Page 122 of A Dance of Shadows

Or has another would-be assassin picked up the mission now that I’ve dispatched the first?

Chapter Forty-Two

Lorenzo

At the peal of the first bell of the afternoon, one of the imperial guards calls the Darium court out of our secondary palace for the Goric pledging ceremony. As I leave my guest room, dread weighs on my body like a cloak of lead.

I emerge into the front courtyard where the carriages are waiting. Neven stands with his family farther down by the royal palace entrance, a sour cast on his face. A sharper spike of apprehension courses through my veins.

Raul, Bastien, and I have all tried to approach him since Aurelia passed on word that he seemed particularly out of sorts. Our younger foster brother has rebuffed us at every turn. It’s difficult to find space for a private conversation in the middle of a cross-country journey when one party is avoiding it.

He’ll still be living in the smaller imperial palace while the court is in residence. Marclinus doesn’t let any of us too far offour leashes. We should get a chance to corner him and insist on a discussion in the next few days.

But looking at him, knowing how he spoke to Aurelia, I have trouble believing a single talk is going to fix everything. And it might not come in time.

This journey’s greatest trial to his patience is upon us right now.

As I meander toward the line of carriages more slowly than I need to, I watch Neven’s progress. The moment he glances in my direction, I jerk my hand at my side for his attention and form a hasty signed message.We’re together. Stay strong.

Neven simply frowns and looks away without a response.

Raul and Bastien have been assigned to different carriages, but when we exchange glances, I can tell they’ve followed the exchange. Bastien’s expression has turned solemn but determined. Raul grimaces and tips his head as if to acknowledge my effort.

Weareall together, keeping an eye on him. I just don’t know if it’ll be enough.

As the carriage rattles across the cobblestone streets toward the square our emperor picked for the pledging ceremony, the memory of Pavel’s death repeats in my head. The thud of his footsteps onto the execution platform. The hiss of the axe swing.

Could I have saved him from his awful end if I’d paid more attention to his moods rather than getting caught up in my own? Was there anything that could have stopped him from hurling a blast of fiery magic at Emperor Tarquin?

How can we make sure his little brother doesn’t meet the same dire fate?

We disembark in the huge city square with an ominous thunder of boots against marble tiles. Everything in the capital city of Andov seems to be stone—the roads, the buildings liningthe square, the fountain with its towering statue of Creaden poised in the center.

It’s not surprising, given the mountain range that looms in the distance, which stretches across the entire eastern half of the country. Goric has a reputation for fine stonework. But the hard gray surfaces all around me send a chill over my skin even though we’ve left the northern territories far behind.

While the crowd swarms as close to the ceremony platform as the soldiers will allow, I stand with the Darium court. Raul slips over to the Gorician side briefly, but when he tries to sidle up to our younger foster brother, Neven pushes him away.

Raul’s jaw sets, but he can hardly pick a fight in front of the entire city. He ambles back to our side, his stride casual but his shoulders tensed.

There aren’t any surprises to the actual pledges of loyalty after seeing them so many times before. All of Neven’s family kneels before Marclinus—Linus, I assume—and Aurelia, committing to serve him and the child in her now prominent belly while translators echo their words to the commoners who won’t have much grasp of Darium.

When the pledging is finished, Linus gazes out over the crowd with a smirk that sets all my nerves jangling. “Good people of Goric, I would like to give all of you a chance to prove how devoted your country is to the empire!” He nods to the fountain in their midst. “As you once honored Creaden, why should you not also honor your emperor?”

I catch puzzled expressions in the crowd as they stir, waiting for him to explain.

Marclinus lifts his head higher. “I hear that when people first settled on these lands many centuries ago, they built their homes with wood. But a horrible fire swept in just before winter and burned away their settlements and the nearby forests. As they despaired, Creaden came among them and reminded theirmayor that a true leader stops at nothing for his people. They had the means to build shelters in the materials of their history.”

He sweeps his hand toward an immense stone arch to the right of the square. “Beyond those gates lies your city’s largest cemetery. Let me see what you can build for our future from the bones of your past! I expect a house I can stand up in the middle of without touching the walls, solidly enough constructed that a lit candle will not waver inside it. If the building skills of Goricians haven’t been exaggerated, that should be no trouble.”

My gut lurches with a surge of nausea. He’s asking them to dowhat?

I have a vague memory of that fable of Creaden, of the first Goricians creating homes out of bone to outlast the winter before they could make the trek to the mountains for stone. Who knows if that was even true rather than a metaphorical tale? And even if it was, for Marclinus to expect these people to disturb their dead just to stoke his ego…

I swallow thickly. It’s horrible, but it’s not actually unbelievable, given everything else he’s done.

All the same, I spot a few lips curled in distaste among the Darium nobles around me—more of an adverse reaction than they’ve showed to his previous challenges. They might think themselves better than any Gorician, but the gruesome nature of Linus’s demand unsettles them.

It’d be easier to take that as a victory if not for the people who still have to carry out the demand.

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