A Dance of Shadows (The Royal Spares #3)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Raul

S tanding tensed in the dim secret passage, I flick my fingers down my chest in a hasty gesture of appeal to the gods. I don’t generally ask for divine attention, but my current task feels risky enough to warrant it.

Kosmel, if you ever bless me with more stealth and good luck than usual, let it be now. I’d rather not get skewered by an imperial guard today, if it’s all the same to you.

I can’t tell whether my patron godlen accepts my missive, but I didn’t expect to. At some point, I have to take the leap regardless.

Steadying myself, I extend my gift beyond the sealed panel in front of me into the emperor’s apartment.

I keep my testing of the shadows tentative at first, just tracing the patches of darkness along the walls and beneath the nearest furniture. My ears stay pricked for any hint of movement or alarm from the one guard posted at the official door to Marclinus’s chambers.

His Imperial Fucking Majesty was joking and cavorting with his noble friends in the parlor when I left. He didn’t look inclined to leave any time soon. I’m assuming he keeps his guards who can sense magic near him rather than posted at his empty room, but nothing good will come out of getting foolhardy.

No shouts ring out or doors bang open to tackle a possible threat. I stretch my awareness farther through the shadows that touch every object in the room, and there’s no sign anyone’s noticed the workings of my gift.

Good. Then I can get on with my full purpose.

Deepening my concentration, I direct my power past the front sitting room into the enormous bedroom beyond. Somewhere in this apartment, there’s supposedly a hidden chamber where the two men who call themselves Marclinus switch off their role as emperor without any servant or guard being the wiser.

I trace the baseboards from the bedroom into a bathing room and a smaller side area where the shadows lick the edges of rows of jackets and trousers. Apparently no piece of furniture was big enough to contain the imperial prick’s wardrobe, so he has a whole room just for his attire to live in.

Most of the walls contain only shreds of shadow between the layers of their construction. But when I pass over a spot next to the bedroom’s fireplace, I sense a deeper well of space behind what would otherwise feel like a built-in bookcase.

I push my gift farther, and my awareness tumbles into another room—smaller than the bedroom it’s attached to but still plenty spacious. More bookshelves line the walls. Shadows touch the base of a sofa and the posts of a bed, the heap of covers atop the mattress giving off the impression of a silky texture.

At the far end, there’s the shape of a desk—with a man sitting at it, leaning over a paper he’s looking at.

I can’t read the paper or see the man’s precise features with my gift, but the picture drawn by the wisps of sensory impressions tell a lot of the story. He’s tallish and fairly muscular. His clothes are finely woven. Shadows slide between the curls of his hair.

A metal band with the texture and density of gold encircles his right wrist.

He could be a twin of the man I saw just minutes ago in the parlor. He’s definitely hiding away in the imperial apartments behind a secret entrance I doubt anyone knows about.

Gods smite me. All this time, there really has been two of the assholes terrorizing the rest of us?

I hadn’t been sure I wanted to believe it, but it’s hard to deny what my gift is telling me.

With a shudder, I retract my awareness into my body. My sense of the still air against my skin and the tickle of dust in my nose resolidifies.

As I hurry to the vacant bedroom where I entered the hidden passages, my head whirls. I’ll pass on the information I’ve just discovered to Aurelia, and to Bastien and Lorenzo as well.

When should we let Neven in on this specific new development? Even after we’re sure Marclinus is actually Marc and Linus, we won’t know the deceitful assholes’ true intentions for revealing that information to Aurelia.

Can we be sure Neven won’t let any hint of the secret slip? The moment it’s clear to the twin emperors that we know, that Aurelia must have told us, they’ll stick all our heads on pikes.

No, there are still a few things we need to keep to ourselves—for his safety as much as ours. I don’t want to put knowledge this precarious in his hands until we’re sure of how we’re handling the situation.

Even my own impulses are hardly under perfect control. When I saunter back into the parlor, the bronze sheen of Aurelia’s hair immediately calls to me from the corner of my eye. I have to jerk my gaze away.

As much as I’d like to veer straight toward her, I force myself to not even take another glance. I amble over to a couple of vicerines I’ve dallied with before and toss out a few compliments.

After several minutes of aimless flirting, I move on and find Neven hustling over to me. The eager glint in his eyes sends a jab of guilt through my gut over the secret I’m keeping.

But the kid is happy enough with the subterfuge he’s already carrying out. When I clap him on the shoulder and ask how his studies are going, he grins through his complaint that he wishes they focused more on combat than history and then drops his voice low. “Flurinette, Syrus, Rufina.”

The last time we all spoke, Bastien and I asked him to keep his ears perked for any disdainful or outright hostile remarks about Aurelia within the court. Apparently those three nobles weren’t quite discreet enough.

“Keep up the good work,” I tell him with a grin of my own.

I meander onward—and end up, as if by chance, near the side table set with bottles of wine, just as Aurelia reaches it.

I pick up a glass of my own while one of the imperial tasters samples hers before handing it over. Aurelia offers me a subdued smile. “Prince Raul. I hope you’re well today.”

I dip my head in a brief bow. “Quite, Your Imperial Highness. I heard we princes from abroad are expected to play tutor over the coming months. My esteemed foster brother seemed rather impatient about ensuring we’re up to the task. Shall I start your education in the ways of Lavira now, or are you otherwise occupied?”

Aurelia’s smile slants as if she doesn’t really want to take me up on my offer. I’ll never fail to be amazed at how adept an actress she is.

“I suppose now would be an acceptable time to begin,” she says, with feigned hesitance for the benefit of anyone watching. “Although I don’t imagine we’ll reach Lavira for a few months.”

“It’s a big place. There’s lots to learn.” I look toward Marclinus where he’s tossing back his own wine across the room. “And I wouldn’t want His Imperial Majesty to think I’m shirking my duty.”

We drift over to a quieter corner, keeping a careful distance apart. Gods know I’d love to tease my fingers down the side of her pretty face and along her tempting curves, but I’ll settle for gazing into those entrancing deep blue eyes.

Shielding my free hand with my wine goblet, I flick my fingers into Lorenzo’s sign for Marclinus. “Whatever stories you might have heard, I’d imagine they’re true.”

Aurelia lifts her eyebrows, but her gaze turns more intent. “Are you sure? You’ve rarely been back to your home country since you were small, haven’t you?”

“I’ve gotten a few opportunities to call on my family,” I say. “And I have other ways of keeping track of recent happenings. I can’t confirm every rumor with full certainty, but my impressions are fairly clear.”

She gives a slight nod as she takes in those words. She knew I intended to investigate Marclinus’s story when I had the chance—she’ll be able to read between the lines of my commentary.

After a moment, her mild smile returns. We need to keep up the pretenses of the conversation we’re supposed to be having.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with very many stories of Lavira at all. What do you think are the country’s most important features?”

I pause, my mind tumbling through all the parts of my former home that I’d like to share with her. The bustling market in our capital of Rodrige. The late-night debates, full of both yelling and laughter, between the nobles of our court. The magic-blessed pond in the palace grounds full of fish that shimmer like diamonds.

That cove down by the lake where I’d lift her onto one of the rocky ledges and worship her until there was nothing inside her but pleasure.

I can’t mention any of those right now. Even the first few pieces would sound too personal.

“You’ll mainly be interacting with my family and our court,” I say. “My parents, my older brother and his wife, my younger sister, and various nobles much like here. They’re big believers in both diplomacy and negotiation, so you can assume anything they say has been tempered by a significant portion of tact and may be open to haggling.”

At my description, the corner of Aurelia’s lips quirks a little higher. An ache forms in my heart.

What will my family make of the woman who’s won that heart? She won’t be able to show them her full might or generosity.

She can certainly banter and parlay with the best of them, but will they take her measured airs for imperial deception?

How will they speak to—and about— me in front of her? After all these years, I’d like to think I’ve done them proud with my conduct. I haven’t brought down any sanctions on my kingdom with my behavior… But the memory of my brother’s dismissive teasing the last time I was home still stings.

From what I hear from the gossip that passes our way, all you do in court is seduce ladies and show off in arena tournaments for the emperor’s amusement. Trust you to treat the situation like a holiday.

If he had any idea what it’s really been like…

But there are some things my foster brothers and I haven’t dared to tell even our closest family. After all our time apart, I can’t say they’re much more than acquaintances now.

I don’t know that any one of them wouldn’t use our secrets to their own benefit without recognizing the full cost.

Aurelia tilts her head as if in thought. “I gather trade and distribution are among the major industries, with the location of the country making it a sort of hub to the rest of the empire. Are there any local resources or crafts involved in all that commerce?”

“Oh, I suppose Lavirians are most renowned for our cuisine and our furnishings. What’s a negotiation without the right surroundings to set the mood?”

“I look forward to experiencing both.”

As I reach for the right thing to say next, one of the older marchions brushes past our conversation spot. Syrus—Neven mentioned his name.

His gaze flicks toward Aurelia only for an instant, but I notice a hint of a grimace twisting his mouth. When he’s passed us by, almost out of earshot even to me, I catch a mutter under his breath. “Grasping foreign bint.”

My stance tenses. I glance over my shoulder after him, dredging up everything I can remember about the man.

Ah. His daughter was Lady Giralda—one of Aurelia’s competitors who was culled from the trials in bloody fashion.

How can he blame our empress for that? It isn’t as if she wanted to endure those sick games.

But it’s easier to resent the relative stranger in our midst than the emperor who’d put Marchion Syrus’s head on a pike if he complained about him. Look what happened when he dared to speak up for his daughter’s benefit.

I offer Aurelia a few more basic facts about my home country and then another quick bow. “I’ll give you some time to take that in so you can ask more specific questions later.”

It’s only a few minutes after I drift away from her that Marclinus swoops in on me with a maniacal glint in his eyes.

He slings his arm around my shoulders as if we’re actually close and not foster brothers barely even in name. “I see you’re already helping prepare my wife for the political wrangling ahead of her. Very good, very good.”

I give him the same impassive expression I aimed at her. “You made your needs known. I’m happy to oblige.”

And he’s never going to have the faintest idea how true that statement actually is in this one case.

Marclinus takes another swig from his goblet, which must have been refilled at least a couple times this afternoon. From the slight slur to his words, I get the impression he’s already drunk. “Always appreciated, brother. Perhaps you can enlighten me on another subject. While you were talking to her, did her attention stray to anyone else in the room? Or did any of our companions pay particular attention to her?”

A prickle runs down my spine. He’s asking me to play snitch when it comes to Aurelia’s personal affairs.

I’d find the fact amusing if it didn’t mean he’s still got the idea in his head that she’s betraying him somehow.

“She seemed completely attentive to my insights about Lavira,” I say honestly. “As for the rest of the court…”

This is the perfect opportunity to put Aurelia’s suggested strategy to use. Because I do have a confirmed target I’m happy to aim his paranoia at—with whatever consequences might come with it.

The nobles will need to learn not to spew their venom at the woman I love.

Knitting my brow, I frown as if the memory bothers me. “I did notice Marchion Syrus eyeing her a little oddly. I’m not sure what his intentions were. She didn’t give him any notice.”

The unnerving glint in Marclinus’s pale eyes flares brighter. “Ah. That is definitely useful to know. Thank you, my friend.”

He claps me on the shoulder and moves as if to step away. But just before he does, he drops his voice into a slyer murmur. “I hope you’re looking forward to our coronation tour. I have grand plans.”

He swans off with a jovial shout to a nearby baron, leaving me suppressing a wince. I can’t help thinking that any grand plans our blasted emperor comes up with will likely be miserable for everyone else—and Aurelia most of all.