Page 48 of A Dance of Shadows

Father leads the way, striding forward without a hint of concern, full of faith in his people. Mother flanks him, with Rolland and his wife right behind them, holding their children’s hands. I follow at the back, unable to stop myself from scanning the flowers as I go.

The irises brush against my trousers, but not a single hiss reaches our ears. We reach the far end of the field, loop around, and promenade back.

By the fallen civilians, Father pauses to offer a short but emphatic bow of gratitude.

At our return, Marclinus applauds with an expression that looks more mocking than pleased. The rest of the court follows his example.

The emperor’s gaze slides to Aurelia, and my heart lurches. He told her he was going to test her too, didn’t he? She didn’t insert herself into the challenge anywhere near as blatantly as she did in Rione…

“Very good,” Marclinus says in a jovial tone, and sets a possessive hand on Aurelia’s shoulder. “To show the empire’s devotion to all its countries in turn, my wife will now honor her patron godlen and her gift by concocting a cure for banded asp venom. It’s too late for the recent fallen, so your royal family will prove the loyalty they pledged by accepting a bite, and she’ll prove our gratitude by curing them. Devotion all around!”

I blink at him with a wobble of nausea. He’s going to poison all of us?

As if sensing my stare, our emperor swings toward us. He points at me. “I’d imagine she’ll need a little local expertise on this quest. Prince Bastien, my loyal foster brother, you will help her ferret out whatever ingredients she needs.”

My mouth opens, but it takes me a second before I can speak. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”

What else can I say?

My father’s low voice reaches my ears from behind me. “Have you caught his attention, Bastien? You’ve always seemed most comfortable in the background… I hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.”

Chapter Eighteen

Aurelia

Concocting a cure for banded asp venom.Linus’s declaration echoes in my ears. My gaze snags on the little princess and prince tucked close to their parents in the cluster of Cotean royals.

Surely my husband isn’t going to have even the children bitten by those snakes? Consign them to the same torturous fate two of their people have already suffered?

CanI even concoct an antidote?

What will become of Bastien and his family if I can’t?

That last question sets my heart thudding twice as fast. It was agonizing enough watching two of the commoners crumple without having anything I could offer them. There’s a part of me that wants to scream and wail against the insanity of this demand.

But what good will it do the Cotean royal family if I break down in front of them? What good will it do anyone in their kingdom?

Linus will get what he wants one way or another. I don’t have enough strength behind me yet to openly challenge him.

The best thing I can do is show the strength I do have. Act as if this isn’t a punishment but a challenge I embrace in my determination to serveallthe empire’s people, not just those of Dariu.

Let’s see how far I can spin his insanity in my favor.

My conviction stiffens my spine. I force a smile onto my face and address both my husband and our spectators. “What a brilliant idea. It would be my honor to show all of Cotea that we imperials can support them as much as they do us. Let me see what my gift can tell me.”

I let my focus sink deeper into my mind, picturing the snakes I watched Bastien and the city folk carrying out of the field of irises. Imagining one of the green-and-purple banded asps sinking its fangs into Bastien’s arm.

Through the panic that quivers through my mind at the thought, I aim my gift at the problem. If he were poisoned with that venom, what could I give him as an antidote?

It’s possible no answer at all will emerge before my mind’s eye. That I’ll get only the dark blankness that tells me curing this ailment is beyond my gift.

I can’t fathom what Linus would do if I have to tell him that.

But the images start to form, punctuated with my rush of relief. A chunk of sylvere bark, a little ipio powder, a sliver of garlic—I have all that in my trunk back at the palace. The brewing should only take an hour. Too late for the two civilians whose breaths have nearly stopped, as Linus said, but soon enough to savesomeone.

Unfortunately, there’s another ingredient my gift shows me tossing into the cauldron: a heap of small white petals I don’t recognize.

Frowning, I prod that part of the gift-given imagery. The petals whirl and assemble themselves around a tiny yellow center, blossoms in a sprig on a thin stem with curving, grass-like leaves.

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