Page 11 of A Pact of Blood

I rinse the towel for caution’s sake, re-don my robe, and wriggle under the covers on the opposite side of the bed. If the drug works as my tests suggested it should, he’ll be out for a couple of hours. I might as well get my rest while I can.

I snuff out the lantern on the bedside table and burrow my head in my pillow as far as I can in an attempt to mute Marclinus’s snores. When I close my eyes, a sudden hot prickle forms behind them. The sensation clogs my throat as well.

It’s over now—my wedding night. And it was as far from the sort any woman might dream about as I can imagine.

I knew better than to expect that this moment would be full of love and mutual passion. I never would have asked for that much. But I did sometimes allow myself to picture that it’d be with a man I could grow to appreciate.

I clench my hands against the swell of grief. As Marclinus said of his own situation, it is what it is.

And because of it, I’m in a position to do something incredible.

At least my strategy succeeded. My monster of a husbandcan believe he’s rutting me every night without subjecting me to more than a little groping.

I do still have a little control over my life.

In the wake of the surge of emotion, exhaustion rolls in. My own eyelids drift down. My breaths even out.

I’m somewhere in the space between waking and sleep when a soft hiss carries from the wall.

Chapter Five

Raul

The moment we step into the library, I unfurl my gift. My awareness ripples through every shadow that drapes across the bookcases and beneath the tables, confirming that no one else has ventured out this way at this hour of the evening.

Bastien doesn’t like being bossed around, since he figures he’s the only one of us wise enough to give orders. He keeps scowling the whole way to the small repair room where we can carry out a discreet conversation, but he is at least smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

The second the door clicks shut behind us and Lorenzo has tapped on the magical lantern, my older foster brother whirls on me. His voice is flat but biting. “Why did you need to drag us all the way down here? You know we’re trying to avoid drawing suspicion.”

I glower right back at him, wrinkling my nose at thelingering smell of binding glue. “We decided to stay apart because we didn’t know what Aurelia was going to do. It’s obvious she isn’t spilling our secrets. She’s on our side.”

Bastien lets out an incredulous guffaw at the same time as Lorenzo’s face twitches. Neven glances between the three of us, looking more bewildered than anything.

“She could have beenbyour side.” Bastien jabs his finger vaguely toward the ballroom. “She decided she’d rather marry that psychopathic prick and sit in the lap of luxurious corruption.”

Lorenzo’s illusionary voice sounds mournful as it travels into my head.“She won’t even look at us now. We offered her so much…”

She offered him more than anyone, while he welcomed her with his heart on his sleeve. I can see why her seeming rejection deflated him. But still?—

I swipe my hand through the air dismissively. “Don’t you see? She’sprotectingus. After everything she was brave enough to do?—”

Neven interrupts me. “What are you talking about? She made you all use your gifts when you could have been caught, and then she turned her back on us. She hasn’t done anything at all to thank you.”

I can’t stop a laugh from sputtering out of me. “You don’t think so? She did exactly what we always planned to do. She did our dirty workforus, all by herself—she saw it was still possible to win even when we gave up ages ago.”

Bastien’s gaze sharpens into a glare. “Now you just sound insane. What work did she do?”

I have to drop my voice even though I can feel that there’s no one remotely nearby to overhear. “She killed Tarquin, you idiots. Did you really think him dying on her own fucking wedding night was a coincidence?”

Lorenzo blinks at me, his brow knitting.“How couldshehave killed him? The medics said it was a natural death.”

“I was dancing with her when he fell,” Bastien adds. “Had her hands right in mine. I think I’d have noticed if she’d carried out an assassination.”

Neven frowns. “Didn’t she run right over to see if she couldcurehim?”

“Of course she needed a cover story.” I exhale in a rush of exasperation. “Do you really think a woman so stoic she could hide the fact that she’s dying from food poisoning couldn’t fake a little concern? That a woman who could outsmart every noble lady in the imperial court and cure herself of anything shy of a broken bone couldn’t come up with some secret means of offing an old man?”

Bastien studies me for a long moment. When he speaks again, he’s more resigned than angry. “I think you’re telling yourself stories to make yourself feel better about our epic misjudgment.”

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