Page 87 of A Pact of Blood

Bastien lifts his chin. “They don’t get to decide our lives. If they have a problem with getting rid of Marclinus, they should have guidedhimto be a better human being.”

Their emphatic support brings a trace of my smile back despite the melancholy lingering around my heart. “I was just hoping we could already be on our way. We’re not even really started yet.”

Lorenzo tightens his embrace.“You have all your skills,and all of ours as well, as much as you need them. Nothing ever holds you back for long.”

His comment about my skills sends inspiration tingling through my head. I’ve never put my gift to this particular purpose before, but— “I could brew a fertility potion. I should have thought of that to begin with! It isn’t exactlyhealing, but it’s close enough…”

I drift away from the men as I reach to my gift, focusing on the purpose of encouraging a new life to take hold in my womb. Images of the necessary ingredients and the ways to prepare them flit behind my eyes.

One draws me up short. “Oh. It never occurred to me to keep a supply of socha.” Probably because up until now, I’ve been much more focused on preventing pregnancy than encouraging it.

The princes have watched my pacing. Raul cocks his head. “Will it be hard to get your hands on some?”

“Not exactly… It’s a sort of moss that grows only on the trunks of evergreen trees. Pale green with a star-like shape to the leaves and tiny orange flowers. I’ve seen it in the woods here on the imperial grounds at least once.”

Bastien nods. “I know the kind you mean. I’ve definitely come across it.”

“I don’t think it has much medical useotherthan encouraging fertility, though.” I suck my lower lip under my teeth as I think over the implications. “And it’s not the sort of plant I might be gathering simply for decoration. I’m not sure I want my guards wondering what I’m up to and mentioning it to Marclinus. When I do get pregnant, it should seem like the natural course of things, not something I went out of my way to ensure.”

I don’t want there to be any chance at all of someone tying my future child to a plot to murder the emperor shortly thereafter.

Bastien catches my hand with a brief squeeze. “You don’t even need to worry about that. I can go find some right now and bring it back to you without any guards being the wiser. It’s not as if I have a host of them followingmearound.”

Of course. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not mired in this awful situation on my own.

I grip his hand tightly in return before letting it go. “Thank you. You don’t have to gather it right away—it won’t matter for several more days at least?—”

“Better to get it done now while I definitely have the chance to bring it to you unnoticed.” He lowers his head for another swift kiss and heads into the hidden passage.

As I watch the panel shut behind him, another uneasy thought rises up. “We’re going to be leaving for Rexoran to carry out Creaden’s confirmation rite soon. Another week on the road each way and who knows how long at that imperial residence without being able to reach each other through secret hallways.”

“We have other ways of getting around the guards’ notice,”Lorenzo reminds me.“We’ve seen for sure that yours can’t detect magic. As long as Marclinus isn’t nearby, I can use my gift to conceal you.”

I touch his cheek, warmed by the affection shining in his dark eyes even if I doubt his suggestion will be carried out so easily. “Whisking me away right under their noses will be quite a feat.”

He smiles.“You’ve only seen a few glimpses of what I’m capable of.”He glances toward Raul.“I think our empress could use cheering up. Why don’t I give her a trip to more familiar ground?”

I knit my brow. “What do you mean?”

Lorenzo brushes a kiss to my temple.“I’ve been doing a little different reading from usual. There are a few accounts from delegates and other travelers who ventured up to the wild north.One of them even included little paintings in her journal. I just won’t be able to concentrate enough to create my voice while I’m also doing this…”

The room around me shimmers. The dull walls and pieces of worn, mismatched furniture fade away.

Suddenly I’m seeing bronze fixtures beaming from walls of dark wooden paneling topped by leaf-patterned wall paper. The floor has transformed into a matching polished wood. A vast hearth crackles with a cheery fire, and a thick-beamed ceiling arches high above our heads.

I lose my breath. Everywhere I look, I pick up on more familiar details: the treetop imagery etched in the mantle over the fireplace, the sturdy style of the side table holding a carafe of some beverage.

Even the air tastes almost right. A hint of pine and woodsmoke winds through its coolness.

It’s not exact. But if I woke up in this place instead of having it created around me out of much drabber surroundings, I’m not sure how quickly I’d realize it’s an illusion.

I spin around, absorbing every facet of the conjured space with a soaring sensation inside me. “This is incredible. It looks just like a common room in one of the noble houses back in Accasy.” My gaze darts back to Lorenzo. “You captured it so well.”

One corner of his lips curves upward again. I can only imagine how much effort it’s taking to produce such a solid and detailed illusion. No wonder he can only speak with his hands while he’s doing it.

His fingers curl between us.All for you.

With a tick of his head, music winds through the room—the usual sprightly melody of the imperial court dance, not an Accasian song, but he wouldn’t have been able to learn an entire musical style from a few sparse records.

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