Page 109 of A Dance of Shadows

Dosing him with the calming mineral wouldn’t be a solution. It’d barely be a half-measure. And if I was caught at it, I doubt Linus would blink before gutting me as a traitor.

A necklace is more discreet, if I could convince him to wear it. Though gods only know whether I’d like Linus’s soul when it’s “centered” any more than I do now.

I tuck the necklace back into its box. “Thank you. I’ll see what he thinks of it—it’s worth a try. Such an effect might very well be a gift to me even if it’s acting on him.”

I look up at my parents with a twist of my stomach. They’re worried about me. How could they not be after what they’ve seen of the fate they arranged?

But they did arrange it. They thought the sacrifice was worth it for the good I might do. Now I need them ready to help me bring about an even better future than we dared to dream of nearly a year ago.

“Even if he doesn’t want to wear it,” I add, “I’m… managing. I’ve had to adjust my plans, but thingswillget better for Accasy—and all the rest of the empire.Muchbetter. It’s only taking a little longer than I’d hoped.”

Mother’s mouth ticks as if she’s restrained a frown. She rests her hand on the side of my shoulder. “You saw through the most important part. The most dangerous part. You don’t need to take any more risks. Guide him as well as you can, but if he’s resisting…”

Father picks up the thread in a steadier voice. “It’s clear that going against him may only bring his anger down on you and our people. We can survive as we are. We have to protect what we still have before we try for more.”

Are they really saying that we should just lie down and take whatever the emperor throws at us? That it isn’t worth fighting for something better?

I set the box on my desk to hide the clenching of my hands. “I haven’t been foolhardy, of course. But when I see a risk that could have an incredible reward, I intend to take it. Otherwise I won’t have accomplished anything at all.”

“Oh, but you already have, Aurelia,” Mother says. “And all the little differences you’ll continue to make, no matter how small, mean a lot. We must be patient.”

Frustration prickles under my skin. They’re acting like the nobleman in the caves who fretted about bending the theoretical rules of our test.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to lay out my plans for my parents in any specifics, but I assumed they’d appreciate a vague sense that I have the situation in hand, that I still have significant moves to make. Do they really think our people would prefer to continue living with the fear and hardships the empire imposes on them rather than gamble for a very real chance at happiness?

When did our king and queen become too afraid to believe they could offer more?

Were they always this cautious, and I simply never realized because caution seemed like the sensible option while I lived here? Because they helped me plan the one gamble that wasn’t really much of a gamble at all once we crafted every tool we needed to murder Tarquin discreetly?

Father said the idea came to him in a vision from Elox—his chosen godlen too. Maybe he’d never have dared anything even a fraction as bold without divine urging.

WouldIhave, if I hadn’t been thrust right into the middle of the fray?

With those uncomfortable questions buzzing in my head, the bell for the seventh hour rings through the walls. Father pulls his posture straighter. “We’d best get to your banquet. His Imperial Majesty has made it clear he expects promptness.”

Even that comment niggles at me as we move out into the hall.

My birthday banquet is being held in the dining room in the main palace, where both courts can gather comfortably if rather more cozily than they’re used to. I step into the familiar room—and my breath catches in my throat.

Between the usual chandeliers, glowing illusions light up the ceiling: frolicking lambs, soaring doves, waving willow boughs. All the symbols of the godlen I rely on so much.

I stop my gaze from darting around in search of Lorenzo. This can’t be his doing—he’d never show off his true gift so blatantly for a superficial purpose.

My husband must have given orders for one of the local illusionists to work their gift.

I inhale deeply, and a flood of savory, spicy scents fill my lungs. I can already make out the tang of forest apples and the kick of sorvinder pepper that go with two of my favorite dishes.

Dishes we’ve never eaten in Dariu other than the adaptations I arranged during my one dinner party that merged Darium and Accasian flavors.

The crowned figure at the head table—poised on one of the two throne-like chairs positioned in the middle to preside over the entire room—beckons me over with a smile that looks genuinely warm. I walk toward my husband in a bit of a daze.

It’s Marc, clearly. I should have known that just based on the fact he recognized my birthday at all.

It was weeks ago that I mentioned the date to him. Is this why I’ve barely seen him all day—because he was busy arranging a spectacle for me?

A flutter I don’t want to feel passes through my pulse.

He has his own reasons for wanting me happy. It isn’t all kindness.

---