Page 39 of A Pact of Blood

Chapter Thirteen

Bastien

I’ve never trusted Marclinus farther than I could throw him. As he ushers his wife, my fellow princes, and me through the palace halls, I have even less certainty about his motives than usual.

Did someone catch a glimpse of my kiss with Aurelia after all? If he’s taking some kind of vengeance on me, why is he insisting on bringing the others along?

Or has he somehow discovered our plot from nearly a week ago and come up with a sadistic scheme of his own to make us pay for imagining we could escape the empire’s chains?

Aurelia glides along next to him, the picture of serene grace. If the image of her frantic expression when she approached me in the darkness wasn’t emblazoned in my memory, I might have believed she was totally unconcerned.

The imprint of her mouth is burned into my lips. Mypulse never had a chance to stop racing before Marclinus summoned us over and gave it a very different sort of reason to scatter.

She willingly admitted her treason to me. She gave me the means to prove it if I decided to be more vengeful.

She put her life on the line to show how much I matter to her and kissed me like she couldn’t bear to spend another moment apart.

How can I doubt her now? How much was my earlier anger even justified rather than the shame that the risksItook that didn’t pan out the way I hoped?

No matter what she’s said, I can’t shake the sense that I’ve been stupid somewhere. I missed things. I presumed things.

What if this situation is even more tangled than I’d have guessed five minutes ago?

Raul saunters along with a nonchalant front, but I catch a hint of the tension he’s suppressing in the flexing of his hands. Lorenzo hasn’t been able to restrain a frown.

Neven marches among us with his shoulders braced and his forehead furrowed, as if he’s ready to fight but confused about whether he needs to. We’re going to have to keep a particular eye on the kid, no matter where this scenario leads.

Marclinus directs us into one of the palace’s smaller sitting rooms, which means it’s still a little larger than my very respectable bedroom. Several embroidered armchairs wait in a loose ring around a low table.

The emperor takes the most ornate chair on one side of the table and motions for Aurelia to sit next to him. As the rest of us sink into the chairs opposite them, one of the staff arrives with a platter holding six goblets and a large bottle of wine.

Marclinus grins in approval and waves the woman over. “Here we go. Something for everyone.”

He sets out the goblets himself with a flourish, one infront of each of us, and then leans back while the woman pours the wine. A slender man I don’t recognize slips into the room and remains near the doorway, just a few paces from the four guards who’ve also followed us in. He studies us, his face taut.

What in the realms is going on here?

Marclinus dismisses the server with a flippant gesture and picks up his goblet. His tone is as jaunty as ever. “I thought we should have a drink and a chat together—me and all my companions from beyond Dariu’s borders. My foster brothers, you haven’t offered our Accasian princess a very effusive welcome. If there are any sour feelings about her rising to a station so high above your own, I hope tonight we can find some common ground.”

Is that all this private get-together is about?

I pick up my glass, no less wary than before. “I hold no animosity toward our empress. We all want what’s best for the empire, don’t we?”

I lift the goblet as if in cheers, a gesture Marclinus eagerly matches. The others grasp their own cups to join us.

It seems safest not to watch Aurelia tip her goblet to her lips, not to trace the bob of her sleek throat as she swallows. I can remember all too well how the soft skin there heated against my mouth just days ago, when for a brief moment she was completely mine.

After I’ve taken a swallow of the tartly sour liquid, I lower my glass. Lorenzo nods as if to say he agrees with my statement.

Raul relaxes into his chair with a faintly amused expression. “If we’ve failed to be gracious enough in some way, feel free to list out our mistakes so we can fix them.”

Neven takes another hesitant sip. “I didn’t realize anything was wrong.”

Marclinus tsks his tongue at us. “A little jealousy of thenew arrival is totally normal, I’d imagine. But now you have the chance to speak with her openly. Find out whatever you like about my bride.”

He sweeps his arm extravagantly with a slosh of his goblet that sends a smattering of wine onto the rug. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t even notice.

Aurelia studies him, her expression cautiously puzzled. “None of your foster brothers have troubled me,” she says in a mild tone, which is such a brazen lie I’d laugh if I were drunker. “At least, I haven’t expected anything from them that they didn’t offer. I’m sure they have plenty to keep them busy without thinking all that much about me.”

---