“Well, we’re prepared to stop that. All we need is to arrange for Orrin and Melita to get together,” I say.
“How are you going to manage that?” Leandros asks. “Eliades is smitten with you, and I hardly see how that is going to rid you of—Myron, was it?”
“Yes, for that bit, I’m going to need some money.”
Rhouben leans his billiards stick against the nearest wall. “You can really get rid of Melita without getting me disinherited?”
I nod.
“How much money do you need?”
Without blinking, I say, “Five thousand necos.”
Petros whistles. “That’s more than my father makes in a year.”
“But not Rhouben’s father?” I ask.
Rhouben doesn’t need to think twice about it. “I’ll get you the money. Just tell me what else you’ll need.”
“Invite your father to the palace. I don’t care how, just get him here. And in the meantime, you need to play the perfect fiancé, so no one will suspect anything.”
Petros turns to his friend. “In that case, he’s doomed.”
* * *
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Kallias sends me a bracelet strung with black pearls and black diamonds, a truly impressive design considering Naxos is nowhere near the sea. On Wednesday, I receive an ivory comb studded with blue diamonds, meant to be worn in an elaborate updo. Friday, I’m brought emeralds cut into the shapes of leaves, strung around a necklace band that ends in a large topaz.
Each gift is presented to me when I’m surrounded by people. Knowing that these presents are for their benefit, not mine, has a sharp bitterness taking root in me every time another one is delivered in a gloved servant’s hand.
The king is supposed to be in love with me. He’s supposed to give me gifts because he’s smitten with me.
Not because he’s making poor attempts to convince others of our ruse.
He’s making this impossible.
* * *
A SERVANT FINDS ME the day of the Demetrio ball, a letter in hand. I break the bright red wax seal and read:
My dearest Alessandra,
I hope you will forgive my boldness, but word has reached me that the king did not accompany you to your latest outing at the estate of the Christakoses. In fact, it’s rumored you spent the evening with a childhood friend. This has dared me to hope that perhaps you’ve ended things with His Majesty.
You, of course, know of my business travels—
I skip to the bottom to find the signature. It’s from Orrin. I didn’t even notice he was gone from the palace—
They’ve kept me from your side for far too long, but I think of you daily. I miss your conversation, your smile, the way you look away from me when you’re overcome by my generosity.
When I look at the night sky, I cease to see its beauty. All I can think of is you. Your sable hair and how I long to run my fingers through its lengths. Your lips, ripe as cherries—
The descriptions of my distinct body parts go on for five more paragraphs. I skip to the bottom.
Please write me and tell me you have missed me as much as I have missed you.
Your humble servant,
Orrin Galopas, Earl of Eliades
Dear gods. The man is completely delusional. I look up from the letter and startle to find the servant who delivered it still waiting just outside the doorway to my rooms.
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but my lord hoped you might send a reply back with me.”
I want to unleash my fury on Orrin’s servant. Instead, I clear my head enough to think reasonably. “How long will Lord Eliades be away from the palace?”
“I should expect another week at least, my lady.”
“Good.” I start to shut the door, and the servant coughs.
“Oh, there will be no reply for the earl.” And I slam the door the rest of the way.
This letter is an opportunity. A way to complete the rest of our plans.
* * *
A SHORT LINE EXTENDS down the driveway, but Myron, Hestia, Rhoda, and I don’t wait long before we’re greeted by the duke and duchess.
After introductions are made, the duke lifts his eyes over my shoulder. “The king is not with you?”
“Kallias so wished to come,” I say, daring to use the king’s first name in front of the duke. I need to show intimacy between us since Kallias isn’t actually here. “Alas, he’s hard at work protecting our kingdom.”
“I’m here to escort Lady Stathos,” Myron says, stepping somewhat in front of me.
The duke’s eyes widen as he recognizes Myron from the play. Demetrio glances back at me. “You know this gentleman?”
I can tell from the tone of his voice what he means. You willingly associate with this man?
Myron is ruining me. One outing at a time. He elbows me in the ribs.
“Myron is a childhood friend.” The words physically pain me to say them. “He’s … quite charming.”
“Oh,” the duke says. “Well, do enjoy the ball.”
I can tell Myron wishes to stay and talk with the duke longer, but this time it is Rhoda who ushers us along inside.
I momentarily lose my ire once I catch sight of the ballroom. The duke and duchess refer to their young daughter as their shooting star, a reference, I’m told, to her prodigious talent at playing the pianoforte. The decorations have been done to match the endearment. Candles are placed within holders with holes cut in the shape of stars, the designs magnifying and showing on the ceiling and walls. Bundles of flowers in yellows and blues cover every surface in the grand estate, the flowers trailing in the shape of the fading light that appears behind a shooting star. And the young lady’s gown rivals my own with diamonds sewn into it every few inches. A long train follows her for ten feet everywhere she goes, making it hard to miss her in the crowd since the partygoers have to mind the chiffon sweeping the floor.
As soon as Hestia, Rhoda, and I take in the sights, my two friends are quickly whisked away by men to the dance floor.
“He’s quite charming?” Myron repeats when we are alone. “You were supposed to extol my virtues to the duke.”
“Showing up with me to the ball is telling enough, Myron. You don’t want to overdo it. You’re going to ruin yourself by overselling yourself. True men of character don’t have to try this hard.”
“Careful, Alessandra. If you don’t sell me enough, I might just have to start extolling your virtues to the court. Or rather, your lack of them.” He laughs at his own joke.
Once he composes himself, he pulls me into the dance number among other couples on the floor. “Think what you will of me and my methods,” he says after one turn around the ballroom, “but my plan is working splendidly. I’ve already secured some invitations of my own. I shouldn’t need you to get me into any other events.”
“In that case, you don’t need me anymore.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. My connection to you is what is giving me the needed credibility. We will continue to associate regularly.”
“Credibility?”
“Yes, I’m looking for men to invest in my new business venture—Ow!”
I accidentally step on Myron’s foot, so caught off guard by the words. “You’re using me to get nobles to invest in a business venture?”
Myron takes me through the next set of turns in the dance, acting as though we’re not having any sort of argument. “Of course. If you will recall, I’m in quite a lot of debt. I need to get out of it. I’m looking to buy some sailing vessels to open up a trading line with the Kingdom of Estetia.”
I’m speechless for a moment. “You. You—the man who spends all his money on cards and dice—are convincing courtiers to give you their money so you can open up trade with a kingdom our Shadow King is planning to invade.”
Myron glares down at me. “I’m good at getting others to give me money. I’ve raised quite a lot already. Besides, it’s not like Estetia knows the king is planning to conquer them.”
My hair should catch fire, such heat emanates from my body. “You are going to sully my good name when you steal all this money to pay off your debts.”
“No. I’m not using it to pay off my debts. I’m going to buy trading ships. With the profits of my new business, I will then begin to pay off my debts.”
Our second dance together ends, and the orchestra strikes up a third song, but I walk away from Myron.
“Alessandra, I didn’t say you could cease dancing with me.”
“No, we can’t be seen dancing three songs in a row.”
He grins. “I own you. You will do whatever I say.”
“If we dance another dance, then you might as well tell the whole world my secret, because rumors about me will abound and the king will end our courtship. Three dances in a row is all but an announcement of an engagement. Then you will have nothing to gain from me.” The words are desperate, but Myron must see reason.
He sighs. “Oh, very well. I shall go find another partner, but don’t you dare go disappear from the party.” And blessedly, he leaves me.
I take the rest of the song to compose myself. I am courting the king. I will be rid of Myron very soon. Everything will go according to plan. No one makes a fool of me.
After a few more steadying breaths, I determine to salvage what I can of the evening and enjoy the party.
I stand by the wall, thinking to catch the eye of some man to encourage him to ask me to dance. I find one, a tall stranger with hair a deep red shade, his complexion sun-kissed, and his muscled body practically straining through the well-fitted formal attire. He gives me a polite nod and walks on.
Though somewhat irritated by the rejection, I remain undaunted and try to catch another’s gaze. I find a broad-shouldered blond with a handsome mustache and give him a coy smile. He returns the greeting enthusiastically and turns away from me.
What the hell?
“No man here will ask you to dance,” a feminine voice says from behind me.
I turn and find the owner, Lady Zervas, her gray-streaked hair falling over her shoulders in perfect ringlets. She hides her mouth behind a cream-colored fan, and her eyes reveal nothing of her expression.
“You are being courted by the king,” she says by way of explanation. “No one else would dare to approach you, save your … friend.”
Orrin also dared, but I suppose he doesn’t have a sense of self-preservation. He’s too busy saving kittens from drowning.
“If you will permit me to give you some advice,” Lady Zervas says, but she doesn’t ask it like a question. She plows straight ahead. “Deny the king your favors. You will only be unhappy if you resume this courtship. At best, he will hold you at arm’s length always, afraid to touch you.”
“And at worst?” I ask.
“That depends on what you fear more. Either he will die and leave you behind in this world, or he will wed another, and you’ll be forced to watch him happy with someone else.”
“Such bleak options.”
“I experienced all three for a time.”
“And which was worse? Watching him with another woman or knowing he was dead?”
She snaps her fan closed, a hard line set to her mouth. “The former, dear. Definitely the former.”
She turns from me, picking up her skirts in one hand and stalking away.
What a horrible woman.
My eyes catch on a spot of color in the room. Rhouben is dancing with his fiancée, his lips barely concealing a grimace as she prattles on about something. When they turn, she sees me and pulls Rhouben closer, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
I need to speak with Rhouben anyway, and insulting Melita is just a happy bonus. She’s been allowed to go far too long unchecked.
I approach the couple, waiting until they reach the outskirts of the dance floor before tapping on Rhouben’s shoulder. He stops, and his eyes light up with relief when he sees me.
“May I cut in?” I ask. “You’ll be married to the man soon, Lady Xenakis. It’s not sporting of you to keep him to yourself before then. And surely you would not deny the future queen?”
Before she can utter a word, Rhouben extricates himself from Melita’s clutches and twirls me into the dance.
“You’re a goddess,” he says into my ear. “You saved me.”
“Consider it a mutual saving. No one will dance with me. They all fear the king’s ire.”
“I don’t. And right now, I’m too bored to care about Melita’s ire. Or my father’s. We should sneak away.”
I give him a mischievous grin. “And do what exactly?”
“I should say something naughty, but I honestly don’t care as long as it gets me away from that woman. By the way, I have the money you requested in my rooms at the palace. I can get it to you as soon as we return.”
“That’s wonderful! And I have something that should help us. Eliades sent me a love letter. We can now imitate his handwriting. All I need is to get my hands on his seal to authenticate the letter we send Melita. I’m told Orrin will be back in the palace in just over a week. He no doubt has his seal with him, so we will have to wait until his return to steal it. Have you heard from your father?”
“Not yet. He has a habit of putting off reading my letters, but he’ll come once he reads it. I told him I withdrew five thousand necos from my account. That will have him here in no time.”
“And what do you intend to tell him when he arrives in a fury?” I rest my head on Rhouben’s shoulder as soon as I spot Melita glaring at the two of us.
“That I’m purchasing something spectacular for Melita, of course. But I needed something jarring to prompt his journey to the palace. Once he arrives, I think I can keep him here until Orrin is back from business.”
“Good. We need to be careful. Timing is everything.”
Another couple sidles up next to us. It’s Petros, dancing with a new man I don’t recognize. “Are you hogging the king’s beau?”
“I’m merely trying to escape mine,” Rhouben says.
“You’ve had Alessandra for two dances already. If it’s a third, people will talk. Here, let’s switch.”
Suddenly I’m pulled into Petros’s arms, and Rhouben finds himself holding Petros’s partner.
“Hi,” Rhouben says awkwardly.
“Would you rather dance with a man or dance with Melita?” Petros asks, as he sweeps me away.
The last thing I see is Rhouben enthusiastically engaging in the dance with Petros’s old partner.
Then my eyes are on Petros. I’m laughing at the whole exchange, heady with taking Melita’s dance partner, giddy with the relief that there are men still willing to dance with me. Drunk on the thought that Myron will be out of the picture soon enough.
Petros regales me with stories of his recent escapades. Lord Osias and Lord Banis apparently got into a fight over him. They’re both nursing mild wounds this evening, so he has had to find other partners to entertain himself with.
After a total of two dances, Petros twirls me outward, sending me into another man’s arms.
“Leandros,” I say. “Where have you been?”
“Important people never arrive on time to events, but it seems I’ve missed much of the fun.”
“No,” I say. “You’re just in time for it.”
Over his shoulder, I see Petros finding a lady to dance with. Meanwhile, Rhouben is literally walking away from Melita, trying to outdistance her. I suppose my advice to play the perfect fiancé was too much to ask of him.
Leandros is more than an accomplished dancer with the skill in which he lifts me off the floor and spins me in the air. As I feel his hands in mine, feel his arms come around me as we go through the steps of the dance, I can’t help but wonder if I will ever feel Kallias in this way.
CHAPTER
12
It is the dead of night when we return from the ball and Rhouben and I swap money for letter in my rooms. Petros is with us, insisting he wouldn’t miss out on the fun. And h
e also proclaims to be an excellent forger.
Rhouben and I look over his shoulder as he finishes the letter.
Dearest Melita,
I have watched you from afar for too long. I can no longer keep my feelings to myself. Your beauty is like the light of the sun. It almost hurts to look at you, and you make it impossible for me to look at anyone else.
Please, I must speak with you alone. Will you meet me in your rooms at nine o’clock on the evening of the ___? Will you greet me with a kiss, so I may know if your feelings for me burn as brightly as mine do for you?
Your humble servant,
Orrin Galopas, Earl of Eliades
We compare his writing to the note Orrin sent me. Petros has managed the shape of Orrin’s letters perfectly. No one would know the difference. It’s unlikely that the note will fall into anyone’s hands but Melita’s, but better safe than sorry. If our plan to save Rhouben from this marriage is to work, it needs to be flawless.
“What now?” Rhouben asks.
“Now all that’s left,” I say, “is to wait for Orrin to arrive back at the palace. When he does, we add the date to the letter, and then I will seal it with Orrin’s crest. Then you must get this letter to Melita without her spotting you delivering it.”
“But how will you get his crest?”
Petros stands from his chair and cracks his back. “He’s in love with her, you dolt. How do you think she’ll gain access to his rooms and get his crest? She’ll play him.”
Rhouben grips me in a hug, smashing me against his bright red-and-yellow-brocade vest. “You really are the best, Alessandra. If this works, I owe you my life.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Petros says.
“Would you want a life with Melita?” Rhouben challenges.
“Fair point. Yes, you owe her your life. And I’ll take the fifty necos you promised for the use of my penmanship.”
“When did I promise you that?”
I leave the two of them to playfully bicker, my skirts heavily ladened with an envelope full of money.
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