Page 120 of A Dance of Shadows

Marc’s expression softens with that hint of affection I’m still getting used to—and still not totally sure whether to trust. He leans toward the window. “The waystation is just up ahead. We sent word—the local workers will already be getting our lunch prepared.”

His gaze slides from the road to the mountainside looming just beyond it. “I can’t imagine how anyone lives all the way out here.”

“We wouldn’t have all the materials we need if not for the mining communities,” I remark. “And I suppose there are some people who simply like the challenge of braving harsher environments.”

There’s also the benefit of the isolation removing those communities from most of the empire’s attention, but I’d rather not highlight that advantage.

When the carriages draw to a stop by the waystation near a small cluster of homes, Marc slips out first so he can help me down. The frigid wind that warbles down the nearby slopes licks beneath my cloak. I roll my shoulders and shake the travel aches from my legs and hips, sticking close to the side of the carriage.

The imperial soldiers that surround our convoy feel even less like devoted protectors than they did when we set out on this journey. No one who questioned Gallum discovered anything about attempts on my life. Linus finally ordered him sent back to Lavira to face Tribune Valerisse for final judgment and punishment.

He’s no longer a concern, but I have no idea whether he was alone in his sentiments. I still can’t be sure Linus himself didn’t put the soldier up to his crimes.

At least I can take comfort that Marc’s records didn’t reveal any other gifts that sounded particularly dangerous among our escort.

A white-blond head pushing past a carriage door catches my attention. Neven plants himself on the side of the road, his mouth set in a scowl and his eyes stormier than I’ve ever seen them. His gaze flicks to the musicians chattering by their carriage several beyond his, and his scowl deepens.

I haven’t seen him with his harpist boyfriend since shortly after we left Costel. During the past few dinners, it’s looked as if the other man was keeping the prince of Goric at a wary distance.

Did they end their relationship? If tensions between them were building before the breakup, that could account for a lot of the youngest prince’s recent irritability.

I told him I could be a sort of older sister to him. If I’m going to act on that offer, this seems like an ideal time.

With one more stretch of my limbs, I turn to Marc. “I haven’t heard a great deal about Goric so far. I think I’ll take this luncheon with Prince Neven, if you don’t object, and see what insights he might be able to share.”

My husband considers the teenaged prince with his own wariness. “He’s seemed to be in a bit of a mood lately. Watch that he doesn’t aim any of his temper at you.”

“I’m sure he’ll be perfectly respectful to his empress.”

I’m not actually sure of that at all, but I can’t say I blame Neven for being ill-tempered. Not only has he apparently lost the man he spent months longing for, he’s also about to find out how his emperor plans to torment his home country after witnessing what all the rest of us conquered royals have been put through.

Many of the nobles have already returned to their carriages after a brief stretch of their legs, seeking shelter from the cold mountain air. Neven stalks a little farther away from his vehicle, his strides stiff. As I amble over to join him, I tamp down my apprehension as well as I can.

Elox give me patience and all the compassion he needs.

When he notices my approach, I speak before he can, in the sort of soft sisterly tone Soreena has used with me in the past. “Hey. How are you getting on? I noticed things appear to have soured between you and your musician.”

Neven’s face only darkens, a ruddy cast coming over his tan skin. “I’m sure Bastien is happy about that. Probably the others too.”

The accusing look he gives me suggests he thinks I might be one of those “others.”

I keep my voice gentle. “I don’t think he wants to see you upset. He was concerned about your well-being, like any older brother would be.”

“Well, he’s not actually my brother,” Neven mutters, kicking at a stray pebble.

“And I’m not actually your sister,” I acknowledge, “but I think the sort-of family we’ve made has gotten us through a lot. If you want to talk about it—or anything else you reasonably can—I wanted you to know I’m still here. I can understand you might be worried about quite a few things.”

The prince’s shoulders tense even more. “He didn’t like it. Said I was getting too intense and angry about everything. Why shouldn’t I be angry? So many things are so fucked up…”

My brow knits. “Bastien said that?”

“No, Calvus.” Neven jerks his head toward the musicians, who are just clambering back into their carriage. “I wasn’t enough ‘fun’ anymore.”

Oh. Then Neven’s dark moods were the cause of his fractured relationship rather than the result of it.

How badly is he stressing about the tests Marclinus has been inflicting on each country—and what the emperor might have in store for Goric?

I grope for the right words. “I’m sorry. He obviously has a lot less to be concerned about than you do. But we’ll get through whatever’s coming as we have what’s come before. I’ll intercede as much as I can, and?—”

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