Page 53 of A Pact of Blood

He continues ushering me toward the dais, handing the rod to me when we’re halfway there. My fingers close around the cool surface automatically. It’s heavy, and one end holds a broader metal disc that might indicate its purpose.

Before I can inspect it, a few more sets of footsteps draw my attention back toward the room’s entrance.

Another page is just escorting the three older foster princes inside. Bastien, Raul, and Lorenzo peer at us from across the room.

My stomach sinks. I thought we’d settled whatever Marclinus was concerned about the other night when he poisoned me. What is my blasted husband up to now?

Marclinus beckons the princes over with a sweep of his arm. “Come along, come along. We can get this over with quickly, and then you can go back to whatever you were occupying yourselves with before.”

Lorenzo shoots me a quick quizzical glance, but I don’t know what’s going on any better than he does.

While the pages depart, their work done, my and Marclinus’s guards assume their positions along the walls. Marclinus has me stop next to the brazier and stands at its other side. He waits until the princes have almost reached us before motioning them to a halt a few paces away.

Bastien gazes back at the emperor with an impassive expression, not acknowledging me at all. “What’s this about, Your Imperial Majesty?”

Marclinus folds his arms over his chest. “It occurred to me with our upcoming treks across the country and the recent unrest beyond Dariu’s borders that I should implement a concrete reminder of who you owe your loyalty to ahead of any consideration of your birthplace. You should be as dedicated to the empire as you are to yourchosen godlen. So you should wear our brand as well as theirs.”

The rod wobbles in my hands. Gods help me,that’swhat it is: a brand. I tip the broader circle toward me and make out the etching of the imperial crest.

CONQUER ALL.He means to conquer his foster brothers down to their very spirit if he can.

And make his wife a party to their humiliation. Marclinus tilts his head toward me. “Your empress will do the honors so that I can focus on ensuring I see no signs of revolt in any of you. Especially our prince of Lavira.” His eyes narrow slightly as he considers Raul.

Raul’s mouth opens and closes again with a tightening of his jaw. There’s no precedent that I know of for this act. Marclinus is acting out of pure tyranny.

But who can say what worse consequences they’d face if they refuse?

I don’t know why he’s spared Neven in the same fate. Maybe he decided the younger prince didn’t pose the same sort of threat—or that the others would be less inclined to accept his request if it included harming the teenager they shadow like protective older brothers.

No, this is about something else. As my husband’s gaze lingers on my face, I’m increasingly sure it’s mainly aboutme.

He poisoned me to see how they would react. Is he testing me now to see if I’ll balk at harming them?

Surely a little protest would make sense given my nonviolent inclinations, regardless of the target?

Marclinus gestures for the princes to sink down. “On your knees. Pull off your shirts so she’s got plenty of skin to brand. We’ll place it right below your godlen sigils, since I won’t claim to be above the gods. Wife, get the brand heating up in the fire. It won’t do much while it’s cold.”

The princes are already dropping to their knees andtugging off their shirts without further protest. My throat constricts so tightly that for a moment I can’t breathe.

I turn toward my husband. “I’ve never done anything like this to another person before. To inflict that kind of pain—I’m afraid I’ll falter and make poor work of it.”

Better to focus on how it’ll affect me than what I’d rather not do to the only men in this awful place I actually care about.

Marclinus simply shakes his head. “You’ll have to steel yourself and get the job done. If you’re going to rule over this empire by my side, you need to be able to deal out pain as necessary as well as take it.”

Bastien’s mouth sets in a tense line. “We’re perfectly happy to do what it takes to show our loyalty.”

He hasn’t looked away from Marclinus, but I know that message is meant for me. He’s telling me it’s okay, that they understand I have to do this.

All our lives depend on the psychopath giving these commands. And none of these men want to see my own in danger any more than I want to risk theirs.

With a lurch of my stomach, I place the brand end of the rod into the brazier. As the flames lick over the etched disc, my queasiness only grows.

My mind scrambles for any excuse I could use to divert Marclinus, to offer a different course of action he’d find even more satisfying without doing the same permanent damage. No options swim up through my whirling thoughts.

I could simply refuse. Claim I can’t bear it and back away.

And then what? He’ll probably do the branding anyway. The princes wouldn’t be any better off, and I’d have shown my husband that he can’t count on me for a difficult task.

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