Page 44 of A Dance of Shadows

At the edge of my vision, Bastien’s posture stiffens. He recovers quickly, but when I dart a glance his way, his face has turned even paler than usual.

He continues on his meandering stroll past me and onward through the crowd. Once he’s well away from me, he picks up his pace, striding toward his family’s residence.

My stomach knots. It looked as if he had a pretty good idea what I meant—and as if he didn’t like that idea at all. What new horror has my husband concocted?

The worry lingers in my head as I’m swept into the palace, as my maids prep and polish me, as I return for a new procession down to the central square where the pledging of loyalty will take place. My gaze slides over every landmark we pass, searching for any connections to fables I’m familiar with.

A large fountain stands in the middle of the square, but its statue is of the long-ago emperor who first conquered Cotea’s capital, standing tall and stately while water burbles around his feet. How wonderful for the citizens of Delphine to have the daily reminder of their tyrants.

We arrange ourselves on the recently erected platform with Linus standing front and center. The Cotean royal family arrives: Bastien’s parents, King Stanislas and Queen Odile, as well as his older brother, the brother’s wife, and their two children.

As I watch the tiny prince swish his mother’s skirt, my throat tightens up. In just a few years, if I can’t oust my husband and set things right, they’ll have to ship that boy off to the imperial palace in Bastien’s place.

Great God help me, I can’t even conceive of what that would be like for a child of seven. It was terrifying enough venturing into the center of Dariu as a woman of twenty-one.

Bastien’s family isn’t quite as abundant in cousins as Lorenzo’s, but I’m able to recognize the few key figures he mentioned to me based on his descriptions. Several courtiers hover close to the royal family. I’ve gathered there’s a lot of in-fighting among the nobles to receive commendations from the king. They dress less ornately than the Darium court, their gowns and jackets simple but elegant.

Civilians fill the square around the platform, craning their necks for the best possible view. A local cleric announces the pledging ceremony in both the Darium and Cotean tongues and then beckons to the royal family.

King Stanislas steps forward first, his sallow face lined at the corners of his eyes and mouth but his expression firm. He bows before Linus, declaring his commitment to serving the emperor and the needs of the empire, and then bows to me as well—or rather to my belly, which has started to visibly swell beneath my dress with my growing child. “And I shall serve your heir equally well when he or she arrives.”

As he straightens up, I try to offer warmth in my careful smile and convey sympathy in my gaze. But the king barely glances at me before he’s turning away.

They all come—the queen with her ruddy hair tumbling loose around her light brown face and then their heirs, and the heirs to the heirs. Bastien’s niece, who he told me is eight, stumbles once in the formal wording and immediately flushes scarlet.

“It’s all right,” I reassure her. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

Linus clicks his tongue. “She’s a child, not an imbecile—at least, I hope not, for Cotea’s sake. Let’s have it again, properly this time.”

The little princess’s blush darkens even more, but she repeats her speech without faltering this time. When I dare a look Bastien’s way, his mouth has flattened, but he flicks his hand to say he’s all right.

All right and wishing he could strangle the man beside me, no doubt.

The four-year-old boy, at least, is allowed a truncated version of the allegiance vow. He declares it with a gusto that gives me a little more hope about his resilience in whatever fate may lie ahead of him.

When the ceremony is complete, Linus steps to the front of the platform as he did before. My heart stutters, and I catch a brief twitch of a frown on Counsel Etta’s face not far away.

If she was considering attempting to intervene, Linus speaks before she can.

“Good people of Cotea!” my husband calls out alongside the cleric’s translation. “Your welcome has been as warm as your fields. I’d like us to celebrate my arrival in one more way today. All of you can show how much you honor the empire. Let us gather now at the Temple of Hidden Truths!”

The people whoop, with no idea what sort of “honor” he expects of them. As the soldiers stationed along the edges of the square start to direct them toward the right road, Linus marches to our waiting carriage.

I follow close at his heels, dredging up any facts I can summon about the temple he mentioned. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of it before. Based on the name and his earlier remark, I’m guessing it’s dedicated to Estera.

What could he expect the city folk to do there?

“You have a more elaborate scheme this time,” I comment to him as the carriage lurches forward.

Linus shrugs with a sly grin. “I couldn’t ignore the perfect setting.”

The perfect setting for what?

We draw around the square and out to the northwestern edge of the city. The stately temple stands perhaps a mile beyond the last of the city’s buildings, just over the crest of one of the hills.

As we reach the peak and look down on it, a vise clamps around my lungs.

A patch of bright green forest shades a field perhaps a quarter of a mile wide, stretching between the trees and the temple building. Purple flowers dot every inch of the field.

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