Page 12 of A Dance of Shadows

Or could this be more deliberate provocation—testing whether I’ll betray the secret his twin revealed to me with my reactions? Whether he can push me to agreeing to an assassination?

He’s been in an even more unnerving mood than usual whenever he’s been around me these past several days, whatever the cause might be.

Marclinus keeps up his attentions for three songs in a row, not offering the honor of a dance to any of the other ladies, as much as I might prefer to share the privilege. At the end of the third song, he lifts our joined hands in the air and pitches his voice to carry throughout the vast room.

“Stop the music! Everyone’s attention, please!”

He all but drags me to the head of the room, forcing me to jog to keep up with his brisk strides. There, he lifts me up with him onto one of the padded benches before joining me so we can look out over the entire gathered court.

Marclinus raises our clasped hands again. “We wanted you all to know that we leave those of you who aren’t joining us on our tour with excellent news. My wife has determined that she is pregnant! The next in my esteemed imperial line is on the way. I’m sure my heir will do me every bit as much credit as I did my father.”

At the wave of applause, I make myself beam for our audience. He might have said “we,” but I had no idea he intended to make this announcement tonight. I suppose the choice isn’t unreasonable.

I have to think there’s more to it than him wanting his court to celebrate with us, though.

Next to me, Marclinus’s gaze sweeps over the crowd. His smile has turned even sharper. What is he looking for?

I spot Bastien’s auburn hair and pale face nearby, and Lorenzo and Raul watching from farther back, but I don’t linger on either of them.

Marclinus hops down from the bench abruptly. As I follow him, my pulse lurches.

But he doesn’t head toward any of my lovers. Instead, he strides over to one of the older marchions—one of the nobles who’s been a little cold to me since my triumph in the trials, though I hadn’t thought my husband had noticed. It’s never happened in front of him.

Marclinus prods the man on the chest. “You don’t look as happy as I’d hope at such a joyful announcement, Syrus. Is something bothering you?”

Marchion Syrus’s stance goes rigid. The noblemen he was chatting with ease away from him as if afraid of being tainted by his sudden ill-favor.

He manages a beseeching smile. “No, not at all, Your Imperial Majesty. It’s wonderful news. I congratulate both you and your lovely wife. May the empire’s grandeur continue forever!”

My husband sets his hand on my ass with a pat firm enough to bring an embarrassed flush prickling up my neck. “She is quite lovely, isn’t she? I’m not sure I’m convinced that you appreciate our marriage properly. I won’t have anyone dampening the mood on our travels. Why don’t you go back to your estate in Porcia instead and rally some of the locals to take another stab at conquering Icar, hmm?”

The marchion’s mouth tightens at the realization that he’s lost the honor of being part of the traveling court—and that his emperor has just assigned him with a duty I can only imaginewill be unpleasant, even if he doesn’t have to join the fighting himself.

All the same, he bows his head. “Whatever serves you best, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Exactly.” Marclinus draws me away without a backward glance.

It seems safest not to remark on his unexpected animosity. It fits my purposes to have one of my critics sent away from court rather than potentially murmuring in my husband’s ear, after all.

I can’t say I feel much sympathy for the man who complained enough to get his daughter dragged into the trials and holds some grudge against me for her death. If he and his fellow nobles had accepted my arrival in the first place, there wouldn’t have been any trials at all.

The man who I presume is Linus sweeps and gropes me through another couple of dances before finally deciding he owes at least a few other ladies a little attention. I drift over to obtain a pastry from one of the passing servers, hoping that he’ll leave me be for at least as long as I’m eating.

The nobles I pass pause their dancing and conversations to bow and offer their own congratulations. It’s easier to accept their approval knowing the life growing inside me has no connection at all to the imperial family.

This child ismine—mine and my princes’. I’ve won one victory without anyone I could consider an enemy being the wiser.

The sugary dough of the flaky roll melts like butter on my tongue. As I nibble on it, Vicerine Bianca glides over. She looks me up and down, but for once I don’t feel as if my figure is the slightest bit inadequate compared to her more voluptuous form.

“Many congratulations are in order,” she says. “You really have been an ideal wife in all ways.”

Her typical arch tone comes out softer than usual, enough so that I don’t think there’s any rancor in her observation. She’s already told me that she doesn’t resent my role in Marclinus’s life, and I’ve never interfered with hers as his mistress, however much she enjoys those duties—or doesn’t.

I keep my own voice warm in return. “I’m glad to add to the success of Marclinus’s reign however I can.”

“I suppose it’s not surprising it happened so quickly, given how… attentive he’s been.” A note of wryness creeps into Bianca’s words. She pauses, considering me with a more thoughtful expression. “Thank you for allowing me to join the traveling court. I’d much rather be surrounded by friends than at home tending to our estate.”

She assumes I simply didn’t argue with Marclinus’s preferences. A brief laugh slips out of me. “I was the one who suggested you—although of course my husband was happy to agree.”

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