Page 95 of A Pact of Blood

Why is he playing into the empire’s hands? Getting chummy with the higher powers and showing off in front of them?

Neven’s hand darts down his front in a hasty gesture of the divinities. “You believe in stealth, and Bastien wants to talk everything through, and Lorenzo just plays his music. I’m supposed to be the might. I have… I have a duty to find out where my strength can take me.”

Something about his phrasing and his appeal to the gods niggles at me. I glance at the statue I just manipulated to my ends and back at my younger foster brother, an uneasy inkling rising up in my mind.

“You think this is what Sabrelle wants.”

He’s dedicated to the warrior godlen, sacrificed most of the teeth in his face to her for his gift, getting the painful steel replacements. I’ve never seen him cater to her inclinations quite this much, though.

Neven crosses his arms over his chest. “I know it’s what she wants. She showed me that I need to step up. I don’t needyoulooking out for me when my godlen is pointing me in the right direction.”

Before I can say anything else, a sharp bellow calls any lingering nobles to return to their carriages. Neven spins on his heel and hurries off without another word.

I head to my own vehicle, my stomach sinking. I don’t know what Sabrelle conveyed to the kid by sign or dream or whatever other means, but I can already tell I don’t like it at all.

How in the realms are any of us going to convince him to listen to us over a god?

Chapter Thirty-One

Aurelia

The first thing Marclinus does after he’s escorted me to my chambers is throw wide the double doors at the far end of the bedroom. “Thisis the most laudable quality of our Rexoran palace. Take a look, wife!”

I venture over beside him, willing away my travel weariness, and peer out beyond the doors.

The bright mid-day sun streams over a walled garden right inside the palace itself. The building stretches in a looming stone rectangle around the inner grounds. Graceful trees shade marble benches, a burbling fountain, and cobblestone pathways between plump shrubs and flowerbeds, all of which give off a mix of heady perfumes.

I take a deep breath of the warm, floral air. For once, I don’t have to lie to my husband. “It’s lovely.”

Marclinus grins and motions exuberantly to a wall only one story high that cuts through the inner grounds. “Thesection on this side is reserved for imperial use—you and I alone. The only doors that open into it are from the imperial apartments. The part on the other side of that wall for the rest of our court is larger but I’d say not half as stunning.”

He draws back with a yank of the doors as if to indicate that the view isn’t for me just now and swipes his hands together. “All right. If you’re insisting on doing this, get yourself presentable for Creaden’s rite. You can hardly put yourself before my people all travel-rumpled.”

My smile tightens. I dip my head in acknowledgment, and he lopes out of the room with a holler to one of the footmen bringing along our trunks.

He sounds as if he’s lost any enthusiasm in my participating in the rite again. Is there something about the long days of travel that provokes his temper and turns him more sour toward me?

I’d like to think it’s possible he’ll soften once the rites are over and we can settle in at one residence or another for months at a time, but we were perfectly settled at the capital palace when he poisoned me.

We’re meant to carry out the rite in just a few hours. I calm my own mind as well as I can, barely listening to my maids’ fawning chatter as I soak in a bath and then let them primp and prepare me.

I’ve chosen another white gown for the task ahead, even though I don’t know what it entails. Reminding the people of my desire for peace and healing has seemed to work well in the past.

When my hair is completely pinned up in its delicate swoops around my head and my face has been powdered, I dismiss my maids with the excuse that I’d like to meditate before the rite. I do spend several minutes on that, shoring up my well of inner serenity, but then I go to my trunk of supplies.

I concocted an ointment for the sharpening of one’s vision before we left the capital. The effects should last for the rest of the day.

Carefully, I dab a little of the cool gel into my eyes and blink to spread it across their surface. A faint stinging sensation spreads through them, but no tears form.

Using the same test I did when I was perfecting the mixture, I set a book open on my vanity and step back to see if I can read it from a distance. With my normal vision, I need to be no more than five paces away to make out the print.

With my concoction, I can manage eight. A significant improvement.

Let’s hope that Bastien’s information will serve me well and that seeing clearly in a literal sense will help me through the rite ahead.

The city bells announce the hour. A knock sounds on my door. “We’ll escort you to the temple now, Your Imperial Highness.”

Kassun is among my personal guard this afternoon. As we walk through the gleaming marble halls to the waiting carriage, he steps slightly closer, his voice pitched low. “Are you sure you’ll be all right, Your Imperial Highness?”

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