A Dance of Shadows (The Royal Spares #3)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Aurelia

A hitch of the carriage wheels makes me tense up, but only for a moment when I realize no queasiness has followed the movement. Thank the gods that my nausea has subsided now that I’m past the first few months of my pregnancy.

There’s plenty more to thank the gods for beyond the carriage window. The breeze ripples across the low, grassy hills, carrying a fresh green scent with just a hint of coolness. In the distance, a windmill turns at a leisurely pace alongside a river, surrounded by fields of crops and grazing cattle.

It’s as pastoral a picture as I could have imagined. Nearly as different as I could imagine from the steep inclines and dense woods of my home country.

I glance at Bastien on the seat across from me, invited by Marc to give me a final instructional session before we arrive at Cotea’s capital tomorrow. “The land looks verdant enough here. You’ve mentioned the droughts before—but they’re mainly in the north?”

The prince of Cotea flicks his gaze warily toward my husband, who’s sitting next to me. Marc is giving every appearance of being absorbed in a record-book he’s been studying, but our conversation is hardly private.

When his imperial foster brother doesn’t stir at the mention of problems the empire hasn’t solved—and may in fact have caused—Bastien tips his head to answer my question. “The rainfall in the north is lighter, and with the increase in inhabitants and many of the rivers and streams diverted into canals—it’s thrown off the original equilibrium.”

His jaw tenses just for a second. “All necessary so we can pursue the regaining of the western half of the continent, of course.”

We haven’t come across any local soldiers other than a few scattered guardhouses so far. But then, we’re still more than half the country away from the channel that divides the continent—and the current empire from the territories it lost a century ago.

I hesitate, thinking of my own experiences in Accasy, and phrase my question as diplomatically as possible. “I suppose quite a few of the native Coteans join the military efforts.”

Another flex of Bastien’s jaw makes me want to squeeze his hand in sympathy. Citizens from our conquered kingdoms generally “join” the periodic assaults on the other half of the continent when involuntarily conscripted to the war effort. I doubt most if any actually want to help their tyrants regain their former domain.

“The local commanders keep a balance between Darium soldiers and Cotean,” the prince says. So the newly-armed Coteans don’t have the numbers to revolt, I would guess. “Since most of the local recruits have less training, they often fill the front lines.”

Where they’re cut down so much more quickly than the experienced Darium officers who get to hang back and shout orders. Bastien keeps his voice typically even, but I can sense how much the situation rankles him.

Of course he hates the imposition—and the toll it takes on his people. My own teeth set on edge for a moment before I call on my inner calm.

Marc speaks up before I can, breaking any illusion that he isn’t following our conversation. “I’m sure we could find more for your citizenry to do if a larger number of them proved fully cooperative. Cotea is renowned for innovative ideas and technology, and yet from what I hear, there’s been quite a lot of reluctance to apply those strengths to our military efforts.”

Bastien appears to gather his composure. “Cotea developed that reputation thanks to our vast borders that connect us to so many other nations—and their ideas. But many of those neighbors are no longer part of the empire. Since that change, they’ve been much more reluctant to allow any information useful in warfare to cross the channel.”

My husband waves off the explanation. “You have spies, don’t you? Diplomats who see more than what’s directly shown to them? All I hear are excuses. If Cotea wants more prominence in the ongoing war, they need to earn it.”

“Naturally, Your Imperial Majesty.” Bastien pushes his mouth into a tight smile.

I doubt the Coteans want a better role in the war so much as they want out of it entirely, but we both know they aren’t going to get that while this man is on the throne.

We’re certainly not going to be able to have a remotely productive conversation with Marc directing it based on his priorities.

I make an eager sound and touch my husband’s arm. “The empire can draw on ideas from the many countries we still rule. One of the most difficult aspects of the conflict is the channel itself, isn’t it? Rione is a master of watercraft. Perhaps we should put our princes of Cotea and Rione together and see if they can dream up an approach that could enhance our efforts.”

“As much as Prince Lorenzo can convey anything at all,” Marc says in a derisive tone that sparks a flare of anger in me, but he’s also nodding. “All the same, it’s not a bad idea.”

Bastien gives the impression he’s suppressed a grimace. “Military technology is hardly my area of expertise?— ”

“No matter. Sometimes excellent ideas can come when you aren’t bogged down by assumptions about what’s possible.”

I smile winningly at my husband. “I’d like to know more about your own ideas for approaching the conflict with the western territories. It has been such a long-standing problem, but now you’re in a position to tackle it head-on.”

“Hmm. Perhaps that is better discussed just the two of us. But now we have an alternate mission for our prince here as well.”

Marc gestures out the window, and the convoy stops. One of the soldiers guides Bastien over to the carriage Lorenzo is riding in.

Watching him go sends a wobble of loss through my gut, but I can’t regret the gambit. I’ve removed him as a potential target of the emperor’s ire and gotten the chance to further my personal cause with my husband.

As the carriage rolls forward again, I turn toward Marc. I half expect him to shift to the opposite bench, but he stays there next to me, his knee resting against my skirts.

That’s a sign of some progress in itself.

I don’t push the physical closeness any farther—I’d rather not spur on a more intimate encounter than I can easily control in a carriage. Instead, I cock my head and widen my eyes with not entirely feigned interest. “Do you have new plans for reclaiming the rest of the empire then, husband?”

He leans back against the side of the carriage. “Not exactly new plans but continuing a strategy I discussed with my father many times. We’ve been attacking the border countries on multiple fronts, forcing them to focus on their individual defenses rather than combining manpower. It’s given us a sense of what to expect from each battleground and where our opponents are weakest. But it’s also spread our own forces somewhat thin.”

Only somewhat because of the unwilling locals they keep throwing into the fray.

I summon as avid a tone as I can. “And you have a solution to that problem?”

“I believe so. I need to tour the battlefronts personally—not now, naturally, but perhaps in a year or two. My gift will give us an additional edge. We’ll determine the most vulnerable area and consolidate all our forces there to drive straight through. Our opponents won’t be expecting it. Once we have a foothold on the other side of the channel again, the rest will be much simpler.”

My stomach knots. With what I do know of military history, his approach sounds shrewd. He might succeed in bringing even more countries under the empire’s sway.

Only if I can’t end him and his twin first.

His mention of his gift has caught my attention. I tap his shirt over the spot where his godlen brand is burned into his chest—Sabrelle’s sigil, showing his dedication to conquering. “You haven’t told me what your gift is. It sounds like it must be a potent one.”

Marc gives a dry chuckle. “As potent as I could request without a more significant sacrifice than seemed wise. I gave a few back teeth—they’ve been replaced with close replicas so you can’t tell.”

So Linus must have given the same. How did Tarquin arrange their matching sacrifices? Did they risk a private dedication—or did one of the overseeing clerics meet an unfortunate end immediately after?

Restraining a cringe at the thought, I match Marc’s droll tone. “What did Sabrelle grant you for them that would help you win a war?”

Marc pauses, and for a few seconds I think he’s going to refuse to tell me again. His gaze slides away from me to the landscape passing beyond the window. “I can see the weakest spot—of a person, a squadron, a building. On a limited scale, and without any knowledge of how to take advantage of that weakness, but with training, it isn’t hard to strategize. And if I apply it to multiple defensive positions along the channel, I should be able to compare and determine which would be easiest to penetrate.”

A frigid pool congeals in my stomach. However limited it might be, that gift would be quite a useful power for conquering. I wonder what it tells him about me.

Now that I’ve got him talking, I have to see what else I can get out of him.

I lower my voice. Sitting next to Marc, I can easily speak without our guards overhearing. “Is your brother’s gift similar? That would make it rather hard to be on guard against his worst inclinations.”

A shadow crosses my husband’s face. “His is more erratic… but not necessarily less effective. The vulnerabilities I can sense are more of the physical or logistical variety. Linus can get glimpses of a person’s fears. All the better for him to manipulate them into following his whims.”

Or harass them for his own sadistic pleasure. My pulse stutters. How many times has he used that power with me?

I conceal the jitter of panic and give Marc’s forearm an affectionate caress. “Yours will no doubt prove most useful for the glory of the empire. Your strategy sounds quite brilliant to me. I expect I have much to learn from you in matters of warfare, but I can see that patience and an even temper can take you far. We’re well-matched in that.”

Unlike his reckless, chaotic twin.

Let Marc see the two of us as a united front, one that Linus threatens. One he should be willing to defend.

“Indeed.” Marc’s gaze comes back to me with a brightening of his eyes. He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine. As much as this is a ploy, it’s hard not to notice how much more pleasant his measured grasp is compared to his twin’s often bruising grip. “I look forward to discovering how far we can take the empire together. Ambition is more enjoyable when pursued with company.”

As he used to with his father… and with Linus, some time ago? “I suppose you’ve always had that from your family.”

“Yes. But one can’t always count on family to see the same approach as… constructive, as you well know.”

I stroke my thumb across the back of his hand. “I can see how that will have been frustrating.”

“Yes, well…” Marc holds my gaze. “I have proposed one potential solution to that problem, when you’re willing to work together there.”

He’s still looking to draw me into the murder scheme. I haven’t earned enough loyalty yet for him to want to protect me from the potential dangers instead.

That kind of devotion won’t come quickly. But I can tug at his heart as well as warm it with praise.

I lower my eyes. “Do you have any impression of what he’s planning for Cotea? I got the sense that he means to put some test to all of the countries… and perhaps now to me as well.”

Marc’s grip on my hand tightens slightly. “I’ve tried to reason with him, but he’s set on the course he’s planned. He got rather angry with me when I suggested it might be overly grandiose for us to be catered to as the gods were. And when I told him I didn’t want our heir put at risk. He says it’ll only be a worthy heir if its mother can ‘see through her principles,’ but he didn’t say what exactly that means to him.”

I let out a purposefully nervous laugh. “I don’t suppose you could simply… lock him in the supply carriage until we’re finished in Cotea.”

“I hate to think what he might do if I tried.” Marc’s expression hardens. “If he thinks he has no choice but to expose our secret… The court already prefers his sociable ways and garish entertainments. I don’t know that I’d win a battle of opinion for the throne.”

Having seen Linus’s fervor, I can believe it’d come down to a battle rather than an agreement to openly share the role, especially if he feels his twin tried to take over first.

I straighten my posture with the fortitude Marc has admired in the past. “I’ll simply have to prove I can stick to my principles then—in all ways. If I meet his demands and prove whatever it is he’s looking for in me, maybe he’ll listen to my appeal for moderation.”

Marc’s snort echoes my own disbelief in that assertion. “More likely he’ll see how much farther he can push you. That’s his idea of entertainment.”

I rest my other hand over our twined fingers. “Then I’ll take strength in the knowledge that whatever he asks of me, before long I’ll be by your side again.”

A different sort of light flares in Marc’s eyes, one that sends an unexpected thrill through my chest. He lifts my knuckles to his lips. “So you will.”

I can’t let one minor triumph distract me from my larger goals. “Has anything tended to work in the past to bring him out of one of his particularly aggressive moods?”

Marc appears to consider the question. “Laying out the facts and logic used to, at least to some extent. He didn’t always push things so far. And he listened to Father more than he ever has to me.” He offers me a crooked smile. “Unless you can resurrect a dead emperor, I’m afraid I don’t know what to suggest, or I’d already be doing it.”

That unnerving statement is still hanging in the air between us when the soldiers at the front of the convoy call out at the sight of the waystation where we’ll spend the night. The carriages slow to a halt in front of the sprawling wooden building.

I clamber out into the bustle of the disembarking court. Unwilling to head straight into the dining hall just to sit down again, I wander over to the horses that’ve drawn the imperial carriage. The nearest one gives a huff when it sees me, but it leans its neck against my rubbing fingers.

“That’s a good boy,” I murmur. “I bet you need a good scratch under your chin, right?—”

I don’t see or hear anything, but all at once, the horse and his harnessed companion startle. They lurch forward so suddenly his shoulder knocks into me.

I stumble and manage to shove myself out of the way of their anxious hooves—and the carriage jolting toward me with their fright. With a shout from the nearby soldiers, the huge wooden wheel grinds to a halt just inches from my feet.

Marc catches my arms from behind. “Are you all right?”

With my nerves jumping at the scare, I’d like to wrench away from him. Instead, I force myself to slump a little into his embrace, clinging to his sleeve. “Gods above, that frightened me. I don’t know what got into the horses.”

“You could have been badly injured if you hadn’t moved so quickly.” He frowns at the carriage and then at the figures around us who’ve stopped to see what caused the commotion.

Does he think it was some kind of sabotage, an attempt at harming me, like he seemed to believe with the falling rock in Rione?

What if it was?

Marc mustn’t see any definite evidence, because he simply lobs a few commands at the stablehands who’ve come running over and then escorts me inside. My heart keeps thumping at a faster than usual pace.

In the dining room, Marc sees me to my seat before stalking off. I spot him cornering High Commander Axius by the wall. As I watch them with a knot in my stomach, Bianca drops into the chair next to me.

“Well,” she remarks, “you have developed quite a taste for danger, haven’t you? Although this time you saved yourself.”

My gaze darts to her injured shoulder, though I’m sure the medics patched it up quite well. “I’d rather not put anyone else in harm’s way if I can help it.”

“Hmm. Sometimes your court wants to help you, Your Imperial Highness. Don’t deny us the honor.”

She shoots me a wry grin to show she’s teasing, but her words sink in with more weight than I think she intended.

I don’t know about the rest of this court, but she definitely wants to help. She put her whole life on the line to protect me. I’m still not sure I’ll get to that point even with Marc.

I have my princes, but we’re so limited in how and when we can talk while we’re on the road. If I’m going to make it through this journey in one piece, I may need to extend my trust a little more.

It isn’t as if I need to spill every secret I have to count on her for one small favor.

I lean closer, dropping my voice to a tone both conspiratorial and wary. “These accidents have been rather… concerning. You would tell me if you heard any murmurings of dissatisfaction among the rest of court, wouldn’t you?”

Bianca’s smile sharpens. “Oh, if I catch wind of anyone plotting in ways they shouldn’t, I’ll enjoy seeing you dispense justice. I’ll see what I can pick up from the current gossip tonight.”

She takes to the idea so readily I dare to add one more. “There’s also… if you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable about it…”

The vicerine’s expression goes solemn. “What is it? You don’t need to worry about my comfort.”

My pulse thrums even faster, but I whisper the words all the same. “If you notice Marclinus is in one of his… fiercer moods before he’s encountered me for the day, perhaps you could give me advance warning?”

Bianca has seen my husband’s erratic treatment of me often enough. A trace of sympathy crosses her face before she nods. “It would be no trouble at all, Your Imperial Highness.”

A glimmer of relief lights in my chest. I offer her a smile of my own. “I think you can call me Aurelia. Since we are friends, after all.”