A Dance of Shadows (The Royal Spares #3)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Aurelia

M y first glimpse of Rione takes my breath away. Across the undulating turquoise waters of the sea, the buildings of the capital city of Santia stand out, smooth and white, amid lush green trees and crags of rock a yellowish hue nearly as vibrant as gold.

The city is sprawled across a hillside. The royal palace stands near the peak, a gleaming white structure of domes and turrets. The smaller buildings of businesses and homes—interspersed with the jutting towers of temples here and there—ripple down the slope beneath it.

The bright city flows all the way to the docks at the water’s edge. To the right stand other huge, elegant ships like the one that’s conveying my husband and I and half of our traveling court across the water. They’re neighbored by a swarm of smaller craft, which Lorenzo told me serve a variety of purposes from fishing to pleasure boating.

How much pleasure are the people of Rione able to take out of their lives? I can’t stop thoughts of the recent brief but brutal rebellion from rising up in the back of my mind.

Seven years ago, a coalition of freedom seekers managed to assassinate the marchion who was the main imperial representative in the country. Many more common folk were inspired to arms against other Darium authorities and merchants in residence. Possibly one or more members of the royal family gave their illicit support, though that was never confirmed.

The rebellion raged for all of five days before Marclinus brought warships hurtling across the sea and splattered these shining streets with the blood of the “traitors.” The Darium forces hunted down every last rebel across the vast island. They hung corpses throughout Santia for weeks longer than the rebellion itself lasted.

That’s the most immediate legacy I come representing. That’s the most vivid memory most of these people will have of my husband and his family’s rule—including the royal family I’m going to need on my side if I’m to remake this empire into something that serves all of us instead of only Dariu.

Either there’s still a fair bit of curiosity about Darium power alongside the resentment and fear, or the people of Santia are afraid of the consequences if they fail to show enough enthusiasm. Hundreds of faces in a mottling of colors from pinkish pale to dusk dark watch our arrival from the streets along the docks and the strip of beige beach farther to the left, where the coast curves in on itself in an arc.

Banners in imperial purple wave in the air. As we reach the dock, I make out words in Darium amid the clamoring of eager voices: “The emperor!” “Welcome, welcome!”

A lot of the clamor is in Rione’s native tongue. Any commoner who doesn’t need to do business directly with Dariu’s people isn’t likely to pick up more than a few basic phrases of the imperial language. I know a little Rionian from my language studies growing up, but not enough to make much sense of dozens of voices melding together.

The dock staff swiftly moor the grand ship and prepare the ramp for us to disembark in the carriages that brought us this far. As I head back to mine, Bianca catches my eye on the way to hers. “Quite a quaint little spectacle, isn’t it?”

Only someone who’s lived most of their life in Vivencia could see this riot of color and sound as “quaint” or “little.” Her wide smile suggests she’s appreciating the change of scenery all the same, though.

I clamber into the carriage to join my husband, who’s already seated with his head tipped toward the window. He rubs his hands together in a gesture of anticipation that sends a flicker of alarm through me.

Under the guise of straightening his collar this morning, I managed to confirm the man next to me has the dab of darker pink I marked behind his ear. After his exuberant greetings to his friends while we breakfasted, it was no surprise to see I was dealing with Linus.

Marc’s warning from more than a week ago has lingered with me. Neither he nor his twin have given any sign of what the latter might be plotting, but I can almost taste my husband’s impatience to get on with it.

Linus aims one of his feral grins at me. “Look how the local royals turn themselves out for us, wife! Swarming here to greet us even though all we’ll do at this point is wave from the window.”

He guffaws to himself and then does just that, waving to the cluster of figures in opulent clothing waiting on a platform right at the base of the dock.

In the moment while we’re passing them, I identify Lorenzo’s mother and father: crowns atop their dark hair, the queen’s face such a dark brown it’s nearly black while the king’s is closer to Raul’s tawny shade. The older woman with the neat bun of white-and-gray hair standing just behind them must be Lorenzo’s grandmother. The carriage pulls onward before I can try to pick out the other figures the prince of Rione told me about.

The cheers and chatter follow us along the broad road that winds through the city streets up to the palace. We don’t draw to a halt outside the main building’s arching doorway but at another polished white structure across a strip of garden.

Some long-ago emperor commissioned separate imperial residences on the grounds of the capital palaces of every conquered country. It’s supposedly for privacy and security, but undoubtedly also to serve as a constant reminder of the local royals’ subservience, even in the long stretches when the emperor isn’t around.

The similar palace next to my family’s in Accasy’s capital was only occupied for a couple of months in the entire twenty-one years I’ve been alive, but the sight of it never failed to knot my stomach.

The secondary palace is perhaps only half the size of Lorenzo’s family’s, but considering it only needs to house a court and staff a fraction as many, that’s awfully extravagant all the same.

One of the soldiers who’s guarded our convoy opens the carriage door for us. My husband and I stride into the glinting halls first with our personal guards and then the rest of the court trailing behind.

The Rionian architecture shares much with Darium—how much because of similar southern climates and how much through centuries of influence, it’s impossible to say. The airy interior is structured to allow breezes to easily pass through for their cooling effect. Art both painted and in mosaics decorates the walls, though none of the pieces I pass are enchanted. I suppose it’s not worth the effort to arrange that magic when we’re so seldom here to appreciate the effect.

The chambers reserved for the empress do come with a couple of noticeable differences. Even in my bedroom, the floor is free of rugs other than a thin one right next to the bed. The rest of the space gleams with pale buffed hardwood. And one set of windows is actually a double door that opens onto my own small but private balcony overlooking the city and the sea beyond.

As I take a deep breath of the salt-laced breeze, Linus pats me on the shoulder. “Get yourself out of those travel clothes and ready for the pledging ceremony. We’ll be presenting ourselves at the fourth bell.”

That gives me at least a couple of hours before I’m called on again.

Once he’s gone, I submit to my maids’ ministrations without complaint. After a quick bath, the elaborate pinning of my hair, and the arranging of the many filmy silk layers of my gown, the bells for the third hour peal from the towers throughout the city.

“I’d like some time to meditate before the ceremony,” I tell my helpers.

They bob their heads and slip out of the room.

I sink down on the floor in a pool of sunlight. Exhaustion prickles through me under the warm beams, and all at once all I want to do is lie back and go to sleep. Skip the awful pageantry I’m meant to be a part of.

No. That pageantry will help solidify my place as a leader. I just need to demonstrate that I’m more thoughtful and compassionate than my husband or the imperial leaders before him.

Which shouldn’t be difficult. The hard part will be not being so obvious about my intentions that Linus—and Marc, for that matter—takes offense.

A soft knock on the balcony door brings my head jerking around with a lurch of my heart. My momentary panic washes away with a rush of joy.

All three of my lovers are peering past the open door into the room. As I scramble to my feet, they slip inside.

Bastien catches me in his slim arms first, hugging me tight with a kiss to my forehead and then easing back to look me up and down.

“How are you doing?” he asks in a soft voice, wary of the guards posted in the hall outside.

A slightly hysterical giggle bubbles out of me. “As well as I can be. What are you doing? If someone saw?—”

Lorenzo’s illusionary voice travels into my head before I can finish. “They won’t have. We made sure Marclinus wasn’t nearby, and I drew an illusion around us to disguise our arrival. And getting up to the balcony was no problem.” He aims a fond smile at his older foster brother. “Bastien’s getting better with his control over his gift by the day.”

Raul lets out a teasing huff. “I could have made us a staircase of shadow if that wouldn’t have created even more visuals for you to hide.”

Bastien elbows him in return. “Yes, yes, your gift is very impressive too.”

A fuller laugh rises from my lungs. My princes close in around me in a joint embrace, as if this is exactly where they’re always meant to be.

We’re tackling the challenges ahead of us together. I take so much strength from that fact.

Bastien strokes his thumb over the small of my back. “We haven’t had much chance to strategize for our stay here. You’ll want a chance to make an impression of your own, separate from Marclinus.”

I nod. “I’m not sure how exactly I’ll do that, but the more time I can get apart from him to speak with the local nobles or even the common people, the easier it’ll be.” I seek out Lorenzo’s gaze. “You’ll have the best ideas of how to keep him occupied here.”

“I’ll see what I can nudge my family into arranging. They’re not all that inclined to do favors for the emperor beyond what’s expected.” Lorenzo caresses my cheek. “And Raul and I can keep up our campaign of seeding good will. We can explore the city, inventing voices speaking your praises and symbols of your favor with the gods.”

Raul grins. “I noticed a temple of Elox we passed that might be the perfect place to start.”

I tip my head against his shoulder. “Don’t go too overboard. We don’t want the gods feeling we’ve engaged in blasphemy.”

“I can generally draw an appropriate line. For example, I’m exerting the most laudable self-control right now not tossing you on the bed and rumpling that lovely dress.”

I snort even as a flush washes over my skin at his words. It’s been too long since I got to fully enjoy the company of any of the men I love.

A solemn cast has come over Lorenzo’s face. I stroke my fingers along his jaw. “I hope being home with Marclinus around doesn’t stir up too many awful memories.”

The prince of Rione gives himself a little shake and takes my hand to press his lips to the knuckles. “Those can stay in the past. I’m going to see that we make new ones, the best I’ve ever had here.”

The longing to get started on that right now wells up in me so fast that tears prick at the backs of my eyes. I manage to keep my voice steady. “I’m looking forward to that.”

Bastien draws back first, with obvious reluctance. “You’ll be called on soon—and so will we. We shouldn’t linger. But I’m sure there’ll be opportunities for other meetings like this.” He pauses. “I noticed—Marclinus has been carrying a book around occasionally during the trip. I got a closer look at it this morning, and it appears to be a collection of fables. You don’t have any idea why he’d be fixating on that, do you?”

Uneasiness creeps through my nerves. “No. He hasn’t been reading it while we’re in the carriage. I don’t know why he’d be at all secretive about it.”

Raul’s mouth forms a grim smile. “I guess we’ll find out sooner or later. Come on, gents.”

Despite his words, he takes the time to claim a kiss before the three of them head back to the balcony.

I won their hearts. I should be able to win over the rest of the empire, right?

By the time the call comes for me to leave, my gut is churning more than I can blame on my pregnancy. I fix a smile on my face and join my husband in an open-top carriage for the journey down the hillside.

“Very nice,” he says, leering at me with a slide of his hand over my hip, which tells me right away that I’m still with Linus for this part of our visit. “You do me proud.”

I lower my eyelashes modestly. “It’s my honor to stand by your side.”

And stand by his side I do, on the platform that’s been assembled at one end of a huge city square, with the harbor to our right and the beach to our left. Flags bearing the Darium crest flap in the light wind while we pose with the court and our escort of soldiers flanking us.

The ocean breeze ripples against the gauzy silk sleeves that stretch to my wrists. I’m not ashamed of the purple blotches of discoloration that scar my lower arms, but I’d rather not have questions about them color the Rionians’ first impressions of me.

The cleric from Santia’s temple of the All-Giver leads the ceremony, calling out to the mass of spectators through an amplification charm. He speaks in Darium, but my ears pick up the echo of several translators throughout the watching swarm of spectators, repeating his words in Rionian.

“His Imperial Majesty Marclinus comes before all of us of Rione as our new gods-blessed emperor. Long may he reign! To continue the cooperation and respect between our country and Dariu, Queen Anahi, King Emilio, and Princess Leonor will confirm their loyalty to both him and to his coming heir that Empress Aurelia carries.”

Amid the cheers from the crowd, Lorenzo’s parents and older sister stride onto the platform. Queen Anahi’s expression remains coolly regal as she takes in both me and my husband, her polite smile nothing like the heartfelt one I received from her son just an hour ago.

I don’t want you to be humbled any more than you do, I want to tell her. You deserve your pride among your people.

But I have to remain silent while she kneels before us and pledges to support and obey the empire. Linus smirks his approval and taps her head like she’s a dog who’s performed a good trick rather than the leader of an entire country. Off to the side of our assembly, I catch the twitch of Lorenzo’s face with a stifled wince.

As the king and princess make their own vows, dipping their heads to both the emperor and my belly, Linus’s smirk only grows wider. He shifts his weight as if gathering himself—or holding himself back.

When the royal family has finished offering their devotion and moved aside, my husband takes a sudden step forward. My pulse hitches.

This isn’t a planned part of the ceremony—at least not any plan I was let in on.

Linus raises his hands high. “Good people of Rione, would you all offer me your loyalty as well?”

I wonder again how much the crowd’s roar of approval is driven by fear rather than actual appreciation.

“Excellent.” Linus rocks on his heels, his teeth gleaming in the mid-afternoon sun. “For centuries, Dariu has watched over the countries we took under our wing. I feel it’s time for a greater show of commitment. The gods themselves have inspired me!”

My gaze flicks toward the cleric. From his tensed expression, I don’t think he was expecting this development either.

“I’ve heard of an old tale about the first inhabitants of this island,” Linus continues. “It’s said that several ships were wrecked outside this ocean cove, and our godlen Jurnus came upon the survivors. I’d imagine you’re all familiar with the story?”

A less avid murmur of agreement passes through the crowd.

Linus claps his hands. “Jurnus promised to bless their new settlement if they would build him a ship and make him a feast. With little to work with, they swam down to the ocean depths to gather the sloughed-off chunks of tolk coral from the nearby reefs. The rough pieces cut their hands, summoning a school of barama which they then killed for the most extravagant feast.”

A vague recollection of the fable forms in my mind. I don’t understand where he’s going with this, unless… No, that would be absurd.

Linus’s voice carries on without a hint of concern. “If those people of Rione could manage such an honor when they had so little, I expect it should be an easy enough feat for you to honor me the same way now. For all you’ve gained from the empire, let me see you bleed your thanks!”