Page 154 of A Dance of Shadows

Bastien’s dark green eyes outright shine. “Do you know what you’re going to name her?”

Possibilities have drifted through my head for weeks, but nothing’s felt quite right. And it seemed like the men who’ll be her real fathers should have a say too.

But right now, with the three of them clustered around me in the darkness streaked with lantern light, I’m brought back to another perfect night a few months ago.

“I hadn’t made up my mind, but what do you think about Coraya?”

Bastien’s whole face brightens, and Raul lets out a chuckle.

Lorenzo beams at me.“That sounds perfect for our perfect baby, Rell.”

Why not honor the trees that have always been one of my favorite parts of my home country, the natural glow that shines on through the deepest night? The gift the three men I love gave me, because they understand me as no other person has… and likely ever will.

Just as no one else will likely know the full truth of our daughter’s heritage.

That thought brings me back to Marc and all the vicious truths I hurled at him. A wobble runs through my veins.

At the same moment, there’s a knock on the door. Jinalle’s voice carries through in my maid’s usual meek way. “Can I bring something in for you, Your Imperial Highness?”

The men’s stances stiffen. Bastien grazes his fingers over my hair with one last adoring smile at our daughter, and the princes vanish into the wall the way they came.

“Come in,” I call out, and yawn as a fresh wave of exhaustion rolls over me.

The two maids slip inside carrying a wooden cradle between them. They set it on the floor in the far corner, across from the bed.

“In case you decide you want the bed to yourself for a bit,” Eusette murmurs. “Sleep well, Your Imperial Highness.”

As quickly as they entered, they depart, and I’m left to contemplate the assassination of not one but two emperors.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Bastien

“Bring him water,” Raul mutters as we tramp down the staircase to the lowest room in the network of hidden passages. “Shepherdess or not, she’s still got a little lamb in her.”

“It’s not being a lamb,”Lorenzo retorts.“She has principles. Besides, if we do need something more from him, it wouldn’t help our cause to let him die of thirst.”

None of their comments sit easy in me. A vague sense of dread gnaws at the back of my mind.

What could we need from Marc? It was obvious he was sticking to his story that he’d turned against his twin after all. We can hardlyreleasehim after we’ve tied him up and threatened to kill him.

Aurelia’s quick mind has often worked a few steps ahead of our own, but in this particular case… I have to agree that her decision may be based more on sentiment than reason.

She never wanted to kill her husband. She kept us at a distance for months, staying committed to her marriage until he convinced her that there was no possibility of swaying him.

If she’s seen even a glimmer of hope that he’s not a total terror, will she be able to bring herself to do what’s necessary?

It may come down to us in the end, no matter what promises we made to her. The new version of the empire we mean to create is ours too.

But perhaps the sharpest teeth in that gnawing sensation come from the memory of Marc’s expression in the moments after her final confession. His acceptance of her “conquering,” his apparent regret that he hadn’t recognized her true strength.

He didn’t sound as if he was regretting it only because otherwise he’d have had the means to murderherinstead.

“He’s had almost the whole night to stew on the things she told him,” Raul says as we reach the panel. “We’ll see how mad he’s gone in the meantime. The easier he makes her choice, the better.”

He opens the door, steps out into the shadowed space—and stalls in his tracks. “Fuck.”

I scramble out after him and jerk to a halt myself, my dread clawing into my stomach.

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