Page 119 of A Pact of Blood

My stomach balls into a knot. Elox couldn’t have sent a more blatant symbolic vision. The hawk is a symbol of the imperial family—what could he mean it to represent but my brutal husband?

My godlen is calling for peace. For me to keep enduring every insult and attack Marclinus aims at me, with the promise that if I simply keep offering tenderness and compassion in return, that sadistic man will somehow transform into a loving partner.

Is that some kind of divine joke?

As I sit up in the bed, I can’t help thinking of my conversation with Neven yesterday evening, before the worst of Marclinus’s recent offenses. I told the young prince that none of us have to follow whatever guidance the gods offer us.

That maxim has never felt truer than right now.

I can’t stop my jaw from clenching. I’ve disagreed withElox in the past, but I’ve never felt so outright angry with him.

How fuckingdarehe imply that I haven’t tried hard enough? Was I supposed to let Marclinus spread me out on the table in front of the entire court last night and take his “dessert”?

Just how much does the godlen of peace think I should let myself be broken before I’m allowed to defend myself? How much does he imagine I’m going to accomplish for his purpose if I’ve been smashed into pieces before I get the chance?

No. I did what Elox called for. I committed murder even though it turned my stomach. It was good enough for the godlen of peace that I took down one imperial figure to clear the way for the realms to heal.

I’m simply following the tacticshetaught me.

A maid arrives with hot water for my usual morning tea, and I clamber out of the bed. My kitten, now named Sprite, weaves between my ankles with a mew of greeting.

I manage a smile and bend down to ruffle her fur. But as I walk to the wash basin, a twinge runs through my lower belly.

I pause with a chill tickling over my skin. Was that the start of a cramp?

Is my monthly bleed already on the verge of returning? I wouldn’t have expected it so soon.

I see no trace of red in my drawers when I relieve myself, but as I prepare for the day, a gloom settles over me alongside my frustration with my godlen.

If I’m still no closer to producing an heir, then that’s another month I’llhaveto pretend to appreciate Marclinus’s callous whims. Another month when I can’t do anything except hold as firm as I can while he batters my foundations.

The dark edges of my inner storm cloud nibble at mymood through a breakfast of Marclinus’s jovial conversation, which he continues with the three noblemen he invites to share our carriage. I smile and nod like the wife he wants, longing for the book tucked into my travel case, knowing he’d chide me for unfriendliness if I turned to it.

As we approach the smaller waystation where we’ll be taking lunch, a flurry of activity outside the long, low building draws my gaze.

I lean closer to the window, peering at the folk in simple clothing who are dashing to and fro by the side wall. A couple of the imperial soldiers have ridden ahead and appear to be directing them.

Word must have traveled along the convoy, because the guard riding nearest my window pulls his horse toward the carriage. His mouth is set in a tight line. “You’d better not bother yourself with anything out here, Your Imperial Highness. There was a bit of a mess. The workers are cleaning it up.”

My brow knits. “What kind of a mess? What’s?—”

Then the carriage moves close enough that I can make out the words someone must have painted hastily on the wall, burgundy streaking across the pale blue surface. The letters have faded with the scrubbing of many sponges, but they’re still visible in the stark sunlight.

GO HOME TO ACCASY.

My throat closes up. I don’t know what else the message might say lower down where the letters are hidden by the workers’ bodies, but I can’t imagine it gets any warmer.

There’s no doubt who it’s meant for.

At least one person in the nearest town resents my presence enough that they thought it worth smearing their dislike across an imperial building.

Marclinus slides over and cranes his neck to take in the sight. He clicks his tongue and turns to the cavalryman. “Ifyour colleagues find the perpetrator, see that they’re properly punished.”

He glances at me with a hint of a smirk. “I’m sure the people will come around as they see how well you serve me.”

“These things take time,” I say graciously, but I have to make a conscious effort not to clench my hands in my frustration.

I don’t want whatever good will I build with Dariu’s people to be based only on what I do for their emperor. If that’s all I have, then the moment the emperor is gone, they’ll see no use in me.

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