"So..." Julianus brushed a light finger over her shoulder. "Are you going to tell me about your brother?"

Cassia sighed, pillowing her chin on her crossed forearms. She opened one eye and frowned. What he'd finished moments ago had left her in a haze of pleasure and she didn't want anything to ruin it.

But she had promised she would explain.

His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, almost sleepy, but the softness of his expression didn't match the keenness of his gaze. She closed her eyes again, muttering a few choice words under her breath that made him chuckle. After a few more moments, she sat up.

Julianus stayed where he was, splayed diagonally across the mattress. He reached past Cassia and snagged one of the pillows, stuffing it under his head as he looked at her. His hair was mussed and a small bruise was darkening on his collarbone, right beside his scar.

"Marcus..." she hesitated. Then she rolled her eyes and lay back down, resting her head on his abdomen. "He thought that you were the best man to send to Antelium. That you would keep Malitech from making it all a bloody mess."

Silence fell heavy on the room. Julianus inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. She could hear the echo of his heartbeat as she waited for his response.

"And you?" he asked quietly. "What do you think, Your Highness?"

Cassia traced a line down his bicep, pausing at the scar just over his elbow. "I thought he was right. Which was why I came to the meeting and...pushed my father toward sending you. Why I said those things about you." She worried at her lip, then said, "I didn't mean them."

"Oh, Princess," he sighed before letting out a small laugh. "We started this game telling each other a single truth. I would ask you don't start lying now."

Sitting up, she stared down at him in confusion. Julianus gave her a gentle smile before cupping a hand around the back of her neck and tugging her down into a long kiss. Finally, he released his hold just enough so she could look him in the eye as he said, "War dog. Blood-mongering beast."

She flinched minutely as he threw those words back at her. 

Julianus brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. "I am both of those things, and you know it. That is why Marcus is sending me. That is why you are sending me. That is why I am going."

Shaking her head, she started to protest, but her voice grew unbearably small beneath the weight of his gaze. "Was Marcus wrong to think that you could keep Malitech from slaughtering the entire city?" she finally whispered.

With a snort, Julianus shrugged a single shoulder. "What is it, exactly, you expect me to do if he orders just that?"

It became impossible to meet his gaze. He sat up, cocking his head. "Do you expect me to disobey, Princess? Do you know what they do to soldiers who disobey orders? Do you know what they do to generals who refuse to carry through an attack?"

Her lips formed the words, but she couldn't bear to say them. The image they provoked was far too ugly.

"I think you do," he said, leaning back. "Will you become disillusioned when I can't stop your bastard brother from doing anything?"

"I thought we had agreed not to lie," she managed, throat dry. A clock chimed in the other room, making her nearly jump out of her skin. "I have to go."

Julianus caught her wrist and, reluctantly, she met his gaze. A grimness she'd never seen before tugged at his mouth. "I will do what I can," he promised, "but my first responsibility is to my men, Your Highness."

All she could do was nod. Julianus let her go, then helped her with the laces of her dress. Cassia fixed her hair as best she could and left his rooms without another word, sinking deep into thought over what he'd just said.

She still held firm to the idea that Julianus was the best man to send to Antelium, but she hadn't paused to consider what it would mean for him. The danger it could put him in, considering he'd already run afoul of Malitech months ago. A sudden, dreadful thought occurred to her then, making her curse her own stupidity.

Why did Marcus want Julianus gone?

Marcus knew about their affair. It was entirely possible that he had at least guessed at the other benefits Julianus offered her. Probable, in fact.

Cassia knowing how to fight, at least knowing how to defend herself, did not benefit Marcus in the least. Her relationship with Julianus did not benefit him. Assuming that the general made a good showing of himself—and she had no doubt he would—he would make an extremely powerful ally.

And Marcus, if he couldn't have Julianus, would begrudge her the same thing.

Anger—at herself, at Marcus—flared hot, speeding her steps until she found herself at her own door. A guard meandered past on his rounds, bowing when he saw her, but she didn't have the capacity to pay him any attention. She stormed into her room, pulling up short when she found her ladies-in-waiting already bickering with one another over what she should wear tonight.

They curtsied when they saw her, and Cassia stiffened at the keen look she received from Claudia. But the older woman only said, "Is there anything you believe would be suited for tonight's dinner, Your Highness? We took the liberty of selecting a few possibilities for you."

It took a moment for Cassia to switch the track of her thoughts. How dreadfully boring it was, picking a dress she would only spend a handful of hours in. She went into her dressing room, glancing at the four gowns that awaited her approval.

Her ladies hovered just behind her as she stared first at a blue satin dress with diamonds sewn into the skirt, then at a dress made of several layers of a sheer, creamy-white material.

What statement did she want to make? Who did she want to make it to?

Her appearance spoke as loudly as she did. What she wore was important because what she wore spoke volumes without her ever needing to open her mouth.

She swept her gaze once more over the dresses her ladies had chosen. Blue, white, lavender and muted silver. Soft colors. Passive colors. 

Cassia would not sit across a table from Marcus and appear anything less than quietly hostile. Not after this morning.

"None of these," she said, ignoring the slight looks of disappointment this evoked. Cassia strode deeper into the room, looking for one dress in particular. She had worn it once last year to Metusia, the annual celebration held on the first full moon of every year.

The story that belonged with the dress seemed particularly suited to tonight.

One of her suitors, the son of a particularly favored noble, had become a little too careless where he put his hands. But before she could retaliate, Marcus had swept in out of nowhere, challenging the man to a duel. Now, she couldn't recall what Marcus' own grievance with the lordling had been—when she'd thanked him, he'd laughed and told her not to be so self-centered.

Apparently, not everything was about her.

It didn't matter, she decided as she found the gown in question. Fierce gold swathes of clingy silk held up by a length of fabric that wound around the back of her neck and encircled her breasts. It left her shoulders, upper back and a thin strip of her midriff bare. 

It was embroidered with a delicate filigree of crossed swords in bloody red. She grinned slightly. If Marcus really suspected that Julianus was teaching her to fight, he would know exactly what she was saying.

"This one," she said.

"For dinner?" Antonia asked, looking alarmed. The look was echoed by Drusilla, but Claudia managed to simply look bored.

"Yes," Cassia replied serenely.

After a moment's hesitation, her ladies helped her out of the green velvet dress. Cassia stepped into the flowing skirt of the golden dress, the silky material rippling with every movement. 

She sat before the mirror, closing her eyes as Claudia and Antonia began to dress her hair. They carefully braided her hair into small sections, which were then woven into an elaborate knot at her neck. 

The final touches were light leather sandals, hoop-earrings of gold and a set of bracelets made of rubies.

Pleased with the overall effect, Cassia thanked them and left her rooms, making her way to the private dining room her family would be in. The walk gave her enough time to brace herself, but wasn't so long that she was able to consider every horrid thing that might happen.

A servant opened the door for her, revealing a room that might have been cozy if it didn't hold so many cold memories.

The room was relatively small, only big enough to hold the heavy oak table that could easily seat twenty people. The table rested upon a thick red carpet. A modest fireplace sat on the eastern wall, just behind the head of the table, while windows commanded the western wall.

A massive tapestry covered the northern wall across from her, depicting a battle of the First Sorian War that had happened nearly six hundred years ago.

Marcus and her fourth younger brother, Trajan, were already seated. Trajan had his arms crossed, his jaw set, hazel eyes drilling into the wood of the table. Cassia suspected he'd much rather be tinkering around under the watchful eye of the city's head engineer.

Then Cassia shifted her attention, just to stare at Marcus in dismay. He looked her up and down, then a half-smile tugged at his lips. The shirt he wore was fine cotton dyed a deep red with delicate golden stitching at the collar.

A mirror of her.

Before she could say anything, her mother breezed into the room, a sullen Hadrian towed along in her wake. Cassia offered a polite smile to the queen, who clasped her elbow and brushed a kiss near her cheek. The queen had never been particularly affectionate, even when they were children. Marcus inclined his head toward their mother as she settled gracefully into her seat, backlit by the windows. 

Hadrian plopped into a seat four down from Cassia, directly across from Trajan. Of the Auralius siblings, the fifteen and fourteen year old boys were certainly the only ones who acted like family. 

She watched as they shared a look of extreme fatigue, like they were already exhausted by this whole ordeal. Family dinners typically consisted of either stony silences or vicious tirades by their father. Cassia felt suddenly just as tired as they appeared.

Then Trajan's eyes snapped to hers. Cassia managed to blink once before his mouth twisted in a scowl and he looked away. A silent sigh escaped her, and she looked down at her reflection in the golden plate already set before her. 

She had steadily lost the battle for her brothers as they grew. Turned against her by her father, Malitech and the court in general.

Quintus was her last chance for any kind of real family, and she had some hope given that she still commanded the majority of his affection. 

Of course... she remembered that Marcus used to have a similar sweet disposition as a child. But he'd grown out of that quickly enough—right into a snake twice as venomous as any viper.

 She glanced up at the brother in question, just to find him watching her over the edge of his goblet. An emotion she couldn't put a name to passed behind his dark honey eyes—eyes the same exact shade as her own—but before she could look any closer, the king arrived. 

They all stood as Durus swept into the room, and then Cassia nearly choked on her own breath when Elias trailed in behind him.

Durus gestured for Elias to take the seat to Cassia's right, making her stiffen.

Well. That was interesting.

They sat once the king had, servants filing silently into the room, moving like wraiths to fill the plates of the royals. Cassia stared at the slices of pork-roast drizzled in some sort of sauce made with what appeared to be cranberries. Elias beside her sat ramrod straight, his face paler than usual.

She caught his eye and gave him an encouraging smile that he managed to return. His presence was somewhat relieving. Her father wouldn't tirade in front of a guest.

Once the plates had been filled, and the only servant remaining was one to refill their wine glasses, Durus cast a disapproving glance toward Cassia. Marcus hid a smile behind his goblet; Trajan and Hadrian leaned forward in anticipation.

Wolves circling what they thought was a wounded deer.

Cassia took a small bite of the pork, pleasantly surprised by the savory-sweet flavor of the sauce. She decided to bet that he was going to comment on her dress. It was an ancient game, betting against herself what he would find fault with each time.

"Perhaps, Livia, you should have specified that this was to be a family dinner," Durus finally said.

The queen looked down the table at Cassia, the skin around her eyes pinched, her gaze wary.

To spare her mother, Cassia cocked her head at her father. "She did, Majesty."

The king raised an eyebrow as he carved a roll in half. Cassia could have sworn everyone else was holding their breath, waiting for the blow. She took another small bite of the pork. 

"Is it a new fashion then?" Durus asked, turning again to the queen. "Dressing like one of the whores from the Meretrix?"

Elias jerked in surprise, like he'd forgotten how vitriolic the king could be. That, or he didn't expect the king to so blatantly refer to the most famous brothel in all of Metus. Cassia pressed her lips into a thin line to keep from smiling.

Trajan and Hadrian were snickering down into their plates, while her mother had a far removed look in her eyes. The only one who hadn't responded to the insult was Marcus.

"If memory serves," Cassia said, keeping her voice soft, "this dress was a gift from you, Father." She met his gaze dead on. "I wouldn't know how a whore dresses."

Now Marcus cracked a smile. "Perhaps that's why he bought it for you, so you could look the part too."

Tension that could have been cut with a dull knife stretched thin between Durus and the prince. Cassia exchanged a glance with Elias, who looked very much like he wished to be anywhere else. She could appreciate the sentiment.

Durus cocked his head, pinning Marcus with a wicked stare. A small admiration tugged at Cassia when Marcus met that gaze steadily, an almost-innocent expression pasted onto his face. She glanced at her father, waiting to see if he would decide that what Marcus had implied was insulting enough to result in some kind of punishment.

Her mother, finally judging that the king wasn't going to do anything, asked, "Marcus, what happened to your face, darling?"

Cassia's heart shot into her throat, and she had to look down at the food on her plate, ash suddenly coating her tongue. Silence reigned for another moment, and from the corner of her eye, she watched as Durus waved a hand. Apparently, the king was feeling generous tonight.

After she had forced her heart back down into her chest, she looked up at Marcus, a warning on her face. If he loosened his tongue, she would loosen hers. 

He smiled, the expression wry. The rim of the goblet he was holding tipped minutely to her, the movement so small she wasn't truly sure she'd seen it. Then he shrugged an elegant shoulder.

"I was..." He grinned at her. "Stag hunting. I didn't duck when I should have."

Cassia struggled mightily against the urge to roll her eyes. 

"A branch did that?" Elias asked, then glanced nervously toward the king. 

Durus either didn't notice or didn't mind that the lieutenant had spoken out of turn. Instead, he was waiting for Marcus to answer. Elias' shoulders drew tight as the prince turned toward him.

"That's right," he drawled, picking at his glazed carrots.

Durus was frowning at the bruise on his son's face. "I didn't know you went out hunting today."

"Perhaps your spies aren't watching me as closely as they should," Marcus said blithely, though his knuckles had turned white around his knife. 

Looking down into her wine, Cassia filed that bit of information away for later.

"That doesn't look like it was caused by a branch," Hadrian chimed in, bristling when Marcus didn't even deign to look at him.

All Cassia wanted was for this conversation to end as quickly as possible. "What else could have done it?" she said, making her voice careless as she stabbed her fork into the steamed, golden potatoes on her plate. 

Marcus smirked. "Much as it pains me to say, my sister is right. It is not as though anyone would dare strike me."

She was no longer breathing. Elias was watching the prince suspiciously, and she had to force herself not to kick his leg in an effort to drag his attention away. The moment for Marcus to sign Julianus' death warrant had passed, but she wouldn't relax until the subject was fully dropped.

The king actually laughed, catching the entire table by surprise. "Indeed."

Marcus winked at Cassia, making dull fury roar in her ears. 

But the conversation turned quickly to more mundane things that didn't require her full attention. She picked at her plate and answered the few questions aimed at her until finally, finally the king rose from his seat, laying his napkin over the remains of his meal.

Cassia took pains not to bolt from the room, instead laying a hand on Elias' arm. Dredging up a smile that made him blink in surprise, she said, "I'm sorry that I haven't been able to see you."

That opened the door just enough, and eager brightness came into his eyes, tugging at her heart. She'd been cold to him, and she knew it. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt anything to rekindle their friendship. After all, she had missed him fiercely, once upon a time.

She took his elbow and began walking with him toward the door. "You promised to tell me about your being in the navy, remember?" she asked.

"Uh... yes," Elias said, looking unsure of her attention.

Shame flickered in her chest. Had she really turned so cruel? 

The desire to repair what she could between them flared a little brighter, just to be extinguished when the king said, "Lieutenant. A moment."

Elias actually hesitated, making that desire warm once more. She tilted her head back toward the king. "Perhaps some other time, then."

"It would be my pleasure, Princess," he murmured, squeezing her hand for a brief moment before he quickly turned back to the king.

Cassia left the dining room alone, walking slowly down the candlelit hallways.

A hand snagged her elbow, making her start. Looking up, she found Marcus pulling her down a different hall, glancing twice over his shoulder. 

"Let go of me," she snarled, keeping her voice low.

Much to her displeasure he didn't listen, instead dragging her through a door into a small, disused sitting room. He locked the door behind them, then dragged her across the room and through another door into an abandoned hall.

He made such a point to look along the corridor that Cassia found herself doing the same, her heart jumping into her throat when a shadow traveled down the wall, soon followed by a near-silent footstep. The memory of what he'd said about spies popped up, and she stopped trying to pull away.

"They're getting better," he muttered, then hauled her into a small niche hidden by a thick tapestry.

He placed a finger against his lips, his hand still gripping her arm. Cassia could feel his heart beating steadily where she was pressed against his chest, stone cool against her back. Marcus lightly touched the tapestry to stop it from moving.

She held her breath as that pair of footsteps wandered almost carelessly down the hall. Then she heard a man swearing under his breath and the footsteps retreating hastily back down the corridor.

Marcus let out a small sigh, then looked down at her. He was little more than a gleam of eyes and teeth in the twilight of the niche. 

"Why does Father have people following you?" Cassia asked, prying at his fingers.

"You always were so good at asking the right questions," he whispered, finally letting her go, but he made no move to exit their little hiding place. "But I'm afraid mine is a little more interesting."

Raising an eyebrow, she said, "I'll answer your question if you answer mine."

He made a little tsking sound. "I believe, Lady Sister, you'll find you already owe me for not telling the truth about this." His hand brushed against her shoulder as he lifted it to tap the bruise on the side of his mouth.

"Barely," she hissed.

"Barely not telling the truth is still not telling the truth," he taunted. Then he asked, "Why did Father want to talk to dear Elias all alone?"

Cassia grew still, her eyes flicking up to his. Touching her tongue to her upper lip, she shook her head. "Elias came back in the hopes of having his title returned."

"The son of a disgraced general." Marcus smirked. "Do you really think Father would do something like that for someone like him?"

"I don't know what Father would do," she snapped. She turned to leave, but Marcus grabbed her arm and slammed her against the wall. His fingers bit into her shoulder.

Her breath came a little faster when he ducked his head to whisper in her ear. "Father would if he thought you might marry a certain childhood friend." He pulled back slightly. "Please don't disappoint me by being so utterly dull, Cassia."

"Why are you telling me this?" She turned her face away from him.

"Because I want you dangerously aware."

That made her look up at him sharply, shock unfurling through her chest. Marcus smiled benignly before he brushed a kiss against her cheek. "When Father's watching you," he murmured, "he's not watching me."

He slid sideways to leave, but Cassia's hand shot out, snatching his wrist. Marcus stopped, but didn't turn. Quietly, she asked, "What happens if Julianus can't stop Malitech?"

A sinister chuckle floated through the air. "Then I suppose he can pick between the cross or disappointing you."

Cassia's hand went limp and Marcus was gone before she had a chance to say anything more.