Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Aurelia
L anterns glow throughout the dusk-draped palace gardens. Some shine a natural fiery amber, while others gleam imperial purple or Esterean green.
The illumination catches on the multi-colored finery of the court nobles, turning the gardens into a rainbow of both flowers and fabric. Music winds around the hedges and fountains as feet prance and skirts swirl.
As we carry on our own dance, Marclinus adjusts his grasp on my fingers and slides his other hand down from my waist to my hip. His gray gaze bores into me with unnerving intensity. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen his grin quite this manic.
His voice is all jaunty exuberance. “Isn’t it a wonderful night for a celebration? I think it’s all the better that we had a brief delay.”
I paste my smile even more firmly in place, restraining a cringe when he reaches around to paw at my ass. “It is indeed a lovely atmosphere and a worthy celebration.”
My husband has been in a particularly jovial mood since dinner last night after the confirmation rite. His hand never left my thigh throughout the meal, and he ushered me straight back to my bedroom afterward, barely waiting to get through the door before he was on me.
If his drug-induced absence from the regular evening activities was noted by his court, no doubt they saw enough of his lustful enthusiasm not to suspect anything worse than an extended romp in my bed.
The celebration of our—well, mostly his—success with the rite has continued through today. We spent the morning and afternoon parading around the capital’s streets and squares with Marclinus soaking up his people’s adoration as palace staff distributed food and wine.
While most of the city folk’s attention was on their emperor, I received some respectful nods and eager words of greeting myself—more than on my previous ventures into the city. I only noticed a couple of warding gestures, one of which was followed by a neighbor telling the doubter off.
My demonstration has warmed the citizens to me at least a little.
Tonight is dedicated to a celebration in court. Yesterday’s humidity has left the palace stuffy, so Marclinus ordered us all out into the darkness of the gardens. The lawns and paths are serving as our ballroom.
This is the third dance he’s claimed with me so far, each time equally leering and enraptured. I have the impression he’s tracking every flick of my eyes, every twitch of my muscles.
What he’s searching for, I’m not entirely sure. But given how often his hands have strayed to my breasts and ass, I suspect I don’t have much longer before he drags me off to my chambers again.
Apparently victory riles up all his appetites. If a simple confirmation rite energizes him this much, Great God help me if he ever manages to reclaim the western half of the continent.
In the brief lull between songs, he kisses the back of my hand, followed by my wrist, leaving my skin crawling. Then, to my relief, he releases me. “I’ll find you again soon.”
I’m not sure if that’s a promise or a warning.
One of the elder marchions approaches me, and I take his offered hand. He’s old enough to be my grandfather, and the wary glance he aims after my husband suggests he won’t take the slightest risk of overstepping politeness.
As we step to the newly rising melody, he smiles benevolently down at me. “I have many years behind me, but this is the first time I’ve seen our ruler’s consort complete the divine rite. You’ve come from Accasy with interesting ideas.”
I keep my stance relaxed, though my chest has tightened up. “I want all the people of the empire to have every confidence in me after their sudden loss.”
“An admirable goal. It’s reassuring to all of us to see that at least one of the godlen approves of you too, especially when Marclinus has no heir as yet.” The marchion peers down at me with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “I expect you’ll be helping him with that before long.”
Better not to mention that at the moment, the thought of carrying anything to do with Marclinus inside me provokes a full-body shudder.
I dip my head modestly. “I look forward to helping the imperial line continue with all expected strength.”
Sometime possibly years in the future when I can stomach it .
I think I’ve made a little progress with my husband already. It’s hard to tell with his shifting moods, though.
I’m not at all sorry to see the dance end. When I turn around, considering whether I can get away with retreating to the fringes of the party, Raul is standing waiting for me.
The prince offers a deferential bow, but there’s a teasing gleam in his pale blue eyes. “Your Imperial Highness, would you do me the honor of a dance?”
I can hardly refuse him without people wondering why.
I accept his hand, and he sets the other on my waist—with much more care than Marclinus offered. He leaves plenty of space between us as if he assumes his presence isn’t all that welcome.
Raul might be hotheaded, but he isn’t stupid.
As he tugs me deeper into the crowd of dancers, I feel the need to say something anyway, in a low voice no one else will be able to make out over the music and chatter. “Remember that we barely know each other. He’s been watching closely.”
Raul hums and spins me around with a twist of his hand. The paler scars that crisscross his knuckles gleam in the lanternlight.
A teasing note creeps into his voice too. “I’ll be nothing but a gentleman to my empress.”
I restrain myself from glowering at him, as much as I long to lean into his embrace. “I mean it. I don’t like the mood he’s in.”
“I’ve been enduring my imperious foster brother’s moods for many years longer than you have. I can navigate them well enough.” He caresses my palm with the subtlest stroke of his thumb, sending a flicker of heat down my arm. “I’m supposed to begin your combat lessons soon. He’ll have to tolerate me being a little close to you.”
“That’s not why I suggested them.”
“Of course not. I appreciate any time I get to spend with you, however impersonal. Given what that prick of a soldier tried with you yesterday, we should probably fit in your first lesson before you’re setting off for the next confirmation rite.”
The memory of the lunging soldier chills me. “Yes. We have a few days for that. And I also need to know everything there is to find out about that second rite—Prospira’s.”
Raul’s gaze turns slyer. “I know at least one or two minds that could be put to that task on your behalf.”
We lapse into silence, all of my attention narrowing down to the warmth of his skin against mine, the tiny gestures of affection he manages to offer, and preventing my expression from reacting to any of them.
“There,” he says as the melody starts to wind down. “All we had was a dance. No catastrophes.”
“I’m not sure it was wise to risk it regardless.” My gaze flicks to the nobles around us, but thankfully I don’t spot any suspicious expressions. “It’s a difficult balance to maintain.”
“Ah, but I’m meant for that, you know, even if I haven’t been the best example of balance so far.” Raul grins. “Lavira is the central hub of this half of the continent, after all. My mother used to say that our kingdom is the conductor of one vast dance, coordinating communication and trade back and forth with our neighbors, following each other’s cues and pace. I can manage to match yours when it’s for such a great reward.”
He doesn’t press his luck. When the song fades, he gives my fingers the slightest squeeze and steps away with another bow. “Thank you for indulging me, Your Imperial Highness.”
I need a little space to cool the secret passions he’s stirred up in me. As casually as I can manage, I wander over to one of the tables that’s been set up with bottles of wine and goblets.
I let the server pour a fresh glass for me and wait for one of the imperial tasters to sample the glass before taking a sip of my own. The rest of the court frolics before me, but I can’t help picturing the wilder lands of the terrain outside the main Accasian palace.
How much would I give to wander away into those vast woods and let their cool, deep serenity wash over me? Even the forested part of the imperial palace grounds is too cultivated to stir quite the same sense of peace.
My roving gaze snags on a head of shaggy auburn hair by the large fountain nearby, highlighted by a nearby lantern. All thoughts of home vanish.
I haven’t had a chance to speak to Bastien since he leapt to my defense yesterday. How long might it be before I get a better chance to do so without being overheard?
As if simply taking a stroll, I meander past the table, around a garden bed, and end up standing before the fountain next to the bench Bastien is sitting on. I study the marble statue of Sabrelle striking down a foe, admiring the artistry.
My guards will have followed me, but from their usual discreet distance. No one else has wandered within several paces of this spot. The warble of the water will prevent my voice from carrying.
I watch Bastien from the corner of my eye. He’s still gazing straight ahead, away from the fountain, but his shoulders have gone rigid.
All the words I’d like to say clot in my throat. It’s a moment before I can pull together a coherent comment.
“I was starting to think you’d enjoy seeing my throat cut. I’m glad that’s not the case after all.”
Bastien’s jaw ticks. His voice comes out low and flat. “Even if I wanted to hate you, it seems I’m not very good at it anymore. What do you want from me now, Aurelia?”
It’s a strange relief to hear him say my name so informally after all the “Your Imperial Highness”-ing I’ve faced, even if the phrasing of the question stings.
I reach my hand out to let the cool water lick over my fingers. “I was only hoping to thank you properly. I know… the choices I’ve made might have been difficult to accept, but I’d like you to be able to make peace with them. I’ve only ever done what I thought was the best for the most people.”
“So you’ve convinced Raul and Lorenzo.” He pauses. “Taking on the rite was impressive. It was harder for you than it was for Marclinus, wasn’t it? You looked as if you had to think your way through it.”
“He went in with more preparation.”
“But you mastered it anyway. It seems you really can do just about anything you set your mind to.” Bastien adjusts his position on the bench. “I was dancing with you when the recent ‘tragedy’ happened. How did you pull that off, if you really did?”
I don’t need to ask what he means by “that.” The instant when Tarquin fell, the smoldering fury in Bastien’s gaze in the moments before, is seared into my memory.
Of course, out of all the princes, he’d be the one who needs to understand the practicalities before he can fully accept it. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.
I resist the urge to rub my ring. “The trinket you once stole was valuable to me for more than its gold and gem. It was carefully crafted as a subtle delivery vessel for… potions. And I’m sure you’re aware that a gift can be skewed away from its most essential purpose if you simply focus it in the right way.”
Like convincing my gift for concocting cures that I’d need to put a man into a paralytic fit to heal him, after which it was only a matter of increasing the concentration.
A rough chuckle escapes Bastien. “You knew you’d go that far before you ever left Accasy. ”
It isn’t a question. I think he believes me now.
I answer him all the same. “Everything was prepared well in advance.”
“You never gave any sign of your full intentions.”
“And you know that I can be very determined about what I reveal or don’t.”
Bastien swipes his hand past his mouth in a jerky motion. “It was stupid of me to forget that. To stake all our lives on a situation I so hugely misjudged—even more than with Pavel— Hope can be a dangerous thing, can’t it? But obviously you have your own sense of duty. I suppose seeing us killed would have been an acceptable sacrifice to the greater good.”
The anguish in his voice sends a lance of guilt through my heart. I have to hold my gaze on the fountain through sheer force of will. “I didn’t think I was putting you in danger. I never would have wanted to. I assumed you’d leave on your own, that no one would have a chance to catch on.”
“Oh.” Bastien’s silence stretches too long for comfort. “It wasn’t worth everything we’d be giving up if we left without you. Although maybe that’s where I was the most stupid. I thought?—”
He falters again, and this time he doesn’t go on.
I can’t leave him sounding so miserable. “What?”
“You had everything a woman could want between Lorenzo and Raul. You only needed me because I’m the one who calls most of the shots. I let the pretense go to my head—I let my heart override my mind… Stupid.”
My throat constricts. He can’t really think what he seems to be saying, can he? “Bastien, it wasn’t a pretense with you any more than the others. I?—”
He pushes to his feet abruptly, cutting me off. “You don’t need to keep pretending. It’s less painful if you don’t. ”
He strides off in the opposite direction toward a cluster of tall hedges even farther from the rest of the court.
A vise seems to have clamped around my entire torso. To have caused him that much pain already, over an assumption that isn’t even true?—
I only manage to hold myself back for a couple of heartbeats before I’m swiveling on my feet. They carry me toward the hedges at the most leisurely pace I can restrain them to.
Bastien must hear me approaching. As I veer around the first of the hedges, he spins where he’s stopped deeper in the shadows.
His voice drops to a harsh whisper. “What are you?—?”
I only have a matter of seconds before my guards will follow closely enough to observe me. I propel myself across the last few steps toward him, grasp the front of his shirt, and kiss him with everything I have in me.
Bastien’s breath hitches, and then he’s kissing me back as if I’m the air he needs. I give myself over to the heated passion of our collision for one fleeting moment before I yank myself back.
Footsteps rasp beyond the hedge. Bastien’s eyes go wide. “You could have gotten yourself murdered.”
My fingers clench, the feel of his shirt lingering on them. “Hearing you talk like that makes me feel as if I’ve already died. I consider myself blessed that you were willing to take the chances you have for me, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make the best of this wretched situation for you as well as me… even if I don’t have much power yet.”
I don’t dare dally among the hedges any longer. I walk past him and weave on between the sculpted shrubs, back toward the dancers.
Coming up on the edge of the lawn, I pause to gather myself. When I wet my lips, they tingle from the kiss .
No one hurls any accusations. I got away with that brief lapse.
I just wish I didn’t feel so sick about refocusing my loyalties on the man who least deserves them.
After a couple of minutes, Bastien emerges amid the garden beds. He doesn’t look my way, but there’s something easier about his stance that melts a little of the ache inside me.
Marclinus saunters over to me with his mouth set in a smirk. I set the glass I’ve been carrying around with me down on the nearest planter, expecting that he’s coming to claim another dance.
Instead, he crooks his finger at me and tilts his head toward the palace. “Come with me, wife. There’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you and my foster brothers.”