Page 22 of A Pact of Blood

Bastien is standing by one of the central tables, in almost the same place where we spoke the first time I encountered him in this room what feels like a century ago.

The hardening of his expression is as if no time and nothing else has passed between us since that awkward conversation.

I step forward cautiously, studying his stance, aware of the guards who’ll have trailed through the halls behind me—who’ll follow me into the library as they judge necessary. Most of the things I’d like to say to the prince of Cotea, I don’t dare.

I keep my tone mild, my gaze steady. “Prince Bastien. It’s my good fortune that I’ve run into you here. I was hoping to find records about the life of past empresses—perhaps you know where I might find something like that?”

It’s a subtle overture of peace, one he could accept or dismiss.

Or smack it away like a stinging gnat, as the case may be.

Bastien’s voice comes out as stiff as his posture. “I’m sure Your Imperial Highness can find it on your own, as you prefer to do things.”

He stalks to the door, giving me a wide berth. My lips part, the words to try to call him back rising to them—and at the same moment, two guards arrive.

I nod to them with feigned gratitude and tamp down the ache in my heart as Bastien disappears into the hall.

I shouldn’t be shocked by his vehemence, should I? From what Raul said, Bastien spearheaded the plan to arrange our escape.

He tossed aside all the caution I know he’s clung to sofervently in his determination to keep his foster brothers safe. He tossed it aside for my sake.

And I threw his passionate gamble back in his face, however necessary that choice was.

If I’d realized his devotion to me ranthatdeep… I don’t know if I could have done anything differently. But the knowledge brings a lump into my throat that I can’t swallow away.

It turns out I could have used Bastien’s help, if the records I’m looking for even exist. I putter around the library until two hourly bells have pealed beyond the palace walls, but I don’t come up with anything closer than historic accounts of imperial military campaigns from more than a hundred years past.

Perhaps I’ve simply missed the relevant books in this vast collection, or possibly those accounts are housed in the records room I don’t have access to.

I make my way back to my chambers. When the door shuts behind me, I’m finally alone.

Standing in the middle of the luxurious bedroom, gold glinting and satin shimmering all around me, my pulse wobbles.

What have I accomplished today other than determining that the people of court are frivolous and xenophobic—both of which I already knew—and giving myself a list of trivial chores? Do the nobles have friendlier feelings toward me now, or will they keep whispering to each other just as much about the wild princess who’s become their empress?

I tip my face toward the gleaming ceiling and close my eyes, tapping my fingers down my front in the gesture of the divinities.Elox, I’m following the path you guided me to. How should I proceed in our quest for peace?

I hold myself still for several minutes in meditative daze.No matter how I detach my mind and let my thoughts drift freely, no message I can discern comes to me.

My godlen hasn’t totally ignored me, though. When I tuck myself in bed in my nightgown and drift off into sleep, a dream is waiting to meet me.

I’m crouched in a vast green field, the grass tickling against my bare shins. Each of my arms is looped around the wooly body of a lamb.

I’m hugging the animals close, but with a sudden bleat, they break from my embrace. The lambs spring off in opposite directions, hurtling away from me.

I can only catch one of them. Imustcatch one of them. But how can I decide which?

The sense of urgency blares through me, and I jolt awake in the darkness. The shapes of the room swim before my weary eyes.

I revisit the images of the dream in my mind over and over, looking for a clue. What do the two lambs represent? What sort of equal division am I meant to choose between?

I received my message, but I can’t say I have any clue how to decipher it.

Chapter Eight

Lorenzo

As the servers bring around our second course of breakfast, a creamy sweet smell reaches my nose. A sudden pang of loss hits me alongside memories of the terrace outside my family’s main palace, the view of the ocean to one side and the sprawl of white-washed city buildings to the other.

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