A Dance of Shadows (The Royal Spares #3)

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Aurelia

T he capital of Cotea drapes across a winding river, nestled between several rolling hills. The midday sun beams off sloping rooftops covered in pale pearly tiles that glint like no building material I’ve ever seen before.

That must be one of the ways they’ve blended innovations from around the continent with their own distinctive style.

Delphine’s buildings are lower than those that crowd the streets in Vivencia and Santia, more like the humbler one or two-story structures that fill most of my own capital city. But rather than Costel’s thick stone walls, these are covered in a clay-like material, painted in light pastels that suit the peaceful atmosphere.

How awful to think that this serene country has become the greatest battleground in the continent. And it’s clear from Marc’s comments yesterday that he has no intention on giving up the endless war.

He may escalate it to even greater bloodshed if I can’t intervene first.

Despite the violence the empire has brought to the kingdom, the common folk pour along the streets to welcome our convoy as it skirts the edge of the city on our way to the imperial palace. The cheers and eager shouts sound no less genuine than those we encountered in Santia.

Do some Coteans enjoy the spectacle of the emperor’s arrival despite the horrors so often brought to their shores? Or has the need to pretend been beaten into them so thoroughly it looks like real enthusiasm?

Linus shifts restlessly on his seat across from me. He grins and waves at the civilians along the road, but often his gaze flicks to the west with the manic glint I don’t like at all. He’s been muttering about the traitors of the west and Silana’s cozying up to riven sorcerers ever since we crossed the border into Cotea.

The Seafell Channel is days away. I don’t think he’ll actually attempt to visit it. It’s not as if he could do much there even if he did.

But I don’t like the mood our new setting has put him in.

I have more immediate concerns to focus on, though. In an hour or two, the Cotean royal family will be prostrating themselves before us—and then my husband will no doubt announce some sadistic but supposedly divine demand to match the one he made in Rione.

If I could get some sense of what that demand might be soon enough to give them a warning… Perhaps he’ll be looser lipped about his plans now that they’re so close to coming to fruition.

And I can continue my campaign to sow friction between the twins at the same time.

I smile across the carriage at my husband. “I’m excited to see what you have in store for Delphine. You haven’t had much chance to show off your authority while we’re on the road.”

Linus smirks. “I take my opportunities where I can get them. And it’s much more satisfying directing the idiots from the outer territories.”

I hide my inward wince. “Indeed. I can’t imagine what you’ve come up with, but it’s always thrilling to watch you command the empire.”

As I intended, Linus puffs up his chest a little. Let him take the boost in ego into his next argument with Marc.

His smirk has grown. “Oh, I’ll command them, all right. But it’s my wisdom I’ll have them honor with their own boldness. I thought we might gaze upon some pretty flowers.”

He’s being more specific than when I’ve attempted to prod him in the past, but I still have no idea what he’s talking about. If he’s linking his challenges to godlen myths, wisdom would imply Estera. But flowers are more Ardone’s and Inganne’s areas, beauty and art.

Or he could be referring to something in the palace gardens that would never have occurred to me.

“Flowers?” I inquire innocently.

Linus taps my ankle with the side of his boot, a gesture I’d find playful if it wasn’t just hard enough to sting. “You’ll get to enjoy the spectacle soon enough. And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you need your own role to play.”

The reminder of his warning back in Rione sends a tremor through my pulse, but I keep my head high. “You know I’m always happy to serve you.”

The least I can do is get what little information I gleaned to Bastien. This is his home—hopefully he can make sense of it.

As in Santia, the Delphine royal palace is flanked by a smaller imperial residence for the traveling court. As we disembark from our carriages, I can’t help noting the differences between the building in front of me and the one on the other side of the hedge wall that separates their grounds.

The imperial residence looks like a smaller version of the palace in Vivencia, all pale marble and fluted columns, entirely stone and window glass. Across the way, the creamy, stuccoed Cotean palace holds a few unfamiliar fixtures just within my view. Shining arcs of metal jut from a few of the window frames. More steel gleams along the edge of the tiled roof. Here and there, wooden squares carved into grates sit within the walls.

Linus notes my gaze and lets out a scoffing sound. “The Cotean royals always smack whatever new invention they hear about onto their own home first. In Dariu, we prefer to make sure a thing is worthwhile before we change what’s already working.”

One of the palace staff approaches with some questions about settling the court in. As Linus dives into a list of extravagant requests, my gaze skims across the milling nobles.

There’s Bastien, just emerging from a carriage a few down from mine. I lift my hand as if checking my pinned hair. When he glances my way, I curl my fingers in a surreptitious gesture. Come here.

He ambles my way as if stretching his legs after the long ride. I swivel back toward my carriage, peering into my handbag with the pretense that I’m confirming I have all my possessions.

When Bastien is close enough that I can speak without anyone else hearing me, I offer a hasty murmur. “Today’s test is about wisdom and pretty flowers.”

At the edge of my vision, Bastien’s posture stiffens. He recovers quickly, but when I dart a glance his way, his face has turned even paler than usual.

He continues on his meandering stroll past me and onward through the crowd. Once he’s well away from me, he picks up his pace, striding toward his family’s residence.

My stomach knots. It looked as if he had a pretty good idea what I meant—and as if he didn’t like that idea at all. What new horror has my husband concocted?

The worry lingers in my head as I’m swept into the palace, as my maids prep and polish me, as I return for a new procession down to the central square where the pledging of loyalty will take place. My gaze slides over every landmark we pass, searching for any connections to fables I’m familiar with.

A large fountain stands in the middle of the square, but its statue is of the long-ago emperor who first conquered Cotea’s capital, standing tall and stately while water burbles around his feet. How wonderful for the citizens of Delphine to have the daily reminder of their tyrants.

We arrange ourselves on the recently erected platform with Linus standing front and center. The Cotean royal family arrives: Bastien’s parents, King Stanislas and Queen Odile, as well as his older brother, the brother’s wife, and their two children.

As I watch the tiny prince swish his mother’s skirt, my throat tightens up. In just a few years, if I can’t oust my husband and set things right, they’ll have to ship that boy off to the imperial palace in Bastien’s place.

Great God help me, I can’t even conceive of what that would be like for a child of seven. It was terrifying enough venturing into the center of Dariu as a woman of twenty-one.

Bastien’s family isn’t quite as abundant in cousins as Lorenzo’s, but I’m able to recognize the few key figures he mentioned to me based on his descriptions. Several courtiers hover close to the royal family. I’ve gathered there’s a lot of in-fighting among the nobles to receive commendations from the king. They dress less ornately than the Darium court, their gowns and jackets simple but elegant.

Civilians fill the square around the platform, craning their necks for the best possible view. A local cleric announces the pledging ceremony in both the Darium and Cotean tongues and then beckons to the royal family.

King Stanislas steps forward first, his sallow face lined at the corners of his eyes and mouth but his expression firm. He bows before Linus, declaring his commitment to serving the emperor and the needs of the empire, and then bows to me as well—or rather to my belly, which has started to visibly swell beneath my dress with my growing child. “And I shall serve your heir equally well when he or she arrives.”

As he straightens up, I try to offer warmth in my careful smile and convey sympathy in my gaze. But the king barely glances at me before he’s turning away.

They all come—the queen with her ruddy hair tumbling loose around her light brown face and then their heirs, and the heirs to the heirs. Bastien’s niece, who he told me is eight, stumbles once in the formal wording and immediately flushes scarlet.

“It’s all right,” I reassure her. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

Linus clicks his tongue. “She’s a child, not an imbecile—at least, I hope not, for Cotea’s sake. Let’s have it again, properly this time.”

The little princess’s blush darkens even more, but she repeats her speech without faltering this time. When I dare a look Bastien’s way, his mouth has flattened, but he flicks his hand to say he’s all right.

All right and wishing he could strangle the man beside me, no doubt.

The four-year-old boy, at least, is allowed a truncated version of the allegiance vow. He declares it with a gusto that gives me a little more hope about his resilience in whatever fate may lie ahead of him.

When the ceremony is complete, Linus steps to the front of the platform as he did before. My heart stutters, and I catch a brief twitch of a frown on Counsel Etta’s face not far away.

If she was considering attempting to intervene, Linus speaks before she can.

“Good people of Cotea!” my husband calls out alongside the cleric’s translation. “Your welcome has been as warm as your fields. I’d like us to celebrate my arrival in one more way today. All of you can show how much you honor the empire. Let us gather now at the Temple of Hidden Truths!”

The people whoop, with no idea what sort of “honor” he expects of them. As the soldiers stationed along the edges of the square start to direct them toward the right road, Linus marches to our waiting carriage.

I follow close at his heels, dredging up any facts I can summon about the temple he mentioned. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of it before. Based on the name and his earlier remark, I’m guessing it’s dedicated to Estera.

What could he expect the city folk to do there?

“You have a more elaborate scheme this time,” I comment to him as the carriage lurches forward.

Linus shrugs with a sly grin. “I couldn’t ignore the perfect setting.”

The perfect setting for what?

We draw around the square and out to the northwestern edge of the city. The stately temple stands perhaps a mile beyond the last of the city’s buildings, just over the crest of one of the hills.

As we reach the peak and look down on it, a vise clamps around my lungs.

A patch of bright green forest shades a field perhaps a quarter of a mile wide, stretching between the trees and the temple building. Purple flowers dot every inch of the field.

Irises. Like the parable of Estera and the flowering meadow… with the venomous snake.