Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
Bastien
I time my approach in the ballroom carefully, wanting to look as if I’m offering Aurelia my hand out of a sense of obligation rather than any real interest. The dance floor is one of the easiest places for us to speak in public, with her guards at a distance and the music covering our conversation.
Aurelia accepts my overture with a similarly polite expression, but her fingers squeeze mine with affectionate familiarity. I return the gesture, a subtle signal of the love we have to hide.
She’s been dipping and turning at a slower pace than usual. I match her tempo, watching for signs of pain. “Are you well tonight?”
Her smile looks a little tired. “I’m getting to experience all the aches and pains I was warned would come. They’re not too trying yet, but I think I’ll be off to bed early. It’s become harder to sleep comfortably.”
Frustration prickles over me that I can’t solve either of those problems, can’t even offer to tend to her directly. “Are there any ingredients you need for concoctions that would help? I’m sure I could manage to slip something or other to you.”
She gives her head a slight shake. “I’m well prepared. There are just some things you can’t completely soothe away. But we have less than two more months to go.”
I’d rather she didn’t have to endure those discomforts at all. Especially when I’m well aware that I’m more responsible for them than anyone else in this room.
I guide her in a careful rotation beneath my arm. “I suppose we’ll be heading back to Vivencia soon. We’ve had more than two weeks in Goric already.” We’ve lingered in other capitals longer, but surely Marclinus—either side of him—would rather not see his heir born away from Darium soil?
Aurelia’s faint grimace doesn’t look convinced. “I’m not sure. My husband has been making a lot of plans for things he’d like to see. The days when he’s more in a traveling mood… there’ve been issues cropping up with the carriages, the horses.”
A chill collects in my gut. I drop my voice even lower. “Do you think that’s been purposeful?”
“I can’t tell. And if it is, I don’t know who’s to blame. But some part of my husband certainly doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to leave.”
She keeps her tone light, but a thread of worry winds through her words. I can’t imagine how stressful—and potentially dangerous—it would be if she goes into labor while we’re on the road home, far from any palace comforts and the full host of imperial medics.
I have to will my grip to stay gentle around her hand. “I didn’t realize he enjoyed Goric so very much.”
Aurelia recovers her smile, but it’s tense around the edges. “It might not be so much what he enjoys here as what he would want to avoid at home.”
Gods help us, does she think Linus suspects that his twin is on the verge of doing away with him? Which he very well might be, if the remarks Marc has made to Aurelia are to be believed.
If that’s the case, how long will Linus try to hold out? Neven’s parents will hardly throw their emperor out of the city, but the court will start to murmur if we remain here much longer than we did any of the other countries in our tour.
“I’ll see if there’s anything we can do to speed our journey along,” I promise.
Her smile softens just for me. “Don’t put yourselves at risk attempting it. Some parts of this game we simply have to wait out.”
I don’t want to accept that as an answer, not when both her life and our child’s could hang in the balance.
I don’t think she does either—she’s simply trying to ease my worries by downplaying her own, as she so often does.
As my mind scrambles for the best way to light a fire under our emperor’s ass, the music winds down. Aurelia steps back from me, and her eyes brighten. “Neven’s finally been released to enjoy a little entertainment.”
I follow her gaze to the figure who’s just slunk into the room. Neven plants himself near the side table with its stack of wine goblets, his stance stiff as if he’s more uncomfortable than usual in the formal shirt and slacks he has on. He’s slicked his pale hair back from his face, making him look older than I’m used to—less like a kid.
We haven’t seen much of him in the past two weeks. Marclinus sent him to sleep in the soldiers’ quarters and join each rotation in the workouts that keep them fit and their instincts honed between stints on duty. He must have been eating his meals with them too.
I doubt the soldiers went easy on him, but after the way he lunged at the emperor, he’s lucky he isn’t dead . Does he realize he has Aurelia to thank for that, despite the insults he’s hurled at her?
I catch Lorenzo’s gaze and indicate our younger foster brother. He nods and must convey the message to Raul, because the three of us converge in our path toward Neven.
We have to find out what’s pushed him over the edge—and make sure he doesn’t cross that line again. I swore I wouldn’t see us lose another prince of Goric, and I don’t intend to break that vow.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear Neven is all that interested in talking to us. The second his gaze collides with mine, his posture goes even more rigid.
His eyes flick over the three of us approaching. He turns and marches right back out of the ballroom.
Shit. I glance at Lorenzo and Raul. An unspoken agreement passes between us, and we hurry into the hall after him.
Neven’s taken off at a good clip to get a head start on us, but there aren’t many places in the small imperial palace to go. We follow his brisk footsteps to the wing of guest bedrooms where our rooms were clustered together as usual.
When we come around the bend, his door is just thudding shut in his wake. The lock rasps over as if to emphasize his refusal.
I pause with a tangle of tension winding through my chest.
We’ve given him space for long enough. Too long, by the looks of it.
This particular stretch of hall is currently empty of guards. I motion to my foster brothers. “We’re not accepting no for an answer tonight.”
They stride over to Neven’s door at my heels. With a concentrated spurt of wind, I push the lock open.
As I shove open the door, Neven spins where he was standing by the desk at the far end of the room. His bright brown eyes darken with the clench of his jaw, but he doesn’t look surprised.
“Go away,” he snaps. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
We come in anyway, shutting the door firmly behind us. I scan him up close, noting the bruises on his face, a few scratches on his hands—some faded, some fresh.
How much of his stiff posture is because of uneasiness and how much lingering pain from the beatings he’s been put through? He might be nearly as big and brawny as Raul, but he’s faced little real combat. He won’t have stood a chance sparring with a horde of hardened soldiers.
I take another step toward him, evening out my voice as well as I can. Trying to channel the soothing tone I’ve heard Aurelia bring to bear so effectively. “We have at least a few things to say to you. Not least of all is that we’ve been worried about you. Have the medics treated all of your injuries? I’m sure Aurelia would be happy to?—”
Neven’s lip curls with a sneer. “I don’t want anything from her.”
Raul looms over him, his eyes flashing. “And you’ve made sure she knows it, but she’s still looking out for you . So let’s hear some respect instead of all this whining.”
Neven glowers at all three of us, but he shifts on his feet uneasily. I get the impression he’d rather run away again than have this conversation.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him. “I thought we were in this together, working to end all the madness Marclinus is dealing out. We’ve tried to keep you involved, but you’ve been dodging us for months.”
“Spending all his time with the musicians and getting drunk,” Raul mutters, in a tone I don’t think is going to mollify Neven.
Lorenzo adds his piece with a few emphatic gestures. We’re here. We’re family. We want to help.
“But what’s the point of any of it?” Neven bursts out. He halts, his face flushing in blotches, and then seems to gird himself to barrel onward. “Whatever you’ve been doing to stop Marclinus, he’s still been kicking everyone around—our families, our people. And we’re still bowing down to him. All Aurelia does is smile at him and hope if she says enough nice things, he’ll finally listen.” He sputters a laugh. “What’s there to respect?”
Raul slashes his arm through the air. “We told you it was going to take time. Do you really think throwing yourself at him like you were asking him to punt you over a cliff accomplished anything?”
Neven narrows his eyes. “At least I did something everyone could see. I showed my people I was ready to fight for them. If I can’t fight hard enough… then at least I know he won fairly. The imperial family has always overpowered us, haven’t they? They grabbed the top spot and held on to it. If no one can take it from them, they’ve earned it.”
Who’s been spewing that garbage in his ear?
I shake my head. “That’s not the only way people can fight. Aurelia has her own plans. We’ve made some progress.”
“What has your ‘progress’ actually changed? He’s only getting worse. I tried not to doubt—I tried to ignore what I could see, to drown it out—but it’s too much. Even the gods know that Aurelia isn’t strong enough.”
I stare at him, apprehension crawling down my spine. “Have you been getting dreams you think are from Sabrelle again?”
Neven snorts. “Dreams… You believe Aurelia’s visions are god-sent, but not anyone else’s? The strongest ruler wins. We have to see who that is. And if it’s Marclinus, then we’re better off supporting him and crushing anyone who doesn’t instead of getting ourselves crushed along with them. But I’m not done challenging him yet.”
Raul grabs the front of his shirt. “You’d better be.”
“Hey!” I step in, placing my hands on both of their chests to nudge them apart. “ We shouldn’t be fighting.”
I turn toward Neven. “We’ve talked about this. Aurelia can’t make a real claim on the throne until she’s the mother to an imperial heir—one that’s born and healthy. If she tries to push the issue now and topples Marclinus, she’ll have so many other parties to contend with who’ll want to force their case too.”
A momentary uncertainty flickers across Neven’s face. Then it hardens again. “Does she even know how she’s going to get rid of him once her baby is born?”
I can’t see how telling him that we’re expecting the emperor to essentially kill himself is going to result in anything other than disbelieving laughter… and the risk that he’ll ruin the whole plan by using the knowledge for his own ends. Nothing about what he’s saying sounds reasonable, no matter how fervently he’s declaring it.
He’s trying to be tough, but underneath all the bravado there’s still a scared little kid who’s seen too many of the horrors the empire can deal out.
Can I really tell him we’ll protect him?
A ghost of my father’s voice rises in the back of my head, chiding me for shying away from taking risks, for being too thoughtless in the ones I do. Frowning down his nose at me with all his years of disappointment.
What have I actually accomplished?
But as I stand there, meeting Neven’s accusing gaze, the resolve deep in the center of me turns to steel.
We wouldn’t be having this argument at all if we hadn’t made progress. A year ago, we were keeping our heads down, grumbling to each other and glaring at Marclinus behind his back but never daring to step more than a few inches out of line.
We’ve come so fucking far. Every day, the court mutters more about their emperor’s erratic whims. Every day, they look toward Aurelia with more hope. Every kingdom’s rulers have given some sign of recognizing her worth.
She’s gotten one half of the emperor eating out of her hand, and that’s all we need to overcome both when the time is right.
If Neven’s head has gotten too clouded to recognize the victories we’ve won behind the scenes, we’ll just have to make him see.
The determination seeps into my words. “She does. We’re ready. You just wait and watch. The empire wasn’t built in a day, and it won’t be won in a day either, but we will win it. In some ways, we already have.”
The “heir” in Aurelia’s belly that’s my child, not her husband’s. The promises he’s making to her to murder his psychotic twin. All the awed and grateful looks that’ve been aimed Aurelia’s way as we’ve traveled through both Dariu and the rest of the continent.
The throne is going to be ours for the taking. We’re so close now. We can’t lose sight of that just because our youngest ally has gotten overly impatient with the godlen of war murmuring in his ear.
Neven gapes at me for a second before he manages to shut his mouth. He makes a scoffing sound, but I hear less rancor in it than there was before.
“I’ll watch, but I’m not forgetting my own place,” he says. “Now will you leave me alone?”
Lorenzo’s brow knits with concern, but I don’t think we can push the prince of Goric any farther right now. I can only hope we’ve convinced him not to take any action more drastic than he already has.
And we have other concerns to see to if I’m going to carry out my promise.
I motion for the other two to follow me. Raul makes a disgruntled sound, but he stalks after me and Lorenzo into the hall and over to my own room.
“That fucking kid,” he growls, but I know he’s more worried than angry.
I touch his arm. “We’ll sort him out. But right now we need to sort out Marclinus first.”
Lorenzo’s eyebrows shoot up. He makes a brief gesture that amounts to What the fuck are you talking about?
I hesitate. Some of the possibilities spinning through my mind set off jitters through my nerves.
But that doesn’t mean they’re unwise.
I can take risks within my plans. Weave innovation into my practicalities. The caution that served me for so long and the creativity my family has venerated are both worthy tools, no matter how much they’ve derided one and I’ve shied from the other.
And it’s time to bring every tool in my arsenal to bear to get the woman we love home.
I set my jaw. “Before we can see Marclinus gone, we need to see Aurelia back to Vivencia. So it’s time to put our gifts to use convincing him it’s time to take to the road. We need to target him with our magic—obviously enough to affect him but carefully enough that his guards won’t realize.”
To my relief, no sign of doubt crosses my foster brothers’ faces. A matching determination lights in their eyes.
Now that I’ve taken charge, they’re waiting for me to lay out my full plan. The gears turn swiftly in my head. My heart thumps faster.
I turn to Raul. “Linus has gotten even more susceptible to paranoia. Any chance you get, conjure brief omens in the shadows that’ll suggest Vivencia is in danger without him. Close enough that he’ll definitely see them, but ideally only him.”
As Raul nods, I catch Lorenzo’s gaze. “He hates thinking he’s bowing to anyone else’s desires. You can’t easily project illusions directly at him, but you should be able to stir up nobles close enough for him to overhear. Look for chances to prompt them to talk about how glad they are he hasn’t sent them back on the road yet. We’ll have the side benefit of him acting more irritated with the court as well.”
Raul grins and bumps his shoulder against mine. “And what are you going to be doing, Your Highness?”
Despite my apprehension, the thought of my contribution to the imperial asshole’s discomfort makes the corner of my mouth tick upward. “I’m going to ensure he doesn’t get a moment without the winter chill blowing his way, until he’s craving the Darium sun.”