Page 20 of A Pact of Blood

I follow him over, taking a plate that one of the servers hands me. I purposefully arranged for this banquet to be a buffet, with small portions that the nobles can nibble on as they continue circulating through the room if they wish to stay on their feet.

The setup will allow me to circulate betweenthem, making the most of this opportunity to talk with them while they’re enjoying my generosity. With a little luck, at least a few of them will view me in a more favorable light by the end of the evening.

Now that I’m empress, the imperial tasters try every dish I’m interested in before I take my portion. I start with the honey-glazed duck and stewed lacquernuts before meandering between the clusters of nobles.

Emperor Tarquin and his son have beaten the expectations of respect into his court. I can’t pass anyone’s sight without them bobbing their head to me. It’s a bitabsurd, but it gives me plenty of openings to strike up a conversation.

At the acknowledgment of two pairs of barons and baronissas, I join their small group. “I hope you’re finding the meal to your liking.”

I doubt they’d admit it if they didn’t, but the speed with which they’re devouring their first round lends their effusive words some weight.

“It’s always exciting to discover new flavors,” one of the baronissas gushes.

I beam as if in delight. “I’ve found the same—and there’ve been so many new things to discover since I’ve arrived in Dariu. I know the loss of our former Imperial Majesty has cast a pall over the court. If there’s anything I might not have thought of on my own that would ease your troubles or raise your spirits, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Her husband hums. “It is a great loss, but everything has been handled splendidly. I wouldn’t mind seeing more Ularian wine served at our dinners, though.”

The leadership of his country and the entire empire has changed without warning, and he’s most interested in his beverage selection?

Well, perhaps he’s afraid to say anything that could come across as more critical.

I offer another smile. “I’m sure I can see to that.”

I amble onward from one group to the next. A couple of marchionissas deny that anything in the world could be improved, but a viceroy brings up a graver concern.

He dips his voice low as if he’s worried he’ll spark a panic. “I appreciate knowing that the empire can count on Accasy’s loyalty with you standing by our emperor. I trust Your Imperial Eminences are keeping a close eye on our nearer neighbors.”

I can’t stop my eyebrows from arching. “Has there been unrest reported in the other territories?” I haven’t heard of any, though I suppose it’s possible Marclinus wouldn’t have brought me into those discussions.

The viceroy clicks his tongue. “The rebellious elements never know what’s good for them—always looking to cause trouble. They might see Emperor Tarquin’s passing as an opportunity to strike out. But of course our new emperor will stamp out any signs of dissention swiftly and firmly.”

Marclinus had better do that, he’s actually saying, just wording it so it can’t sound like he’s telling the imperial family what to do.

From what I’ve seen and heard, the empire’s conquered countries are far too beaten down to spring into major rebellion at a moment’s notice, but I can’t say I’m surprised the Darium nobles would worry about it. “He absolutely will,” I say confidently, with a twist of my gut at the thought of just how brutally my husband is likely to crush even a whiff of discontent abroad.

As I continue my circuit of the room, I encounter a few more anxious murmurs—overheard or spoken to me directly—about the possibility of rebels testing the new emperor’s strength. But most of the matters raised are as vapid as the first baron’s wine preferences.

At least the more superficial matters are easier to address without feeling I’m encouraging hostility toward the outer territories. I smile and nod, nod and smile, promising that I’ll see that the city’s most prominent shoe designer stops by the palace soon, that more marigolds will be added to the gardens, and that a new bath oil scent one marchionissa has heard about will be ordered in.

One gray-haired marchion isn’t so eager to talk. He bobs his head in acknowledgement and takes in my question with chilly eyes.

“The thing I’d most want to ask for cannot be offered,” he says flatly, and returns to the buffet table.

I watch him go, recognition tugging at my mind. His features reminded me of one of my competitors in the trials—maybe Giralda?

Is that her father? Does he blamemefor the loss of a daughter, simply because I survived and she didn’t?

I wouldn’t have let anyone die if it’d been up to me rather than Tarquin and Marclinus, but I don’t think going over and reminding the marchion of that will warm him to me. It’s much easier to resent the interloper than the men who’ve held such sway over his life.

As I amble on, my path brings me toward Bastien and Lorenzo more than once. The two princes always happen to drift off in another direction before I get close enough that they’d need to acknowledge me. I catch Raul’s eye and thank him for the combat lessons he’s promised, but saying more feels unwise.

My heart beats a little faster just feeling his dark gaze on me as I move on.

By the time I add more food to my plate and take a moment to sit at one of the tables, I have quite a list of court requests in my head. Whether it’ll engender good will toward me for more than a moment or two, it’s difficult to tell, but at least it’s a starting point.

I accept the compliments of the nobles whose table I’ve joined and make the same appeal for advice. After they’ve informed me of how they’d love to see a new statue of Tarquin erected, perhaps one of solid gold, my smile feels even stiffer.

The dining room is full of light and mouth-watering scents, but I can’t sense any of the warmth that would have permeated a banquet back in the main Accasian palace. For a few seconds, I’m overwhelmed with longing for the spiritedconversations and companiable laughter between my family and colleagues that never felt calculated the way every remark and giggle does here.

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