Page 107 of A Pact of Blood

The corner of my mouth twitches upward at her ironic phrasing. “For the most part. With fewer people, and all of them sharing similar concerns, there isn’t often much to fight about.”

Accasians have a long history of comradery and generosity. Those values helped the people of times long past survive our precarious terrain and harsh winters in our isolation from the rest of the continent.

In more recent centuries, we’ve also stuck together and celebrated the ties between us because no fellow citizen could pose as much of a threat as the conquerors who barge into our streets.

“I do appreciate the company I have here,” I add, to be polite.

Bianca hums to herself. “We can create quite a bit of merriment just within our court. It’s been a long time since I really went out among the common folk. I used to as a child, when I was at my family’s estate…”

She hesitates as if she’s afraid she’s said too much, but the hint of uncertainty softens me. I touch her elbow to nudgeher toward the ring of guards. “We can at least get a better look at what we’re currently missing.”

A conspiratorial smile curves the vicerine’s lips. We stroll together through the gathering of nobles.

Amid the swarm, my gaze catches on Raul’s cocoa-brown hair in its usual short ponytail and then Lorenzo’s, darker and closer cropped, nearer by. The prince of Rione dips his head respectfully, his face impassive but a gleam I know is affection in his rich brown eyes.

I nod briefly in return and force my attention to slide on over him as if he’s of no consequence to me.

As we amble on, Bianca sidles even closer to me. She drops her voice to the barest whisper. “There isn’t something going on between you and the princely musician, is there?”

A chill sweeps through my veins. I glance toward her, fighting to keep my expression mild. “Pardon me?”

Somehow my reaction seems to encourage her. The vicerine’s smile widens. “Oh, why shouldn’t you accept other attentions if you find them pleasing enough? He’ll be a major figure in his own country someday, after all. You’re smart enough to take the proper precautions.”

I manage not to sputter my answer, but it’s a near thing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bianca arches her eyebrows, apparently not to be dissuaded. Perhaps she’s spent so much energy conducting her own intimate connections that she can pick up on the most subtle clues—or perhaps she simply wants it to be true so she holds one of my secrets as I do hers.

“You needn’t worry,” she murmurs. “You’ve been more than tolerant of my own trysts. If you should need any help arranging a private interlude or?—”

Gods, no. I come to a halt and frown at her with all the imperial foreboding I can summon. “I truly don’t know what you mean, so I need no help. It certainly wouldn’t to dotarnish my or the prince of Rione’s reputations with such speculations.”

Bianca pauses, studying me. My heart thumps on, spreading the chill deeper into my gut.

Her smile turns smaller but softer. “My apologies, Your Imperial Highness. I made assumptions and overstepped. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

I can’t tell whether she actually believes me or she’s just trying to keep my good will. But what else can I do except hope she won’t mention her impressions to anyone else?

I smile back benevolently and force my gritted teeth to open. “I appreciate your apology. Let us move on to more pleasant subjects.”

Despite that suggestion, we lapse into silence as we stroll on. My gaze travels over to where Marclinus is standing with High Commander Axius, Counsel Etta, and a few of the marchions.

They look more like they’re holding a business meeting than celebrating. Has there been additional news from Lavira?

Is that why Neven is hanging around on the outskirts of their group like a puppy watching for scraps dropped from a table? My husband had better not be drawing the young prince into some larger scheme, no matter how much new eagerness he’s shown for battle.

I don’t see any sign of anyone talking directly to the prince of Goric, so I return my focus to the goal I claimed to be pursuing. Bianca and I glide right along the line of guards, watching the city folk on the other side dance and drink.

There’s some small hope their spectacle of revelry will distract the vicerine from her imaginings.

Several of the nearby citizens turn our way at the sight of me. Murmurs drift through the chatter of the crowd.

“The empress!”

“Isn’t she pretty?”

“She went up just like he did.”

“That’s the kind of partner he needs.”

---