Page 127 of A Dance of Shadows

A couple of the soldiers lean down to offer their arms and lift me—with impressive care—out of the hole. A swarm of nobles and city folk stand around the graveyard plot, watching me as if they expected me to emerge speaking in holy tongues.

Awe shines on even Queen Dafina’s and King Gligor’s faces. I think I may have won over one royal family just like that.

My sense of victory coils around my chest, bittersweet. How much good will it do me to have impressed them now when their son will be ranting against me?

Marclinus beckons me over with a pointed expression. “You’ve made it through your submersion rather unruffled, wife. Won’t you share what immense insights the experience gave you?”

Looking into his arrogant face, a sharper surge of fury lances through me. It takes all my control not to snatch the dagger I slipped from Neven’s sleeve out of my cloak’s inner pocket and attempt to plunge it into this wretch of a man’s chest like the young prince no doubt wanted to.

I’ve survived the ordeal and I might appear unruffled, but my nerves are frayed more than I like. The pressure of so many gazes gnaws at my skin.

I force a smile I suspect looks stiff despite my best efforts. “I had quite a vision, one that spoke of patience and understanding. We should all look to the future with open arms rather than hostility. But I’m not sure I fully understood every nuance. The vision wasn’t quite finished when you retrieved me. I’d like to visit the nearest temple of Elox or the All-Giver so I might meditate on the matter a little more.”

Most of the crowd murmurs eagerly at the vague remarks I’ve already given. Marclinus takes stock of their response and must decide that pitching me back into the coffin would benefit my status with the Goricians more than his own.

He slides his hand under my cloak so he can pinch my ass out of view before nudging me onward. “I won’t deny a divine calling. Off to the carriage with you, then. We’ll continue to revel until you return!”

Chapter Forty-Four

Aurelia

The tightness around my lungs doesn’t ease until I’ve left the square far behind. There’s something freeing about being alone in the carriage—so much more space than I had to myself just minutes ago, no expectant eyes following my every move. No soldiers to worry about except my personal guards, who’ve been with me and never tried to harm me since well before the coronation tour.

The only thing that would make this moment better is if I had my princes here to wrap me up in their embraces. But the memory of Lorenzo’s supportive voice, Bastien’s airy touch, and Raul’s concerned monitoring warms me all the same.

It’d be nice if I could come back to them with more insight than I had when I left, but whatever Elox tells me, at least I’ll return refreshed and ready to put on the face of an empress again.

“There’s a temple of Elox on the far edge of the city, Your Imperial Highness,” the driver calls back to me in accentedDarium. “Andov’s temple of the All-Giver is much closer, but I’ll take you wherever you want.”

Every temple dedicated to the All-Giver also honors all nine of the lesser gods our Great God created. I can address my godlen there just as well as at a temple solely for his purposes.

I lean my head toward the window. “The closer one will do, thank you.”

We travel along a few market streets, the storefronts and eateries either closed or quiet with so many of the city’s inhabitants in the square to see their emperor. The Gorician style is to leave their stonework unadorned by artificial color. The buildings are all varying shades of gray with different levels of polish, distinguished mainly by the words and images carved into the blocks and tiles.

No wildfire will ever level the city built here now. Perhaps that fable—and whatever real historical events inspired it—prompted their dedication to using the materials of their mountains.

Their temple of the All-Giver shows the same architectural style. The broad, bulky stone building that reminds me of a military fortress looms at the edge of a small square. But when I step through the doorway, I find a comfortingly familiar interior.

The front hallway leads to a large worship room with a domed ceiling that was hidden behind the exterior parapets. Marble statues of the nine godlen stand around the curving walls, their alcoves draped with silk in their associated colors and matching cushions laid on the floor before them. The Great God is represented by the multi-faceted light that streams down from the peak of the dome over everything below.

I cast my gaze over all the statues, lingering for a moment on Creaden’s stately figure. What does the godlen of leadership and construction make of Linus’s demand in his name?

Has he even noticed, or was his attention drawn by all the other mortals who might have been calling on him at that moment? Our lesser gods might not have abandoned us, but they each have a lot of dedicats to attend to.

The marble representation of Elox stands in a humble pose, one hand resting on a willow-branch walking stick and the other turned so a dove can perch on it. A recent petitioner has left sprigs of lavender at his bare feet.

As I walk over to him, my personal guards wait by the entrance, respectful enough not to intrude on my worship. Not that it matters greatly when I’m going to talk to my godlen only inside my head.

I kneel on the cushion and level out my breathing as I did in the coffin. Flickers of the suffocating sense of being buried ripple through my thoughts. I have to center myself again, digging deep into the peaceful sanctuary I’ve cultivated inside me.

Elox, please, staying my hand can’t be your only message. We both know that sometimes violence must be done to ensure that greater bloodshed doesn’t follow. You’ve seen how my husband behaves. Surely you wouldn’t want him acting as emperor any longer than necessary?

I close my eyes for a time and then lift my face toward the light that touches the statue. In the wavering beams, an image forms. A hand with a knife halts in mid-swing again.

But this time it resumes its movement. Slowly and steadily, it slices through the darkness as if the shadows are a layer of draped silk. The pieces flutter aside to reveal?—

Nothing. I’m only looking at the statue, calmly gazing down at me.

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