Page 41 of A Dance of Shadows

His mention of his gift has caught my attention. I tap his shirt over the spot where his godlen brand is burned into his chest—Sabrelle’s sigil, showing his dedication to conquering. “You haven’t told me what your gift is. It sounds like it must be a potent one.”

Marc gives a dry chuckle. “As potent as I could request without a more significant sacrifice than seemed wise. I gave afew back teeth—they’ve been replaced with close replicas so you can’t tell.”

So Linus must have given the same. How did Tarquin arrange their matching sacrifices? Did they risk a private dedication—or did one of the overseeing clerics meet an unfortunate end immediately after?

Restraining a cringe at the thought, I match Marc’s droll tone. “What did Sabrelle grant you for them that would help you win a war?”

Marc pauses, and for a few seconds I think he’s going to refuse to tell me again. His gaze slides away from me to the landscape passing beyond the window. “I can see the weakest spot—of a person, a squadron, a building. On a limited scale, and without any knowledge of how to take advantage of that weakness, but with training, it isn’t hard to strategize. And if I apply it to multiple defensive positions along the channel, I should be able to compare and determine which would be easiest to penetrate.”

A frigid pool congeals in my stomach. However limited it might be, that gift would be quite a useful power for conquering. I wonder what it tells him about me.

Now that I’ve got him talking, I have to see what else I can get out of him.

I lower my voice. Sitting next to Marc, I can easily speak without our guards overhearing. “Is your brother’s gift similar? That would make it rather hard to be on guard against his worst inclinations.”

A shadow crosses my husband’s face. “His is more erratic… but not necessarily less effective. The vulnerabilities I can sense are more of the physical or logistical variety. Linus can get glimpses of a person’s fears. All the better for him to manipulate them into following his whims.”

Or harass them for his own sadistic pleasure. My pulse stutters. How many times has he used that power with me?

I conceal the jitter of panic and give Marc’s forearm an affectionate caress. “Yours will no doubt prove most useful for the glory of the empire. Your strategy sounds quite brilliant to me. I expect I have much to learn from you in matters of warfare, but I can see that patience and an even temper can take you far. We’re well-matched in that.”

Unlike his reckless, chaotic twin.

Let Marc see the two of us as a united front, one that Linus threatens. One he should be willing to defend.

“Indeed.” Marc’s gaze comes back to me with a brightening of his eyes. He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine. As much as this is a ploy, it’s hard not to notice how much more pleasant his measured grasp is compared to his twin’s often bruising grip. “I look forward to discovering how far we can take the empire together. Ambition is more enjoyable when pursued with company.”

As he used to with his father… and with Linus, some time ago? “I suppose you’ve always had that from your family.”

“Yes. But one can’t always count on family to see the same approach as… constructive, as you well know.”

I stroke my thumb across the back of his hand. “I can see how that will have been frustrating.”

“Yes, well…” Marc holds my gaze. “I have proposed one potential solution tothatproblem, when you’re willing to work together there.”

He’s still looking to draw me into the murder scheme. I haven’t earned enough loyalty yet for him to want to protect me from the potential dangers instead.

That kind of devotion won’t come quickly. But I can tug at his heart as well as warm it with praise.

I lower my eyes. “Do you have any impression of what he’s planning for Cotea? I got the sense that he means to put some test to all of the countries… and perhaps now to me as well.”

Marc’s grip on my hand tightens slightly. “I’ve tried to reason with him, but he’s set on the course he’s planned. He got rather angry with me when I suggested it might be overly grandiose for us to be catered to as the gods were. And when I told him I didn’t want our heir put at risk. He says it’ll only be a worthy heir if its mother can ‘see through her principles,’ but he didn’t say what exactly that means to him.”

I let out a purposefully nervous laugh. “I don’t suppose you could simply… lock him in the supply carriage until we’re finished in Cotea.”

“I hate to think what he might do if I tried.” Marc’s expression hardens. “If he thinks he has no choice but to expose our secret… The court already prefers his sociable ways and garish entertainments. I don’t know that I’d win a battle of opinion for the throne.”

Having seen Linus’s fervor, I can believe it’d come down to a battle rather than an agreement to openly share the role, especially if he feels his twin tried to take over first.

I straighten my posture with the fortitude Marc has admired in the past. “I’ll simply have to prove I can stick to my principles then—in all ways. If I meet his demands and prove whatever it is he’s looking for in me, maybe he’ll listen to my appeal for moderation.”

Marc’s snort echoes my own disbelief in that assertion. “More likely he’ll see how much farther he can push you. That’s his idea of entertainment.”

I rest my other hand over our twined fingers. “Then I’ll take strength in the knowledge that whatever he asks of me, before long I’ll be byyourside again.”

A different sort of light flares in Marc’s eyes, one that sends an unexpected thrill through my chest. He lifts my knuckles to his lips. “So you will.”

I can’t let one minor triumph distract me from my larger goals. “Has anything tended to work in the past to bring him out of one of his particularly aggressive moods?”

---