Page 7 of A Dance of Shadows

“I don’t think that should be any trouble,” I say agreeably. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can begin earning the loyalty of all the empire’s subjects.

His advisors all look a little taken aback by his consideration. Cleric Pierus rouses himself first with a twitch of his sweeping robes. “I’ll reach out to my colleagues at the local temples so they can have everything in order for your arrival.”

Severo jerks his slim frame even taller. “Yes, there is much to see to.”

The two of them and Etta hustle out of the room. Axius ambles around the table toward us at a more measured pace. “We’ll want to keep the convoy relatively small, but I think itwould be best if I accompany you, Your Imperial Eminences.” The flick of his firm gaze briefly includes me as well as my husband. “I’d prefer to be able to oversee your protection personally while you’re beyond Dariu’s borders.”

Despite his seemingly respectful acknowledgement, my skin tightens at his nearness. The burly military advisor has always appeared skeptical of my ability to take on a more prominent role in the ruling of the empire. I don’t relish the idea of him hovering over us even more closely than usual while we’re on this journey.

I can hardly claim the capital city needs his protection more during this peaceful time. So while Marclinus claps the high commander on the arm and thanks him for his dedication, all I can do is remain quiet.

Quiet and thoughtful. Is Axius one of the obstacles my princes and I will need to remove from court before I can safely ascend?

If so, it’s possible the tour will provide us with the perfect opportunity. I’ll have to see how well his supposed respect holds up under the stress of traveling beyond Dariu’s borders.

As we head back to the hall of entertainments, my husband takes my arm again. He leans close to speak in a conspiratorial murmur. “As Axius noted, we’ll need to limit how much of our court travels with us abroad. My foster brothers will join us by necessity since we’re visiting their home countries, and I have a number of others in mind. But if you have any preferences among our noble companions, I’ll take that into consideration.”

Another shiver of possibility passes through me. For several months, I’ll be surrounded by the nobles Marclinus values most.

I’ll have to take every chance I can get to solidify my place in that inner circle… and remove anyone who resents my presence.

And he’s letting me choose an inner circle of my own to support me on that journey. Who of the imperial court wouldI actually want by my side while we’re traipsing across the continent?

When we enter the long room, I cast my gaze over the gathered nobles. For all their politeness to my face, I’ve picked up hints that at least a few still hold some animosity over the daughters and friends my husband and his father executed during their trials, as if it’s my fault the imperial family came up with their bloody tests.

Is there a single person in this room I could consider a friend?

My attention settles on a head of gleaming black hair at one of the cards tables. Vicerine Bianca is covering a giggle at one of her neighbor’s jokes, her smooth brown skin looking as polished and her poise as elegant as always.

She was one of my fiercest enemies during the trials… but she’s proven to be a useful ally since then.Sheat least has recognized that Marclinus’s intentions are totally separate from my own.

And she’s also one of his favorite mistresses, so she may divert some of the attentions I’d generally rather not entertain. Although the thought gives me a pinch of guilt when she’s confided to me that she doesn’t take any pleasure from their more intimate encounters.

Well, it’s up to her to decide how far she’ll indulge him. Knowing her typical attitudes, I suspect she’d be eager for the honor of an invitation regardless of the rest.

Presumably that means we’ll have to invite her grim husband, Viceroy Ennius, along as well, but then I can keep a closer eye on him and make sure he’s not taking his jealousy out on her too severely.

There are a few other noblewomen I haven’t had any uncomfortable interactions with. Baronissas Damina and Hivette only have eyes for each other, so there’s no umbragefrom them over an outsider taking Marclinus’s hand. And Marchionissa Lucrene may be more than twice my age, but she’s seemed to hold herself mostly above the court dramatics.

I mention those four names to Marclinus without lingering on any of them. I catch a tick of his eyebrow upward at Bianca, but he doesn’t remark on my choice.

My gaze snags next on a strapping frame topped with white-blond hair. Prince Neven, the youngest of the foster princes, is peering at the crowd with a trace of uneasiness on his tanned face. The teenager catches my gaze only for a second, and he’s at least wise enough to look elsewhere before he offers a slight nod and an upward curve of his lips.

He has far less reason to be invested in my fate than his older foster brothers, but he’s thrown himself into the fray on my behalf all the same. Perhaps I can repay him in some small form.

I glance toward the cluster of four musicians filling the room with a lively tune. “I don’t suppose we could bring along a little entertainment for the long stretches on the road? Maybe just a couple of the court musicians?”

Particularly the harpist I know Neven has been carrying out a flirtation with. Why shouldn’t he get to have a little fun during our months away, if he’d like to?

My husband hums. “Boredom makes for restless companions. I think we could manage it. Although Prince Lorenzo can always offer the benefit of his gift as well.”

He looks toward the prince of Rione, who I’ve been pretending not to notice watching a nearby darts game, and back at me. “I know there’ve been some tensions between you and my foster brothers, and certain events may have… worsened the situation. But they are still meant to serve us. I’ll see that they offer you whatever insights they can about the countries of their birth and their ruling families, if you can tolerate the conversations.”

My lovers and I have pretended total indifference—if not outright dislike—toward each other as blatantly as possible over the past few months, to avoid feeding into Marclinus’s apparent suspicions. It sounds as if he finally believes we care little for each other.

I stifle the skip of my pulse at the opportunity to spend more time with the men I love and offer the reluctance he clearly expects. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too unpleasant when it’s for the sake of handling our visits as well as possible.”

Marclinus raises his hand in a beckoning motion. “Your Highness of Rione!” he calls with a slight mocking lilt. “A word?”

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