Page 13 of A Dance of Shadows

Bianca’s eyebrows twitch upward before she catches her reaction. “Oh. Well—thank you all the more, in that case. I wouldn’t have expected…”

As she trails off, I touch her arm in an attempt at reassurance. “We’ve had our differences and our conflicts, but you’ve proven that we can set that behind us. I’d like to consider you one of my friends as well.”

If one I’ll be watchingveryclosely.

Bianca brightens more thanIwould have expected when as far as I know, she only sees me as a means to an end. Is it feigned happiness to further win me over, or does my opinion actually matter to her beyond the favors I might offer as empress?

“It’s my honor to call you such,” she says with a respectful bob.

Before we can talk more, the music falls into a lull between songs, and Marclinus appears in front of me. He doesn’t even glance at his often-time lover, his gaze totally fixed on me.

He motions to the puff I’ve only eaten half of. “Finish that up. I need another dance with my wife.”

So much for that strategy of avoidance.

I pop the last tidbit into my mouth and follow him, stepping into the circle of his arms.

My husband’s interest isn’t totally unwelcome this once. It seems late enough in the night now that I might be able to speed matters along to suit my own ends rather than his.

As we dance, I stroke my thumb along the side of his neck. When he turns me, I trail my hand across his chest.

Heat flares in Marclinus’s eyes. It has a possessive glint to it that I’m not fond of, but I can tolerate it for now.

After one more dance, he slides his arm right around my waist. “What do you say we enjoy your bed one more time before we’re reduced to waystations, wife?”

I lower my eyelids coyly. “I can think of nothing I’d like better.”

In my bedroom, I waste no time releasing the hidden needle in my ring and tapping it against my husband’s neck while he kisses me as if he means to mash my lips right off my face. I giggle and simper through his fondling and his eager stripping of my gown.

When the drug sinks in and he lies back on the bed in its hallucinogenic stupor, I peel off my undergarments so he has all the visuals he needs for this imagined encounter. I coo a few encouraging words until he reaches his release on his own and drifts into total unconsciousness.

After I’ve cleaned him up, I go to my trunk where I keep my brewing supplies. I had a chance to prepare one very simple formula to use when the opportunity arose.

The steeped laelia petals create a ruddy liquid that turns pinkish on the skin. It blends into a person’s coloring to look as if it’s a natural flush. And it’s a permanent stain unless you have the right counter-solution to wash it away.

I’ve heard some courtesans use it to darken their eyelids, cheeks, and lips without having to worry about the effect being smudged during their work. My intention is much simpler.

Back at the bed, I tip Marclinus’s head to one side on the pillow. With the corner of a sponge, I dab a small spot of the dye right on the crease at the back of his left ear.

The darker pink splotch looks like only a random variation of his skin. It’s hidden enough that I doubt anyone will notice it in the first place, and if anyone does, they wouldn’t imagine it’s purposeful.

Certainly he’ll never see it in any mirror.

I clean up the supplies, dose the lantern, and tuck myself into the bed to wait out the sputter of his snores. It won’t be long before I can confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt whether the man beside me and the one Raul has sensed tucked away in the emperor’s apartment are two identical sides of the same coin.

Whether the greatest threat to my life and everything I care about has doubled in size.

Chapter Six

Aurelia

I’d enjoy my lunch with Lorenzo more if my stomach wasn’t listing around from our hours on the road toward Rione. And if we could talk properly rather than only by the means I’m supposed to know he can communicate.

The prince tips his dark head toward my plate, where I’ve moved around the meal the waystation staff prepared more than eaten it. He makes a surreptitious gesture with his free hand while the other continues moving his pencil across the paper he’s been writing on.Not hungry?

I sigh and keep my tone light as if I’m making a random observation. “The bumps and dips of the road can be a little hard on the stomach, can’t they?”

Lorenzo grimaces, his gaze flicking to my belly for just an instant. At the same time, he finishes the list he was scrawling and slides the paper over to me.

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