Page 4 of A Dance of Shadows

“What festivities are we enjoying today, husband?” I ask.

Marclinus sweeps his hand through the air extravagantly. “We’re due at the arena at the tenth bell. I thought it’d be a thrill for the common folk to get to tread on that venerable ground themselves alongside us. We’ll have the music and refreshments and whatnot to set the right mood. No bloodshed today.”

He tugs on a loop of my upswept hair and chuckles. I suppose if he isn’t the man who fought in the arena yesterday morning,Marc filled him in on all the details of my performance. Not that either of them have shown any sign of concern for the injuries I sustained before the medic on call healed them.

If thisisa different man than the one I spoke to last… is he deliberately trying to provoke me? Maybe he’s acting even more manic and lustful than usual to see how I’ll react after last night’s revelations, if they were nothing more than a scheme to test me.

Or maybe, as the viceroy suggested, he’s simply in high spirits now that he’s completed every step to being accepted as the new emperor. I have to be careful not to tumble too far into paranoia myself.

A marchion gets up from his seat a couple down from mine and brushes past my chair on his way to the door, with a respectful dip of his head to both me and his emperor. My husband’s gaze tracks him with a sudden icy glint that makes me abruptly nervous bloodshed might be on the menu after all.

“Otho!” he calls over. “Don’t be so hasty in leaving. Surely you haven’t feasted your eyes on my wife for quite long enough.”

The marchion jerks back toward us, his expression twitching with a flicker of panic.Washe looking at me any more than is usual, or is this simply more of the delusions Marc mentioned last night?

Otho bobs his head again, his tone uncertain. “Her Imperial Highness always looks lovely.”

It’s as neutral a remark as he could safely give, avoiding the insult of saying he wouldn’t want to look at me without any implication that he’s personally invested. My husband doesn’t seem to take it that way, though.

Marclinus—Linus?—bares more teeth with his grin. “I’m glad you think so. For her entertainment and that of all Vivencia’s people, perhaps we should have a bit of additional fun in the arena. Why don’t you face off against a leopard or a wolf for ourspectators? I assume you know your way around a sword at least a little.”

What color was left in Marchion Otho’s face drains away. He isn’t that confident a swordsman. But there’s not much he can say without risking a worse punishment.

“I’d be honored to test my skills for Your Imperial Majesty,” he says. “I’ll make sure I’m prepared.”

As he hustles off, my stomach knots. My husband’s unstated jealousy is finally focused on parties other than the princes I’ve actually fallen for, but I can’t say I like seeing anyone tormented.

I keep a placid expression and lift my eyebrows at Marclinus. “I hadn’t noticed his attention. Do you think I have some reason to be worried about him?”

Marclinus guffaws. “Not after today.” He pushes to his feet. “Why don’t you see to whatever other preparations you’d want to make before displaying yourself to the city? There’s only a little time.”

There is, but I don’t intend to spend it adding more powder to my face or pins to my hair.

As I stand, I turn my body so my right hand is clearly visible to Prince Lorenzo, who’s sitting several seats down on the other side of the table. With a few subtle gestures that should look as if I’m just fidgeting with my skirt, I aim a message his way.You three meet below.

Hoping he caught my signs, too cautious to even glance toward him, I glide out of the dining room.

In my apartment with my ever-present guards posted outside the door, I pause just long enough to assure my one maid who’s lingered that I’d like my solitude before the chaos of the festivities and to give Sprite a quick scratch under her chin. After the maid has departed and I’ve set the tabby kitten on the bedspread to curl up purring, I go to the wall next to my bedside table.

At a press of my fingers in just the right spot, a hidden panel whispers open. I slip inside and shut it again.

The enchantment that lights the palace’s inner passageways exudes a faint illumination over the narrow space. My gown rustles against the rough wooden walls as I hurry through the secret halls and down even stuffier staircases to the room where the servants used to enter.

I find the abandoned space vacant other than the drab, mismatched furniture. My princes must have been careful not to leave too closely after me.

After tapping on the magic-fueled lantern left behind from other meetings, I drift from one end of the small room to the other. Even though I’ve only been out of bed for a couple of hours, a wave of exhaustion rolls over me.

It’s partly due to my pregnancy, but at least as much because of my broken sleep and the new fears weighing on me.

At the sigh of the panel opening again, I spin toward the entrance.

Prince Bastien steps out first, the thin light setting his pale skin in sharp contrast with his auburn hair and pine-green eyes. For all his strict and sensible airs, a smile springs to his lips.

He strides straight to me and tugs me close to his lean chest. “I didn’t know how much longer I could stand staying away from you.”

A lump rises in my throat as the same sentiment echoes through me. This is the first time we’ve been able to speak properly since he and his foster brothers watched me in my near-fatal battle in the arena yesterday.

Bastien had to hold himself back while not just me but his future son or daughter were nearly cut down in the confirmation rite for Sabrelle. Only the four of us know that the child I’m carrying is actually his.

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