Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aurelia
I t’s hard to imagine what my parents or my sister would say if they found out I spent my eighth day in my betrothed’s presence playing croquet on the lawn while utterly naked before him and his entire court.
I’d like to think they’d take one look at the scene and whisk me away, out of Dariu and Marclinus’s sights forever. I know Father’s voice would reverberate with rage, that Mother would look sick with horror, that Soreena would happily throw herself between me and all those prying eyes.
But in the end, they’d leave me here, wouldn’t they? They’d mourn the better husband they hoped I’d have, they’d weep and rant to each other in the privacy of the family castle, but they wouldn’t risk the destruction of our entire line by openly defying Emperor Tarquin.
I’m a piece in the game, and that’s all I’ve ever been meant to be. It’s just not quite the game any of us were expecting.
As we sprawl on picnic blankets sipping wine and then stroll amongst the garden beds with Marclinus roving between “his” ladies like a bee from flower to flower, I hold on to one kernel of comfort. The guards have removed Jovitte’s corpse and splashed water to rinse away the blood, but this trial has already claimed a life.
If the rest of us suppress our modesty for the rest of the day and let the imperial heir ogle us at his leisure, then we’ll all survive. The last couple of trials, he’s only culled those who made overt mistakes from the competition.
Rochelle and I can look forward to discovering what fresh torments he’ll have in store for us tomorrow.
That doesn’t mean today’s torments are over. When we head into the dining room to await dinner, Marclinus sprawls in his gilded chair and motions me over. “I’d like to spend a little more time up close with each of my ladies.”
As I approach, tamping down my trepidation, he grasps my hand with a tug. He expects me to cuddle up on his lap like I’ve watched Bianca and a few of the other court ladies do in the past.
My stomach churns, but I paste on a smile and sink onto his outstretched legs.
Elox, let me be as serene and steady as stone.
Marclinus teases one hand into my hair while the other traces across my pelvis from one hip to the other, just inches above my sex. If I were any less deep in my distant reverie, the muscles would have twitched as if trying to repel him.
Is this how it’ll always be? Will he see his wife as nothing but a toy?
His attitude could change with marriage. With familiarity and the chance for me to speak a little more freely once my position is somewhat secure.
But as he flicks his thumb over the peak of my breast with a chuckle of amusement, the flame of hope I’ve kept stoking nearly gutters out.
He only plays with me for a few minutes before calling Leonette over to replace me. I barely feel my legs as I return to my seat. I’m not just pulled back deep inside my body but hollowed out.
It’s almost over. We’re almost through.
The other members of court chatter away through Marclinus’s lecherous display as if there’s nothing horrifying about it. Emperor Tarquin’s expression holds a trace of disdain, but so mild that might be wishful thinking on my part. He’s certainly made no moves to interrupt his son’s behavior.
Dinner tastes like ash on my tongue. When the dessert dishes are cleared, Marclinus stands and announces that we’ll dance in the ballroom until the sky is completely dark.
Of course. It’s not nightfall yet.
In the vast room across the hall, the regular court musicians strike up an energetic tune. The imperial heir takes each of us for a turn around the dance floor but seems content to see other partners lead us through the motions while he’s occupied.
Each of the noblemen who approaches me keeps his hands very carefully only on mine, not straying too close to the rest of my body. But their gazes drop to my naked form at least as often as they’re peering back into my eyes.
My feet follow the steps I know. I check the hue of the sky every time I swing past one of the windows.
Then the music dips into a brief lull between songs, and I find Prince Raul looming over me, claiming my hand .
All day, I’ve ignored the princes as well as I can. There’s no avoiding the most imposing of them right now.
I set my jaw and lift my feet with the first swell of the new melody.
I’ll give him this—Raul looks only into my eyes, not once gawking at my unclothed form farther down. The sear of his pale blue gaze somehow makes me feel twice as naked.
I fix my own attention in the vicinity of his chin.
We haven’t spoken since the night I was sick—when he insisted on helping me with the garlic for my potion. When he seemed to be arguing in favor of getting help even when Bastien was hesitating.
Where do I stand with him now?
Apparently, that night’s events didn’t temper his seductive inclinations at all. After a minute of silence, he speaks in the low, husky tone that’s shivered through my nerves before. “I’d tell you that you look lovely, but I don’t think that’s my place.”
Tonight, my nerves are too raw for me to feel anything but irritation at his overtures. “Funny, that didn’t seem to stop you from saying much more brazen things before.”
“Before, we were on equal footing.” We step apart with a bob of the dance, and he catches my opposite hand. His head dips closer to mine. “A woman like you deserves a man who wouldn’t flaunt your body for everyone to see. Who’ll treat it like the treasure it is.”
Is he implying that he’d be that man?
I manage to swallow the burst of hysterical laughter that bubbles up my throat, but my eyes snap up to stare into his.
My voice comes out equally low but tart. “I’m well aware. How do you propose I fix that problem? Are you going to act out all the promises of pleasure you made to me right here in front of Marclinus? ”
Raul’s smoldering expression stutters. “Are you asking me to?” he says, but his provocative tone is edged with sudden uncertainty.
“I’m not an idiot. I simply thought I should remind you just how powerless you are here, since you thought I’d enjoy having you do the same for me. Or is it not all that fun to have salt rubbed in a wound after all?”
Raul opens his mouth and closes it again. I think this is the first time I’ve seen him lost for words, whether angry or seductive.
Anger comes first, with a roughening of his tone. “I never offered to rescue you, Lamb.”
Maybe this is a mistake, rebuffing his advances. But I’m too wrung out right now to care.
I’ve gotten two of his foster brothers to warm up to me. Who says I need Raul’s help too?
“No,” I reply as the melody peters out. “You offered me an alternative that’s not really an alternative at all, just a sham of passion. You’ll have to forgive me if I decline.”
I leave him staring at me, his face flushed and his jaw tight.
I drift through two more dances before the view beyond the window shows total blackness. Marclinus motions for the musicians to stop. A row of maids appears by the doorway, each of them clutching a dress for us.
With the remaining threads of my self-restraint, I stay where I am rather than dashing over to claim mine from Melisse. Marclinus rubs his hands together with a self-satisfied air, as if he’s immensely pleased with how the latest trial has gone.
Well, why shouldn’t he be? He got everything he wanted from us.
I ready myself to walk calmly over to the waiting maids on his dismissal. Once I’m moving at all, it’ll be harder not to dash.
The imperial heir sweeps his gaze over us once more, an arrogant grin playing with his lips. “Today has given me plenty of opportunity to consider all the assets my potential brides possess. Unfortunately, not all of them are quite as pleasing to my tastes as the others.”
Emperor Tarquin speaks up from his chair. “A factor their elders surely should have considered before putting them forward as candidates.”
My spirits start to sink. We aren’t through with the trial after all. Is he really going to cut down our number again over something as out of our control as his physical preferences?
What if he’s decided my scars repulse him after all?
“Yes,” Marclinus says, so cheerful about it I’d like to strangle him. “A grave oversight that speaks to selfishness and lack of consideration for one’s rulers. I must eliminate the least suitable of you now. I’m afraid you should have known there could never have been any passion between us, Lady Rochelle.”
My heart plummets so swiftly it might crash through the floor. A sound like a whimper escapes my friend where she’s standing beside me.
A guard strides toward us, drawing his sword just like the one who slaughtered Jovitte this afternoon.
In a matter of seconds, it’ll be Rochelle crumpling in a spray of her own blood.
No. I can’t let it happen. I can’t make my peace with this act.
The guard moves to brush past me, and my voice bursts from my throat. “Wait! ”
The guard’s steps falter. He pauses with a flick of a glance toward me and then a questioning look at Marclinus.
The imperial heir studies me with a bemused expression. No one’s outright protested any of the executions before, have they?
He speaks in his usual careless tone, but a silky note of warning runs through it. “What reason do you have for concern, Princess Aurelia?”
I thought I’d been overly ogled all day, but nothing compares to the pressure of the gazes burning into me now from all around the room. The whole court is waiting to see what I’ll say, whether I’m going to call the blade to my neck as well.
What in the realms can I say?
I drag in a careful breath to delay my answer, my gaze flitting across the room as if I might find an answer there. It snags on Prince Bastien’s sallow face where he’s staring from the sidelines.
The answers he gave last night come back to me in a jumble. How a person could escape the palace. They’d need a collaborator to smuggle them out .
If there’s a way that I can bring Rochelle with me, right under the emperor’s nose…
The rustle of the dresses in the maids’ arms sets off a collision of ideas in my head. My pulse skips with momentary exhilaration.
But I’m going to have to sell the proposal with a pitch perfectly tailored to the man hearing my appeal.
I don’t feel right trying to curtsy nude, but I bow my head low with a similar positioning of my arms, figuring that can’t hurt my case. “I apologize for interrupting, Your Imperial Highness. It’s only, I think I might be able to suggest an even better punishment for Lady Rochelle’s failure.”
An eager gleam lights in Marclinus’s eyes. That remark has caught his attention.
He crosses his arms in front of him. “And what would that be?”
I give a sheepish laugh as if I’m a bit embarrassed by my boldness. “It’s selfish, I’ll admit. But it could serve both our purposes. I’m used to having multiple maidservants to call on. I’m not sure I’ve been able to present myself to you at my best while relying on one. Lady Rochelle has shown a keen eye for apparel. I’d be grateful to exploit her skill more directly, without the effort of feigning friendship. What if Lady Rochelle died and became Rochelle the maid?”
He needs to believe I couldn’t possibly be making this request out of compassion rather than cruelty, that any evidence that I cared about her was merely a ploy. Please, let my act work.
A brief noise of consternation is muffled somewhere in the crowd behind me. Maybe Rochelle’s father, who might actually think that seeing his daughter stripped of her title and status is worse than watching her murdered.
I’m sure Marclinus can’t conceive of a humiliation much worse than having to serve the people who were once your equals. He’d probably choose death first.
He taps his finger against his lips near his scar. “And you wouldn’t be worried about keeping around a woman who also had her aims set on me?”
I force a haughty chuckle, keeping my gaze fixed on him. Not letting myself look at Rochelle even though she’s right next to me, her arms wrapped tightly around her belly now.
I can’t let him see how much I actually care about her. I can’t bear to witness how she’s reacting to the way I’m talking about her.
“How could I see her as a threat?” I ask. “You’ve just said you feel no passion at all for her. And I can’t imagine you wanting a passionless partnership.”
“True. Very true.”
My heart thuds as Marclinus ponders the proposition. He shifts his attention to Rochelle. “What do you have to say about this, Lady Rochelle? Would you accept Princess Aurelia’s offer and live on as her maid?”
My breath catches in my throat, but Rochelle gives him exactly the answer he needs to hear.
She bends into a pleading posture, her voice hoarse. “Please, Your Imperial Highness, let me receive my rightful execution with honor. To face that degradation, and from a supposed friend who’s proven herself so false…”
Her voice breaks with a wobble.
A triumphant expression crosses Marclinus’s face. “No one here should be getting off easy, especially those who’ve disappointed the imperial line. How clever was my princess to come up with such a fitting punishment? Princess Aurelia, she is yours.”
I bob my head again, restraining the majority of my relief. “Thank you, Your Imperial Highness. You are so generous to those who earn your favor.”
He wipes his hands together. “I am, aren’t I?”
When I lift my gaze, Rochelle is still cringing by my side. Fausta’s glare would be stabbing straight through me if it got any sharper.
And Prince Lorenzo has moved within my view, his dark face taut with revulsion.
I smile at all of them as winningly as I can while an ache wraps around my heart. How much more hatred have I earned with an act I meant out of kindness?