Page 20 of Poisoned Empire

“Excellent. Then we will have our guards escort you back to your rooms. The ball will commence shortly. We expect you to play your parts,” Nicephorus warned as he rose, bidding them to do the same.

Chapter 8

Ilianahadnearlyperishedas Selene had addressed the prince without regard to manners—or survival. She had envisioned their deaths at least a half-dozen times during the short negotiations. Instead of losing their heads, Selene had ruthlessly demanded more than an emperor’s ransom in compensation. Iliana was reassured knowing her half-sisters would be safe now. But as Selene whispered when they were out of earshot of the guards escorting them, perhaps she herself was less so.

“We need help very badly. They’re not offering mountains of gold as a gesture of generosity for our time, its fucking hazard pay! You think the magister isn’t going to be ready for war the second he hears you’re getting married to some lofty right-hand snob of the prince? If he comes to Nadioch, you had better believe we’ll be in more danger than ever. A monster like him is going to assume you’re attaching yourself to someone powerful in order to outmanoeuvre him. If I were you, I’d get a number of blades sharpened and be ready to run.”

“Then why did you ask for mountains of gold and a ship?”

“Because they needed to think we wouldn’t run until it got dangerous. What we need to do is prepare to run wellbeforethe magistri come to marry us off.”

She kept this in mind as the beast mage named Marduk approached and kissed her hand before asking her to dance. When he led her to the floor, the couples around them did their best to shy away. Iliana smiled. At least she would have a dance partner she could look up to. And what an intimidating sight he was—seven feet at a guess, with horns and claws. His fangs were visible when he spoke, but it was his bold, rugged features, closely cropped dark curls and thick limbs of corded muscle that had her heart fluttering.

“I must confess that my dancing skills are rusty.” He ground out the admission, a blush heating his tanned, olive-toned skin.

She nearly forgot her step.

“Well, I must confess that I didn’t even know how to dance like this until a few months ago. I’m sure your knowledge of footwork with a blade in hand will help.”

“And why would you say that?” he asked, his tone menacing.

She almost flinched.No, she reminded herself,no more cowering. As Selene had told her many a time, showing fear only whet the appetite of monsters. Iliana straightened her spine and forced herself to stare the enormous man in the eye.He’s just like a grumpy client. A grumpy, rugged, very strong client.

“Because you have seven excellent blades on your person, and I can only assume it’s because you know how to use them.”

His thick, dark brows went from thunderous to shocked.

“I keep looking at you and assuming you’re a proper noblewoman, but neither of you are anything of the sort. She said the same damn thing at dinner. Have I really fallen so far that little girls can spot my knives and make sport of me?”

Iliana hated it when someone called her a little girl. ‘Little’ had stopped being accurate after she’d turned nine, and the days of her girlhood had died with her mother and adoptive father. She was a master craftswoman, better than any man she knew, and she was sick unto death of everyone underestimating her.

“I am no little girl, and I can spot your knives because I’ve been taught to do so, Strategos. I can tell you that the knife at your shin requires a good sharpening, the one at your right hip is of the highest quality ore, and the one up your left sleeve has been enchanted poorly. I can tell you that because I am a master metals mage. You underestimate me at your own peril.”

He closed whatever distance there had been between them, his hand hot and possessive on her back. Iliana truly felt it would be safer to flee from such palpable interest. She wished it were just a case of Selene’s moxie rubbing off on her, but she had only her stupid temper to blame.

“Perhaps our time together will be more interesting than I’d assumed,” he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine.

His eyes pierced through her like one of his daggers. As he pinned her with that stare, she realised his eyes weren’t black, but intensely dark green. A hand on her shoulder broke the spell.

“If I may?” asked Nicephorus.

He was polished and blinding in his white and green robes, the red sash pallium resting perfectly on his shoulders. Marduk nodded and handed her over to the Praetor.

“Until next time, master mage.” Marduk winked.

Before she could figure out if he was being sarcastic or sincere, Iliana was swept away into the next dance by a man who knew precisely where to place his feet.

“I hope my friend has not frightened you overmuch.”

“Oh, no. I’m fine, thank you.”

His smile was both attractive and comforting. Safe.

“Please find it in your heart to forgive him. Being the strategos has left him very good at commanding men, but maybe less so at making small talk with young noblewomen.”

“To which young noblewoman are you referring, Praetor?”

His smile was a balm on her tattered nerves. When he wasn’t busy interrogating her or dictating good manners, he could be quite handsome. If he held her a little closer than the dance called for, she didn’t complain.

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