Page 86 of A Game of Veils

It’s not just Raul and Bastien but Lorenzo as well. They jerk to a halt. Lorenzo’s dark eyes widen while Bastien’s jaw goes slack.

Raul speaks first, with a snarl resonating through his words. “That treacherous bitch.”

In my dazed state, I almost think he’s talking about me. Then he scrambles down into the depression next to me, his hand hovering over my shoulder while panic flashes across his face. “What did she do to you?”

I swallow against the pain in my throat and manage a few brief croaks. “Broken leg. Foot. Ribs.”

Bastien’s mouth has twisted into a grimace of fury. “And hit her hard in the throat, from the sound of it. Fucking harridans. It was Fausta and her pack of vipers, wasn’t it?”

I manage a nod, and he sucks a hiss of a breath through clenched teeth. “The way they were smirking at breakfast when Marclinus commented about you not showing up—Fausta even made a comment about how you’d probably run off. Thank the gods Lorenzo remembered he’d seen them wandering around out here last night. Hold on, let me…”

He eases down the side of the hollow more cautiously than Raul did, but his expression is no less fraught. His dark green gaze skims my jumble of limbs, tracking the damage.

I don’t really understand why they’re so concerned about my well-being all of a sudden. Considering how we made our acquaintance and the performance I gave last night, I’d be less surprised if they’d come to celebrate my downfall.

Lorenzo makes an urgent sound, crouching at the edge of the hollow. I can’t follow his hasty gesture, but Bastien must understand.

“I don’t know if it’s safe to move her,” he says, his own voice strained. “If we don’t stabilize her properly, we could make things worse.”

He peers down at me, his grimace deepening. “I don’t suppose you know any brews for healing broken bones, Medic Princess?”

Even with all the pain I’m in, I can’t restrain a snort. “It’ll take… a real medic.”

He curses under his breath and looks over at Raul. Bastien’s face has tensed with frustration, which makes even less sense to me when Raul bares his teeth in silent comprehension. “That fucking prick Tarquin.”

Now I’m totally lost. What has the emperor got to do with any of this? If he decided he no longer approved of me, he’d have his guards slit my throat, not send the other ladies to discard me in the woods.

Bastien grazes his fingers over my hair in an unexpectedly gentle gesture. Maybe trying to soften the blow of what he says next. “Early in the trials, Emperor Tarquin gave orders to the imperial medics that they’re not to interfere if any of the potential brides manage to sabotage each other without getting caught in the act. That they should let nature ‘run its course’ and the strong prevail.”

The disgust in his voice makes it clear exactly what he thinks of that attitude.

I know without even prodding my gift that there’s no concoction in the world that can meld together a body broken like mine is. I could dampen the pain, yes, but I’d still be unable to walk, incapable of even sitting up without help.

Raul growls. “I’ll drag that cunt out here by her fucking throat and make her account for what she’s done. Cutting down the one woman in this mess who has anything like a heart…”

I look up in time to see Bastien glaring at him. “Assaulting Fausta is only going to get you thrown in a jail cell—or in your own grave. Being an idiot won’t help Aurelia.”

Raul glowers back at him, every muscle in his massive body flexing with his seething energy. “She’s going to pay one way or another.”

Lorenzo reaches out to tap Bastien’s shoulder for his attention. Whatever he communicates, the other prince’s expression turns pensive. “Yes, even in this situation, that might work. With the right leverage…”

He turns back to Raul. “You still haven’t told anyone the thing about Flacos, have you? We didn’t think it was worth humbling him.”

Raul’s pale eyes light up so avidly it would probably terrify me if I didn’t know his rage is on my behalf. “I still have that secret in my back pocket. Has he got a gift that’ll work for knitting bone?”

“I don’t know, but even if he doesn’t, it might be enough to persuade him to bring one of his colleagues on board to help.”

“Maybe… Let’s see if we can put a little fear into him and get the job done.” Raul’s gaze drops to me again. His hand, still extended tentatively over my shoulder without quite touching it, clenches into a fist. “And quickly.”

I have no idea what they’re talking about—or whether I’d agree to this plan. “What are you going to do?” I rasp.

A savage smile curves Raul’s lips. “My gift told me a little something about one of the medics on staff that he wouldn’t want anyone else knowing. We’ll get you healed, Princess—he can be paid with my continued silence.”

He sounds utterly certain, but as he and Bastien get to their feet, my stomach knots. “Wait.”

What if he’s overestimated the sway he’ll have over this man? What if his ploy only exposes Fausta’s victory over me so that it can no longer be concealed?

The princes stare at me.

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