Page 88 of A Pact of Blood

Lorenzo holds out his hand to me with a questioning gesture.May I have this dance?

All I can do is let out a giddy laugh and twine my fingers with his.

None of this is real. Not the music or the achingly familiar imagery of home or the impression that we’re free to dance together without any fear of consequences.

But this temporary, illusionary escape is the best gift I can imagine getting right now, reality being what it is.

We glide around the room, Lorenzo resting one hand on the small of my back. He draws me close against his toned chest and nuzzles my hair at a lull in his conjured music. When his mouth grazes my skin, I tip back my face to welcome a fuller kiss.

Raul clears his throat, watching the two of us from the side of the room with an amused expression. “I think you’ve gotten to show off enough. Our empress deserves a chance to dance with all of us away from prying eyes.”

As Lorenzo releases me with a friendly grin, I arch my eyebrows at the prince of Lavira. “It often seems your eyes—and gift—are doing much of the prying.”

“Hmm.” He leans in, tucking me flush against his massive frame in a way we’d never dare in front of the court. “I’ll never venture farther than you want me, Shepherdess. I just intend to keep ensuring you want me everywhere.”

His suggestive tone sends an eager shiver over my skin, even though I hadn’t planned on letting tonight’s encounter get very intimate.

As we step with the music, Raul teases his fingers all the way down my spine to my ass and up again. “What else would we do if you brought us home with you? Other than taking plenty of tumbles in your wild northern bed, of course.”

I let out a soft snort, though I’m sure he isn’t wrong.

My thoughts drift beyond the imagery Lorenzo has crafted. “I’d show you the big wild woods we’re fond of—much more breathtaking than the tame imperial forest. Hold a festival in the capital so we could dance among the city folk rather than ringed off by guards. We’ve some gifted musicians of our own.” I aim a smile at Lorenzo over Raul’s shoulder. “And you’d have to sample treats from all my favorite bakeries and cafes in town…”

“Hmm. I think we’ll have to make that dream real someday too.”

I tip my head against the massive man’s shoulder, tamping down a pang of homesickness. “I’d like that. And I’d like to see all of your homes too.”

Raul chuckles. “I can just picture you politely sparring with my parents and sisters. The fiercest of diplomats, all of you. But of course I’d have to whisk you off to have you all to myself for a little while. There’s this secluded cove along the lakeshore where we could tuck ourselves away…”

He dips his head to nibble a path down the side of my neck, and a gasp slips out of me. I’m starting to think maybe the mess of stripping down in my current state would be worth it when Lorenzo reclaims me.

The prince of Rione’s eyes shine as I rest my hands on his chest. His thumb strokes a gentle line over my ribs.

I beam back at him. “I already know a little of what you’d like to share of your home. The picture you painted with words during the rite of Prospira was beautiful.”

Lorenzo lifts one hand so he can sign his answer.More beautiful with you there.

Even after everything that’s already passed between us, a blush warms my cheeks.

I dance with him through another song and then sway back to Raul, letting everything but the illusion fade away. Then the panel in the wall slides open.

With a startled laugh, Bastien passes into the illusion, gaping at the imagery conjured around him. He aims a crooked smile at Lorenzo. “I didn’t know you were planning a party.”

Not planned, his foster brother answers. A sheen of sweat has formed on his forehead, but he adds,I can hold it so you can dance too.

“I’m not going to refuse that offer.”

Bastien turns to me as Raul releases me without complaint—though with a provocative caress of my thigh. The prince of Cotea presents me with a small cloth carry-bag. “I thought you’d want something discreet to keep it in. I hope I brought enough.”

I tug the bag open to check the lumps of socha moss inside and grab Bastien in a hug. “It’s plenty. Thank you so much.”

He embraces me tightly in return. “It’s to all our benefit too. Now how about that dance?”

I haven’t twirled around the room with Bastien since our last dance when Emperor Tarquin collapsed. Perhaps he’s remembering that too, because as he sets his hand on my waist, his expression turns briefly solemn. “It should always have been like this. It should alwaysbelike this. One way or another, we’ll make it happen.”

I grasp his shoulder, wishing I never had to let go. “I won’t stop trying until we get there.”

After our second dance, the traces of strain in Lorenzo’s face have deepened—his jaw flexing, a crease forming in his brow. It’s a complex illusion to maintain for so long.

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