Page 67

Chapter Forty-Nine

Lorenzo

R aul grabs another patch of shadow, which solidifies into a thin ribbon in his grasp. “One more go?”

I nod, readying myself.

Raul flings the shadow ribbon like a whip, and I cast my gift alongside his. As I picture the shadow seeming to stretch longer and wider, it shifts before my eyes.

But not just as an illusion. Raul threw it toward the posts we set up as targets near the wall of the training room, aiming for only the one in the middle. The expanded swath smacks into two others on either side as well—and knocks them over.

We’ve accomplished the combined effect several times before, but seeing it in action still brings a breathless laugh to my throat. When we work our gifts together, my illusions can turn real—at least, when the illusion I’m conjuring is playing off what my foster brother is already wielding .

I grin at Raul as he lets the shadows dissipate. With matching enthusiasm, he bumps his shoulder against mine. “I wonder just how much shadow we could master if we really stretched ourselves?”

Aurelia’s voice carries from the other side of the room. “We’re not finding that out today. We won’t be finding it out at all unless the battle depends on it.”

I turn to meet her firm stare. The worry I can sense behind her deep blue eyes brings an ache into my chest.

She could see everything she’s worked for fall to ruin in the next few days, but she’s still doing her best to keep us safe. Still trying to ensure no one sacrifices more than they have to for her mission.

I can’t even imagine how much that battle is going to wrench at her no matter its final outcome. My wife isn’t made for war, even if she’s willing to grit her teeth and push through it.

I make a gesture of acquiescence alongside Raul’s huff of mock-disappointment. “We’ll play nicely,” he promises in a teasing tone.

We’ve been careful to only experiment with relatively small effects, partly to avoid any harmful consequences of merging gifts and partly so we don’t exhaust ourselves before we face the enemy.

Aurelia has needed to make similar considerations in different ways.

She returns to the form she was moving through with the Sabrelle-blessed sword, weaving the blade through a series of parries, feints, and stabs that looks graceful after all her practice.

She’s moving slowly, though, rather than risking more strain to her muscles and her recently healed arm.

Captain Evando frowns where he’s standing a few paces away to evaluate her process. “If all goes well, you shouldn’t need to use that sword at all. ”

“But that’s not something we should count on.” Aurelia lets out a ragged sigh and lowers the weapon. “Sabrelle will see that I haven’t forsaken her, even if she has me. I’m willing to honor the might and skills she champions, even if not exactly the way she’d prefer.”

“If she can’t tell that already, she’s an idiot,” Raul mutters, and then flicks his fingers through a hasty gesture of the divinities as if afraid his insult will make more trouble for our empress if he doesn’t atone.

Aurelia rolls her shoulders. “I think that’s enough training for today. It’s getting late, and I need to check on my brews.”

She slides the sword into the scabbard on the thick leather belt strapped around her waist—the same one she’ll wear when we ride out tomorrow.

Raul and I head to Aurelia’s chambers alongside her and her guards. After her announcement of our role in her life, no one dares to make a remark when we follow her right into her bedroom.

Marc stations himself by the door as usual. He doesn’t seem to have been able to shake his sense of himself as her guard first—or maybe he really is concerned that he’ll need to defend that doorway on her behalf.

Over near the desk, a couple of cauldrons are bubbling. An acrid herbal scent laces the air. Aurelia’s cat perches on a nearby trunk, eyeing them with apparent suspicion.

Bastien glances up from where he’s sprawled in a nearby armchair, a thick text open on his lap. “Do we have any dried osserfew? It seems as if that can be a key ingredient in certain paralytic potions.”

As she rests her sword on her vanity, Aurelia nods. “I’ve got a bag of it with my other supplies.”

Bastien glances back at the book, worrying at his lower lip. He’s been trying to contribute to Aurelia’s preparations however he can, but I don’t think there are many medicinal substances she’d be unfamiliar with.

Our empress moves to each of the cauldrons, sniffing and pausing to tap into her gift. She turns off the burner under both, giving one a stir and adding a sprinkling of pale powder to the other. “As soon as they’re cooled, we can bottle them.”

The saddlebag lying nearby is already stuffed with all sorts of ingredients. She wants to be ready to craft a concoction in the moment if the need arises.

I don’t want to think about how much she might sacrifice if she calls on any of us to enhance her magic with our own. I’m not sure any effort would feel like too far to her if she thinks it could turn the tide from tragedy to victory.

Even at her own expense.

One of the nursemaids has been waiting in Aurelia’s apartment as well. When Aurelia walks over to her, the servant gets up from her chair and holds out Coraya, who’s dozing.

Aurelia slides her arms around her daughter and tucks her close, dipping her head as if in an attempt to completely encompass the baby. The ache in my chest spreads up to my throat.

We’ve come so far, created so much of a family, and yet it feels as if we’re still on the brink of disaster, barely a bit of stable ground beneath our feet.

But I suppose completely overturning the course of a centuries-old empire could never be easy.

All the same, a pulse of determination pushes through the ache inside me.

The battle we’re charging into tomorrow could be the worst horror of Aurelia’s life. I want her to remember how far she’s come to get to this point—and how much she’s gained along the way. All the joys we’ve found in this life together that she can draw strength from no matter what else comes.

Aurelia cuddles Coraya for a few minutes longer and presses a kiss to the baby’s forehead. She hands her daughter back to the nursemaid, who bows and leaves the room.

Before our empress can suggest more preparations, I go to her and grasp her fingers. With my other hand, I make a quick sign in the air. Come with me?

Despite the stress tightening her expression, a hint of a smile touches her lips. “Where?”

I motion to the hidden panel in the walls and extend my illusionary voice so my foster brothers will hear my explanation as well. “A little walk, just the two of us. For old time’s sake.”

Marc’s posture pulls straighter. “She shouldn’t be going off without any guards at all?—”

I wave off his objection. “No one will even see her. We won’t be gone for long.”

As I meet his steely gaze, I aim a few more words only at him. “She needs this.”

The former emperor’s jaw works, but he backs down—mostly. “If she isn’t back here in an hour, we’re raising the alarm.”

I shrug in acceptance of his demand and tug Aurelia with me. Bastien’s and Raul’s gazes follow us, Raul’s mouth tensing, but they let us go.

We are a family, but we also know that sometimes we can each bring our wife something special on our own.

As I guide Aurelia into the secret passages, keeping my fingers twined with hers, she stays silent and allows me my secret.

I lead her to the unused bedroom that’s our most frequent entry and exit point.

Before we step out into the hall, I project an illusion around us that should hide us from the view of any passers-by .

Tension hangs over the entire palace. Even though it’s relatively early in the night, few nobles are ambling through the halls. No music spills from the hall of entertainments. The occasional voices I catch are low with strain.

We slip out into the back gardens. As we venture beyond the glow of the lanterns along the palace facade, I loosen my grip on my gift a little. It’s easier to conceal forms and movement in the darkness, as Raul well knows.

Only a little chill has entered the night air. I tuck Aurelia closer to me all the same, looping my arm around her waist.

We skirt the orchards until we reach one particular tree. As the silver-sheened leaves come into view, I feel Aurelia’s understanding in her intake of breath.

She tips her head close to kiss my cheek. “Where we first started down this path together.”

“I thought if there was any night to enjoy a twilight pumello, it’d be this one.”

I step away from her just far enough to snap off one of the gleaming white fruits that hang amid the wizened branches. Twilight pumellos produce their delicacy all year round, but only a handful across the year, which is part of the reason they’re so treasured.

Another part is the incredible flavor. I hold the supple, apple-sized treat to Aurelia’s lips so she can take the first bite. She offers me a sly smile that sends a jolt of desire straight to my groin before digging her teeth in.

It was by this tree where I first dared to kiss her. Where she first accepted my affections, for however short a time she dared back then.

When I take a bite of my own, the mix of caramel sweetness and lemony sharpness brings those memories even more vividly to the forefront of my mind. I chew slowly and then draw Aurelia to me so I can kiss her again.

Our mouths meld together, provoking a soft sound in her throat that has me hard in an instant.

I have the sudden wild impulse to take her right against this tree amid its glimmering leaves—but I could hardly enjoy it knowing the guards on the grounds might stumble on us or while concentrating on creating an illusion to hide us.

And Aurelia, as always, is thinking beyond just the most immediate pleasures. After our lips part, she touches my cheek and smiles like there’s nothing beyond this night. “We should bring back a few for the rest of my husbands. A treat like this ought to be shared with the whole family.”

I can’t argue. Her natural generosity is just one of the many reasons I fell in love with this woman against all practicality.

I kiss her again, long and hard, and turn to snap off three more of the colorless fruits. There’ll only be a few left when we’re done, but the empress can take whatever she wants from the palace.

And what does it really matter if the yield is diminished? This may be the last chance any of us have to taste something so sweet.