Page 92 of A Dance of Shadows

Why would anyone not want to shower our glorious emperor with gifts at their own expense?

Aurelia sidles over beside him to play the adoring wife for yet another evening. At the thought of what that act has cost her already, my fingernails dig into my palms.

Linus waggles the liquor bottles in the air and smirks at the members of the court closest by. “I’ve scored some of Lavira’s finest vintage! But I may be willing to share a little. I’ll just have to decide who’s most worthy.”

His gaze skims over the gathered nobles—and lands on me.

Linus’s smirk grows. “Prince Raul! You haven’t made use of your gift in a while. Have a search around and let me know if there’s anyone here keeping secrets that make themundeserving of one of these delightful beverages.”

From several paces away, Mother’s gaze flicks toward me. I harden my stance against the flare of shame that burns through my chest.

But it doesn’t matter that I didn’t outright lose my temper in front of her. I still look like the emperor’s dancing bear.

Because in essence, that’s all I am. All anyone except my foster brothers and Aurelia is aware of, anyway.

I force myself to extend my senses through the shadows that lie across the court nobles’ clothes and within their pockets.

Kosmel, let me find one target to offer up quickly. Let one be enough.

The shadows hug a glass surface in one waistcoat pocket. Delving into the darkness within the vessel brings an acrid tang echoing across my tongue.

Not much, but it’s something.

I offer a lively tone. “I don’t think Baron Rastico requires any additional lubrication. He’s carrying around his own stashof creekvine wine—not bothering to share with the rest of us, either.”

As Linus tsks his tongue chidingly and grins at my performance, I drift to the fringes of the crowd where I’m less likely to catch his attention again.

In a few days, we’ll be back on the road, and I can leave all that niggles at me about my childhood far behind once more. After all, I have bigger troubles to tackle.

And today I may have maneuvered my empress one step closer to claiming the empire she deserves.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Aurelia

The first time the baby kicks, the carriage has just jostled on the road. I think I imagined the faint prodding inside me until it comes again. While the vehicle rolls on smoothly beneath us, a soft jab prods my bladder.

My breath catches with a rush of awe. As I touch my rounded belly, Marc’s eyes jerk to me from the opposite seat.

The thoughtful expression that relaxed his features as he gazed out the window falls away, worry flashing in his eyes. “Are you all right? Do we need to call for a stop?”

I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that intense concern from the man who just months ago happily threw knives and shot arrows at me. But the moment is giddying enough that I smile without needing to feign my joy. “The baby moved.”

A matching awe dawns on my husband’s face. He shifts forward and then tenses as if he’s afraid of encroaching on me. Another reaction it’s hard to wrap my head around.

“Would I be able to feel it?” he asks.

No further motion has followed the first two gentle jabs. I run my hand across my belly over the new silk dress designed to accommodate its continued growth, and my smile turns apologetic. “I think she’s settled down again. And it wasn’t strong enough to carry right through to the surface anyway.”

I don’t understand why Marc’s stare turns even more intense until he says, “She?”

I open my mouth and hesitate, weighing the impressions inside me. I said it without thinking, but… yes. A part of me feels that I’m carrying a daughter the same way the meaning of the visions Elox sends me sometimes seems so clear.

Marc probably wouldn’t accept that vague an explanation though, so I temper my answer. “Just a feeling I have. There’s no way to be sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward. “I’m learning to trust your feelings to be accurate more often than not. She. I suppose before much longer, we’ll need to be considering names.”

I balk at the suggestion with the instinctive defiance that she’smineto name, and Bastien’s, and certainly at least two other men’s opinions matter more to me than the one sitting across from me. I obviously can’t admit any of that.

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