Page 123 of A Dance of Shadows

Queen Dafina’s pale face has turned outright sallow. She looks out over her citizens, who are stirring and murmuring restlessly. No one yet has moved toward the cemetery gates.

Marclinus shouldn’t blame them for balking, but no doubt he will.

The queen opens her mouth—but her son pushes forward first.

Neven steps into view by the front of the platform, his hands balled into fists and his brown eyes flashing with fury. “No. That’s too much.”

My stomach plummets to my feet. Gods help us, he’s really doing this.

Marclinus eyes the young prince with an arch of his brow. “I think the only one who gets to decide what’s a reasonable request is your emperor. Or do you think your people are so faithless they’d fail in this simple test?”

Neven’s expression hardens even more. “I think you’re a pathetic excuse for an emperor who only cares about himself, not anyone you’re supposed to be ruling over. And I think you’re a coward who’s so scared of losing power you have to bully people into doing awful things.”

He hasn’t moved any closer to Marclinus, but he lifts his arms in front of his chest—and a metallic gleam catches my eye in the sleeve of his formal jacket.

He’s hidden a knife in his sleeve. Does he really think he can get past the guards fast enough to stab Marclinus?

Or has he spiraled so far into anger he doesn’t care what his chances are?

The emperor’s mouth pulls into a sneer. “Big words from a little boy. What would you know about ruling or power?”

Neven is only a few paces away from him, awfully close to Marclinus’s guards. But I can’t stand back and do nothing.

I pitch my gift toward my foster brother with as tight a focus as I can manage, praying that none of the guards sense my magic.

“Neven, don’t do it. Remember how you felt when you heard what happened to Pavel? That’ll be how all these people watching will feel if they have to see their last prince murdered. It’ll break their spirit, not help them. If you want them to stand up to him one day,youneed to keep standing too.”

Neven’s jaw works, the only sign that he might be processing what I said. The queen steps in to grip his shoulder. “Forgive my son. He was only startled, and?—”

Neven yanks away from her. “I know my people deserve a better emperor than you!” he snaps at Marclinus, and lunges.

My heart stops, but no blade flashes in his hand. He only snatches at Marclinus’s ceremonial jacket empty-handed, as if he means to hold the emperor there while he yells into his face.

Of course, he doesn’t accomplish even that much. His groping hand smacks into a barrier of magic more than a foot away from Marclinus’s form.

With a volley of yells, Marclinus’s personal guards and a couple of other nearby soldiers leap at the prince. One punches him in the nose. Another knocks his legs out from under them.

Neven thrashes about, but another wallop of magic freezes him in place. If he considered using his gift, he can’t now.

In a matter of seconds, the soldiers are battering him from all sides with feet and fists. His mother watches in a rigid stance, her lips pressed flat.

Marclinus gazes down at his young foster brother with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

He isn’t ordering the kid dead, but if he realizes Neven was concealing a weapon—if any of the soldiers discover it?—

My pulse stutters, and my gaze darts to the woman beside him.“Aurelia, Neven has a knife hidden in his left sleeve. If there’s any way you can intervene so the guards don’t find it…”

Aurelia’s expression firms, but she can hardly dive into the middle of the beating, especially in her current unwieldy state.

The guards deliver several more vicious blows. The last smacks Neven’s head into the platform’s boards hard enough that his eyelids flutter shut.

His attackers straighten up over the slumped, bleeding prince, looking to their emperor for additional orders.

“Does he still live?” Aurelia manages to make the question sound more like one of logistics than deep concern.

She darts forward as gracefully as she can manage and kneels next to Neven, taking his wrist. As she makes a show of checking his pulse, her cloak falls across his forearm. When she pulls back, her fingers curl at her side in a silent message.Done.

I relax just slightly. She’s removed the evidence that Neven hoped the confrontation might turn into an actual imperial assassination.

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