Page 121 of A Dance of Shadows

Neven cuts me off with a curt, scoffing laugh. “Intercede? What have you ever done, really? I wanted to protect you, but you don’t even stand up for yourself. You let so much happen right in front of you… Even when he’s having your own people offed, you just stand there saying nice words… What kind of empress is that?”

His criticism hits me like a punch in the face. I sway backward a step before I gather my rattled nerves.

“Your Imperial Highness?” Kassun calls out from his respectful distance behind us. I raise my hand to hold off his concern.

Neven’s accusation still stings. He’s seen how brutal our emperor can be—he knows how much I’ve endured just to stay alive.

What more does he really think Icouldhave done and still be here to act as empress at all?

A lump has filled my throat, but I manage to speak past it. “I promise you I do as much as I can without crossing the line into making the situation worse. It’s a difficult balance. If you feel I haven’t been appreciative enough of your contributions, I?—”

“Oh, fuck off.”

As he tosses the insult at me, Neven’s expression twitches as if even he didn’t expect to go that far. Then he spins on his heel and marches back to his carriage without another word.

Well, that conversation didn’t go in any direction I was hoping for. I’ve had to keep so much distance from all of the princes, and what little time I’ve been able to spend away from prying eyes has been focused on my lovers.

Maybe I should have insisted on including Neven in our planning more, even with the new developments that have made our situation so much more precarious.

Although I’m still not sure that revealing Marclinus’s secret to the prince of Goric would have been a wise idea. If he let himself lash out at me so blatantly, how well will he continue to keep his control around my husband?

When I turn back toward my own vehicle, I’m relieved to see that Marc is deep in discussion with one of the marchions rather than following my conversation. If he had been watching, I don’t think he could have failed to realize that Neven was hardly welcoming, even without hearing the exact words.

Composing myself, I stroll back over just as one of the servants arrives with our platters of food. “Prince Neven wasn’t feeling well. I’ll get his input another time.”

Marc gives me a hand up back into the carriage and squeezes my fingers before releasing them. “I want to have a quick chat with Counsel Etta. Then I’ll join you for our meal.”

I manage a smile, even though my skin prickles at the thought of his guards—and their gifts—leaving with him. “Takewhatever time you need. I know you have plenty of important matters to attend to.”

As I start to eat, I leave the carriage door open and gaze out toward the towering mountain range beyond the village. The houses are clustered on a low slant along the road, higher than the forests we left back in Accasy but far below the intimidating peaks that touch the clouds.

No one knows how far those eastern mountains extend. I’ve heard that some explorers have attempted to venture beyond them, but they either vanish or return reporting that the trek became impossible.

When the All-Giver abandoned our continent, horrified by our ancestors’ destructive magic, the Great God ensured we couldn’t try to follow. The mountains cut off our passage east. The storms on the vaster ocean beyond the Sunblown Sea swallow up any boats that try to sail abroad in any other direction.

For better or worse, we’re stuck with these lands alone and the patterns of rule that have developed on them. Until someone figures out a way to earn the All-Giver’s forgiveness, at least. After five centuries, it’s hard to believe that’s even possible.

With those melancholy thoughts in my head, I take another bite of bread without really tasting it. It doesn’t feel like much, churning between my teeth.

Then I swallow, and it snags in my throat.

I try to gasp, to swallow harder, but what seemed like a tiny morsel clogs my airway completely. My lungs heave with a jolt of panic. I sputter in an attempt to cough and shove myself toward the doorway with the intention of waving for help.

My gaze falls on the open door, and my long-ago lessons in basic medical care come back to me.

I yank the door toward me as I throw myself toward its upper edge. The firm surface hits my abdomen just above the swell of my belly.

My chest muscles spasm, and a cough finally explodes from my throat. The bit of bread flies from my lips and falls to the ground.

My guards are scrambling down from their perch on the carriage. Kassun’s eyes widen. “Are you all right, Your Imperial Highness?”

“I’m fine now,” I say hastily—and a little hoarsely. Both my sternum and my throat ache as I sink back into my seat.

My gaze flicks over the terrain around us again, but not as far as the mountains this time. I’m scanning every figure in uniform, whether staff or soldier, for signs of guilt.

I don’t see any. But dread congeals behind my ribs all the same.

Wasthatincident just an accident? Just another coincidence that I could have lost my life when my husband’s guards were too far away to sense magic being worked around—or on—me?

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