Page 96 of A Game of Veils

Glancing around the edges of the dance floor, I spot Bastien halfway across the vast room, standing next to Neven. The shards of light that glint down from the dimmed chandeliers dapple both their forms.

I wait until Bastien looks my way and twist my hand at my side, indicating danger and the two women now outright glaring Aurelia’s way. He’s closer to them—and better equipped to intervene if we need to.

Bastien gives a slight nod. The flick of his fingers informs me that he’s already monitoring them, as is Raul.

All right. The court’s reigning snakes won’t have a chance to strike tonight.

That doesn’t help Aurelia out of the predicament she’s already in, though.

At the dwindling of the melody, Marclinus releases Aurelia—but not without one last stroke of his hand down her side and an open leer at her retreating back. I tuck my hands into the pockets of my trousers so no one can see them clench into fists.

Every particle of my body is clamoring to stride over there and take her hand, to draw her into a dance I’d like to believe she’ll welcome more. I tense my legs against the impulse.

We have to be careful. To engage her so blatantly in front of the whole court… I don’t want to give Tarquin or Marclinus any reason to wonder just how interested I am in the princess of Accasy. Would I be able to hide my attraction when I’m holding her in my arms?

So I smother those feelings, as much as it feels like I’m suffocating with the effort. I watch as one of the marchions carefully invites her to a dance, darting wary glances toward the imperial heir in case Marclinus decides to intercept him.

It’s obviously caught everyone’s notice that he’s become particularly fixated on Aurelia tonight.

Bianca starts to move toward the uneasy couple—and appears to trip over her own feet. She sprawls on her hands and knees and whirls around, but no one’s near enough to have caught her ankle.

Raul stands nearby with his back to her and his hand loose at his side. A faint smile crosses my lips.

The darkened ballroom gives him plenty of space to work.

Another song ends, and the urge grips me again. But Marclinus goes straight back to Aurelia, snatching her hand and twirling her toward him.

She smiles at him and moves in time. She doesn’t recoil when his hand drifts down to squeeze her ass or when he tugs her so close her breasts graze his chest, even as my teeth set on edge.

But there’s no life in her expression. It’s as blank as a doll’s.

I’m not sure anyone who didn’t really know her would pick up on the signs, but I’ve seen Aurelia laughing and awed and angry. I know how her eyes can spark and her cheeks flush with passion.

I also know the slightly glassy look that’s come into her eyes now, as if she’s drifted off behind her compliant façade. She’s pulling away from him in the only way she can without him realizing.

How much more is he going to harass her this evening?

How much more can she take before something crumbles? She was lying in the woods with multiple broken bones at the start of this day.

Resolve rushes up through me so sharp and certain I can’t deny it too. Raul and Bastien will do their parts. I can look after her my own way.

The night is getting late. It won’t be strange for her to take her leave now. I simply need to give her permission.

I ease along the edge of the dancing crowd. When Marclinus finally releases Aurelia again, I’m right within her line of sight as she turns around.

With a surreptitious gesture by my hip, I motion her toward the door, hoping she gets my intended meaning: You should leave, now.

The smallest twitch of her jaw is my only indication that she caught my message. She drifts toward one of the tables holding platters of appetizers and then meanders through the doorway as if on a whim, not with any particular purpose.

I wait through several thuds of my heart before ambling toward the room’s other entrance, aiming for the same nonchalant air.

When I reach the hall, Aurelia has already vanished from sight, but I can guess that she’s headed toward her chambers. I pick up my pace and catch sight of her around the bend.

At the thump of my footsteps, she glances back. A crease has formed in her brow.

I could wave her on toward her room and leave her be—but she must wonder why I signaled her in the first place. I don’t want to leave her worried.

This isn’t a good place to talk, and joining her in her bedroom probably isn’t wise. I pause and flick my hand in the direction of the library alongside the reading gesture I’ve shown her before.

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