Page 124 of A Dance of Shadows

She looks at Marclinus. “He’s alive, only unconscious. We’d best have him brought to the palace medics so he’s ready for whatever additional punishment you have in mind.”

I could almost laugh despite my horror at the situation. She’s truly incredible, making it sound as if it’s in Marclinus’s own selfish interests to keep the prince alive.

I hope his parents understand the importance of what she just did. Without those words, I wouldn’t have put it past Marclinus to order Neven’s immediate execution regardless of the rest.

He still might. The emperor cocks his head in consideration and then grins. “Right you are, wife.” He snaps his fingers at the soldiers to gather up Neven’s slack body and carry it away.

My next breath spills out of me in a rush. I wish Neven hadn’t given in to his anger at all, but we managed to avert the worst catastrophe.

For him, at least. My gaze darts back to the rest of the Gorician royal family.

Queen Dafina speaks up in a strained voice. “I’m grateful for our emperor’s mercy. Let us honor His Imperial Majesty by granting his one request.”

When the city folk continue to hesitate, Marclinus makes a brisk gesture. Several soldiers close in around the queen, king,and crown princess. None draw their swords, but the ominous implications are clear.

If the citizens’ loyalty to their emperor isn’t strong enough, it’s their royal family who’ll take the blame.

The first few civilians push open the cemetery gates. More soldiers—the Darium forces who were already stationed here—prod the crowd onward.

There might have been more commotion if the city folk hadn’t just seen a demonstration of how brutal those soldiers can be. As it is, several dozen more commoners hustle into the graveyard to start digging.

I have no idea if Neven realized this, but the beating he took might have saved the lives of more than one of his people.

Another group of soldiers is clearing an area of the square between the cemetery wall and our platform so the macabre building can be constructed under Marclinus’s watchful eyes. A few city folk are already hurrying over with dirt from the graveyard to pack against the stone tiles in a smooth foundation.

Even if their lives have been spared, it’s a vile task that’s being asked of these people. I don’t feel right simply standing here like I’ve had to through so much else.

I can’t offer a lot, but if I can ease the horror of the situation at least a little, that’s worth something.

I sign a hasty message to Raul. He grimaces but steps closer to Marclinus with a brash air. “Your Imperial Majesty, why shouldn’t our prince of Rione add to the grandeur of the event with a few songs? I think he brought his lyre in his carriage.”

Marclinus chuckles. “What an inspired idea! Let’s get Prince Lorenzo his instrument so he can give us all a worthy performance.”

One of the pages hovering in the background dashes off and returns with my lyre. I move to the corner of the stage closest to the cemetery and bring my hand to the strings.

Alongside the tune that spills from my fingers, I extend my gift over the square and the graveyard beyond. It adds a divine resonance to the melody, sweetening every note.

For Marclinus’s approval, I use the base of one of the imperial celebratory marches, an ode to victory. But here and there, more and more as I settle into the song, I adjust the melody to incorporate a funerary air.

We might be honoring the emperor, but we can honor the dead and the sacrifice being made at the same time.

As I play on, I think I see a little more vigor in the city folk who are constructing their house of bones. The royal family has joined the effort, cradling the remains of those long deceased as they carry them through the gate without concern for the dirt smearing their fine clothes.

The lumpy, yellow-white walls rise higher. Some of the civilians press more soil into the gaps between the bones to increase their chances of meeting Marclinus’s final condition. Crates and stepladders come out so they can construct the sloping roof.

I play on, even as an ache starts to spear through my skull and weariness shivers through my bones. I feel as if I’m bearing witness as much as honoring the task, and both acts feel equally important.

Finally, the structure stands in its grisly glory in the cleared part of the square. Marclinus strides over, takes a candle from a footman, and pulls the door on its makeshift hinges closed behind him.

I let my instrument fall silent. The crowd seems to hold their collective breaths.

We don’t actually know what punishment the emperor will inflict on the people of Goric if he judges that they failed.

When I glance over at my other foster brothers, Bastien’s face is set with concentration. Anyone else might think he’s simply tense over the test’s outcome, but my heart lifts.

He’ll be using his gift—carefully, to avoid Marclinus’s guards, but a man who can blow in rain clouds from a hundred miles away can hold the air around a city square still for a few minutes.

Marclinus emerges grinning and holding his lit candle aloft. “Very good, people of Goric! You do our empire proud!”

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