckle of amusement, the flame of hope I’ve kept stoking nearly gutters out.

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