Page 1 of A Dance of Shadows

Chapter One

Aurelia

One moment, I’m staring at the man I believed was my husband. The next, with a violent lurch of my stomach, I have to shove myself away from him.

I scramble into the bathing room as fast as my wobbly legs will carry me, just in time. My stomach heaves again, and I vomit the remains of my celebratory feasting into the marble bowl of the toilet.

Acid burns my throat. As I sputter and spit, my cheeks flush with a similar burn, as if I have anything to be embarrassed about.

There are some scenarios the body simply isn’t equipped to handle. Having your supposed husband tell you you’ve actually been married to two men and that he wants your help murdering his twin brother? That’s clearly one of them.

The lingering nausea of my pregnancy won’t have helped matters either. At least I can use that as an excuse for my reaction.

Marclinus—no, justMarc, if he’s to be believed—has followed me into the bathing room.As I sink onto the polished tiles, he bends over me, tucking my hair back from my face with a gentleness I still find startling.

Perhaps I shouldn’t. While it’s clear that both sides I’ve seen of Marclinus contain plenty of brutality, he offered me tenderness or warmth several times in the past.

I thought those softer moments amid the cruelty merely reflected the shifting moods of an infuriatingly capricious man. If what he’s saying is true, it’s more likely that they reflect one twin being capable of some shred of compassion while the other lacks it entirely.

I suppose I should be grateful the one who’s capable of it is the one making the confession.

Marc wets a cloth and crouches next to me to bring the damp fabric to my face. My blush deepens. He’s cleaning me up like a maid with a feeble mistress.

I touch his arm. “You don’t need to?—”

He clicks his tongue at me. “You’re my wife. You’re carrying my child. Of course I’ll tend to you.”

I’m too shaky to raise more protest.

Sprite, my new kitten, bumps her head into my hand with a soft mew, and I stroke my fingers over her soft fur reflexively. The motion helps ground me.

We still have quite a conversation ahead of us.

Gods help me, Elox hinted at this revelation in some of the visions he sent me, didn’t he? My godlen showed me two lambs racing away, one bird breaking free from another…

My husband has been my greatest enemy these past few months. Now I might have two equally powerful—and equally dangerous—foes.

None of this kindness will last if Marc finds out just how far I’ve gone to secure my place as empress.

When he’s finished with his brief ministrations, he tosses the cloth onto the side of the bathtub. His pale gray eyes study me, his striking face set in one of its cool expressions that I find unreadable.

“I hope the pregnancy won’t be too hard on you,” he says. Apparently he’s taking my illness as entirely due to my condition and not his confession—or his murderous request.

I adjust my weight to get to my feet, scooping up Sprite as I do. “I haven’t been faring too badly so far. I think perhaps—when there’s a particular shock?—”

He has to at least understand that much.

Marc grips my elbow to help me up, standing alongside me. He gives me a mild smile, crooked around the edges. “I did say it would be a lot to grasp. But you needed to know.”

I’d imagine I am better off knowing than not, as difficult as the news has been to swallow.

On steadier feet, I walk with my sort-of husband back into the bedroom. I pour myself a glass of water from the pitcher on a side table so I can wash the sourness from my mouth before returning to the sofa where he made his confession. With Sprite nestled on my lap, I pet her back in a reassuring rhythm.

As my queasiness subsides, questions whirl in my head.Ishe even telling the truth? Marclinus has come up with all kinds of elaborate ways of testing and tormenting me in the past. What if this mad story is simply another of them, a reminder of just how dangerous an enemy even one man can be?

My gaze flicks to his pale, chiseled features—to the pink notch through the left side of his upper lip. I touch my own mouth in the same spot. “You’ve always had that scar.” I’d have noticed if it’d temporarily vanished.

Marc makes a quick grimace. “When we were four, Linus got his hands on a razor and thought he’d ‘shave’ himself like the barber did for Father. I’m lucky the nursemaid caught himbefore he cut himself more. Father had to nick me the same way so we’d still match.”

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