Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lorenzo
I t feels as if so much of my life has narrowed down to surreptitiously watching Aurelia from the edge of my sight, from across a crowd. Pretending I’m not waiting for any motion that could be a message or a plea for help.
Right now, three days out of Cotea on our way to the capital of Lavira, she’s sitting at a hastily draped table outside the small waystation that’s prepared our lunch. Marclinus has claimed the spot next to her. From time to time, he trails the backs of his fingers down her arm in a caress I have to admit is gentler than most of his past groping.
Because only one half of the pair who now rule as our emperor takes the groping approach. This must be the slightly more considerate twin.
It’s still hard for me to accept that the boy I grew up with who appeared to take such enjoyment out of heckling me was actually two people. Hard to know whether that should make me more angry or less.
Our empress hasn’t glanced at the table I’ve taken with Bastien and Raul, keeping her own sense of caution. But when I let my gaze flick over to her, she’s looking toward our younger foster brother with a brief frown.
Her concerned expression vanishes the moment she turns back to her husband, but I study Neven in turn. I rode with the prince of Goric for half the day yesterday, and he barely spoke to me.
Now he looks talkative enough, laughing at something his musician companions said and blushing when he replies. There’s a sly gleam in his eyes, and his smile is wide enough, but something about his stance looks guarded to me. As if he’s braced for an unexpected threat.
I communicate my observations to my other foster brothers with a few subtle movements of my hands. The kid looks happy and worried.
Raul lets out a huff, peering over my shoulder toward Neven. He speaks in a low mutter. “What’s he got to be worried about? All he’s done since we left Vivencia is revel with his new friends and lover. You’d think he doesn’t care about the rest anymore.”
Bastien’s mouth tightens. He wasn’t happy about Neven’s interest in the imperial harpist even before it became fully requited. But really, I think we’d all dallied with someone at court at least a little by the time we were seventeen. Raul certainly didn’t wait long to establish his reputation in the bedroom as soon as at least a few of the noblewomen judged him close enough to manhood.
“The way he’s behaving now doesn’t fit with how he talked a few months ago,” Bastien says. “He’s pulling away from us again.” He pauses and then admits, “I don’t think it’s about getting caught up in a crush. Calvus doesn’t seem to be pushing for his attention, just accepting what Neven’s offering. Why is he focusing so much on a casual affair right now?”
I switch to my illusionary voice since I’m not sure how to express my full meaning in signs. “Maybe he feels like there isn’t anything else he can do that would be helpful? His gift isn’t very useful for subtleties.”
It’s hard to blame Neven if he’s chasing whatever escape he can find. I think we’ve all been grappling with the strain of having to support our empress in only the random bits and pieces we can assemble while we’re on the road. Having to keep our mouths shut and our attitudes obliging even when we’re in the kingdoms that are supposedly our real homes.
Bastien looked perpetually tense the entire time we were in Delphine, his shoulders never really coming down until we left Cotea’s capital behind. And Raul’s been acting all nonchalant, but I can’t help noticing he’s found something to punch—hard enough that he’s needed to bandage his knuckles again.
Somehow it was easier when Marclinus was attacking us directly—testing our emotional control, branding and battering our bodies. Watching him torment our families and the people we’re meant to protect is a higher level of horror.
Gods only know what he’ll inflict on Lavira after the recent uprising there.
I don’t think Raul wants to think about that. He sets his jaw. “We’ve got to be watching for every opportunity we can get to pave her way. He said he wanted to be a part of this. I’m sure he could pitch in more than he has so far.”
Bastien shoots the prince of Lavira a baleful glance. “I don’t think badgering him is going to accomplish much. But maybe…” His gaze slides to me. “You should talk to him, Lore. He won’t worry that you’re judging him. I think he’ll take an appeal driven by empathy better than one full of practicalities or bluster.”
Raul narrows his eyes in mock offense. “I can do a lot better than bluster.” He offers me a crooked grin. “But Bas has a point. If the kid’s being his typical stubborn self, you’re the most likely to get through to him.”
Apparently I’ve been appointed official foster-prince counsellor. My answering smile is equally slanted, but it warms me a little to have the chance to contribute in a way that feels more solid than an occasional illusion.
I answer with my hand. I’ll give it a shot.
It’s Marclinus who inadvertently manufactures the opportunity for me. He calls over the three musicians who’ve been traveling with us to discuss something about today’s entertainments, and Neven hangs back looking uncertain about his place. I amble over and beckon him to join me farther off by the line of carriages, putting more distance between us and the emperor’s guards.
Neven balks, but when I sign Please , he sighs and trudges with me as if I’ve called him to his execution. Was I this dramatic when I was a teenager?
Great God help me, I might have been worse. At least Neven has the same sense I did to hide his frustrations from Marclinus… for the most part.
When we come to a stop, I make a hasty gesture by my side. Are you all right?
Neven shrugs with a nonchalance that looks even more forced than Raul’s. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
You’ve been away from us a lot.
“Is that a problem? I’m allowed to have other friends and… whatever, aren’t I? Or did Bastien send you over because he thinks I’m in over my head or something stupid like that?”
The automatic defensiveness in his words sets warning bells off in my mind, but I keep my expression as mild as I can. I do the same with my voice when I switch to communicating through my gift.
“I wanted to talk to you because I care. We’ve been through a lot together, especially recently. You’ve seemed like you’re pulling away. It’s absolutely fine if you need to take a step back from what we were planning. It’s a lot to have weighing on you. But you can still talk to us about anything that’s bothering you.”
Neven’s shoulders hunch. I expect him to make a harsh retort about how we can’t do anything anyway, the kind of thing he was saying when we shut him out before, but instead he just shakes his head. His voice goes even quieter. “Nothing’s bothering me. I just wanted to take the chance to have a little fun. Why shouldn’t I?”
Even as he says the words, a muscle in his cheek ticks. I don’t think he’s as comfortable with the statement as he’s making out.
Calling him a liar obviously isn’t going to gain me any trust. “It’s good that you’re having fun. If you do want to pitch in with other sorts of things… we’re still working on it, and we’re happy to have your help. Either way, it’s your choice.”
He lets out a little snort in tandem with a guilty grimace that contradicts the derision of the sound. “Sure. It’s all up to me. That’s why everyone keeps pulling me in different directions rather than just leaving me be.”
Before I can answer, he pushes away from me and stalks back toward his musician companions. My stomach knots.
Who is this “everyone” he wants to leave him be? The other princes and I have been giving him the space he’s seemed to need over the past several weeks.
He doesn’t seem to be talking about the musicians, or he wouldn’t be so eager to get back to them. Did they say something to him that soured him to the plans we came up with before?
Has Marclinus pushed him around without us knowing?
Neven clearly didn’t want to open up to me about it, despite my best efforts. Maybe I shouldn’t have pressed him for answers at all. I might have made him feel worse.
All the things my mother has said to me over the years, compounded by her most recent remarks just weeks ago, come back to me with a jab through my chest. I didn’t know how to direct our younger foster brother, to guide him, like the ruler of an entire country would.
I’m too sentimental, getting caught up in my worries for him without being able to see past them.
In my frustration, my hands ball into fists. But what would I even hit if I let myself? All I can see are the ways lashing out would hurt our cause more.
Farther across the courtyard, Marclinus has stepped away from the musicians. He peers up at the sky where tufts of clouds have started to spread from the horizon, though the early autumn sun still beams down on us.
Aurelia is watching him with a serene expression but a hint of uncertainty I’m not sure anyone other than me would notice in her stance. Jealousy twangs through my nerves.
She has to dote on him if she’s going to win him over enough to turn the twins against each other. Any trick that can solidify her position against the two great enemies she now has instead of just one is a boon.
I’m not so caught up in my emotions that I can’t help her with every part of her purpose, am I?
The idea comes to me with a rush of resolve. It’s a little risky, but if I focus my gift just right…
I gather myself while Marclinus lifts his gaze higher. The moment he’s glanced almost directly upward, I picture a sharper flare of light streaking away from the sun, searing straight into his eyes.
It’s only an illusionary image—one I’ve conjured in the sky but narrowed to only his senses. One of his guards twitches at the same moment as Marclinus jerks backward with a flinch. As he brings his hand to his face, several of the nobles turn to stare.
“Everything all right, Your Imperial Majesty?” the guard asks with a brief glance around. She might have picked up on a whiff of my magic, but so much of it was directed at the space high above us rather than Marclinus himself that it mustn’t have felt anything like an attack.
Aurelia has hustled over to his side. As he lifts his head, she rests a gentle hand on his arm. “What’s the matter?”
I swallow down another prickle of jealousy.
This is what I wanted. This is what she needs.
Marclinus covers his lapse with a dry chuckle. “It must have been a trick of the light—or one of those blasted daimon playing a stupid trick. A sudden glare in my eyes. It’ll fade.”
Yes, let him blame the spirit creatures Dariu wants nothing to do with. His wife will know better.
Aurelia studies Marclinus more closely. She drops her voice, tipping her head toward the carriage, maybe offering him some cure to soothe any lingering pain. To further prove her devotion.
But as I expected, the woman I love is canny enough to realize what must have happened. She doesn’t risk looking my way, but as she loops her arm with Marclinus’s to glide back to their vehicle, her other fingers curl at her side in a signal no one else in view could read.
Well done.
So there. I’m more than just a bunch of emotional impulses and a bleeding heart. I can do the hard thing when it helps the people I hold dear.
And that’s a good thing, because I suspect I’m going to have to do a lot more hard things before we’ve seen our journey through.