The Shadows Between Us

by Tricia Levenseller

  Kallias’s leg bounces underneath the table. He’s in a very fine mood.

  A wave of pleasure washes over me at his words. “Excellent. I would be very interested to remain informed on both situations.”

  “Of course. I’m beginning to realize there is nothing I care to keep from you anymore.”

  An amiable silence sits between us as we enjoy the food. At one point, I find Kallias watching me out of the corner of my eye. When I turn my head, he only grins when caught staring.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “That should be obvious. Perhaps you’d like to ask me what I’m thinking instead?” His eyes are liquid fire, and I wonder just how dangerous it might be to ask that very question.

  But I do anyway.

  “I’m thinking,” he answers, “that you are quite beautiful, and every man at this table wishes he were me right now.”

  My stomach starts to flutter. “You are king. Every man does wish he were you.”

  “No. Every man wishes he had you at his side.”

  “You said I wasn’t beautiful enough to be tempting,” I remind him.

  He takes his napkin from his lap and brushes his fingers against it. “I lied. You’re the most stunning thing to ever set foot in my palace.”

  Our eyes hold. I’m helpless but to maintain the connection sizzling between us.

  And though I know he won’t break the law—not yet—for me, knowing that I have some hold on him brings a slow smile to my lips.

  He stares down at them, at the red stain that graces my skin.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I ask finally. And then I realize, “You don’t want me to spend any more time with Leandros.”

  He admits, “I want to keep you all to myself.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised at all that a king would be selfish, demanding, even cruel at times. But he is other things as well. He is intelligent, handsome, and giving. And he is not entirely unchangeable. He is changing his ways already for me.

  “I think, Your Majesty, that all this talk of past indulgences is getting to your head.”

  “Perhaps I am simply in a good mood. Everything is going quite splendidly.”

  And it is all due to me.

  Really, everyone should be quite glad when I am the one ruling all the kingdoms.

  When Kallias excuses himself sometime later, his back hasn’t even disappeared around the exit of the great hall before Hestia and Rhoda take the empty seats near me.

  “I heard the king dined in your rooms this morning,” Hestia says with a waggle of her eyebrows.

  “He did. But that was all. Breakfast.”

  “No new gossip for me, then?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Oh, very well. We shall have to turn to less exciting gossip to occupy our afternoon.”

  “How about we talk of all the dancing you did at last night’s ball?” Rhoda asks. “With Lord Paulos.”

  With everything else that’s been going on, I neglected to ask my friends about the event I missed. It seems things went very well for Hestia.

  “It was only a couple of dances,” Hestia says. “It was nothing. Truly.”

  “If that’s the case, then why is he watching you right now?”

  “What?” Hestia swivels her head around in time to catch the man who must be Lord Paulos quickly look away.

  He’s a bit older than she is, with a little gray at his temples, but still quite handsome.

  I grin.

  “See?” Rhoda continues. “And I happened to overhear him tell his friends how you smelled like a berry patch in spring. Men don’t say things like that unless they’re smitten.”

  “They don’t?” Hestia looks down at the wood grain of the table and grins shyly.

  “And he obviously very much enjoyed the conversation you shared. What did you talk about?”

  “Well, I started by discussing the latest fashions in the palace, but somehow the conversation morphed into talk of gaming.”

  “Gaming?” Rhoda repeats.

  “My father loves to play cards, and he taught me. Lord Paulos and I were rehearsing some of our favorite moves seen played in the game of hach. We both are obsessed with the strategy of the game. I know it wasn’t very ladylike of me to discuss such things, but it was so terribly fun.”

  Sometimes Hestia can be quite silly, but I know she is an only child, with an absent mother and a father who wasn’t quite sure how to raise a daughter. She may be trying to imitate me in the extreme, but part of me wonders if she is so afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing that she thinks imitating others is the only way to be safe. Then it’s not her who is the one being rejected.

  “Hestia,” I say. “Do you know how I was able to catch the king’s attention?”

  She shakes her head.

  “By being myself. By discussing what I wished to discuss and behaving how I wished to behave and wearing what I wished to wear. It is not conforming to a standard that drew His Majesty’s attention. If you wish to make a happy match, I think you should do the same. Don’t be afraid of who you are. Say what you wish. Be who you wish. Don’t try to be someone else. You don’t want to catch a man who wants me. You want to catch a man who wants you.”

  Hestia blinks a few times before looking down at the clothes she’s wearing, the ones that resemble my close-fitted dress from last week. She takes a full minute to think while staring at the smooth fabric about her waist. Suddenly, she rises, walks over to Lord Paulos, and takes the empty seat right next to him.

  Rhoda takes up her empty seat, so we can converse more easily. “I’ve been trying to tell her the same thing for years. I think it just needed to come from the future queen.”

  “Do you expect we’ll hear news of an engagement soon?”

  “I expect we will.”

  We both lean back in our seats, letting our eyes trail down to Lord Paulos, who is now laughing at whatever Hestia has just said.

  “What of you?” I ask. “Any progress on your search for passion?”

  “Oh, I’m having a dreadful time of it.”

  “How can that be?”

  Rhoda brushes a black curl over her shoulder. “I have come up with a ranking system for men who are in the running. But none of them are quite what I want.”

  “You must tell me of this system you’ve devised!” I say, thoroughly intrigued by the conversation.

  “I have come up with three different categories by which to judge men. They are looks, manners, and personality. Each category is ranked from one to five, one being a low score, and five being a high score. Now take Lord Toles, for example. With his sculpted features and dark complexion, he is an easy five ranking in looks. He’s fairly polite and thoughtful, resulting in a three in manners. But personality? Oh, he’s as dry as a lake during a drought. Overall, he ranks only nine out of fifteen.”

  “How fascinating! What would your ideal future husband rank overall?”

  “At least a thirteen, don’t you think?”

  I ponder it a moment. “Definitely. If we were only talking of bedding men, I would say you need to look only for fives in the good-looks category. If you were looking for a friend, all you would need is a five in the personality department. If you’re hoping for an escort to an event, then you would need only a five in manners, perhaps looks as well if you’re trying to leave a good impression. But for a love match? Definitely at least a thirteen.”

  Rhoda nods. “I thought Lord Cosse would be the one after the last party. Did you know he and I danced three times together? Not in a row, of course. But three in total! He’s a four and a half in looks and a three and a half in personality. But manners? When I begged a break from the dancing because I was thirsty, he didn’t bother to offer to grab something from the refreshment table. He only went in search of a different dance partner. Can you believe that?”

  “An outrage,” I say.

  “My thoughts exactly. Lord Doukas has been after me for a while, but he’s only
a two in looks. If we’re being kind,” she adds in a whisper. “The man is a five in both manners and personality. So it’s a real shame. I don’t like to think of myself as being shallow, but surely I should find a man I think is attractive if I’m to pursue him?”

  “I agree.”

  Rhoda sighs. “Sometimes, I don’t think there are enough men at court. And I’m convinced the perfect man doesn’t exist.”

  Without prompting, Kallias’s visage rises to the front of my mind. The perfect symmetry of his face. The dark volume of his hair. His intelligent and bright green eyes. The view of his bare chest and bare … other things.

  I think of our teasing and joking. Our discussions of bedding and reaching for the things we want. I think of the way he waited for me to arrive before starting on his dinner, how he waited up for me when I went out with Leandros.

  Kallias has his flaws. Oh, so many flaws. I think of his temper. Of his selfishness to keep me to himself. Even though he doesn’t want all of me.

  Mouth dry, I say, “I don’t think it’s necessarily about finding the perfect man but finding the perfect man for you. One person may rank a man far differently than another, even if they are both using your ranking system. But…”

  “What?” Rhoda asks.

  “The king is a fifteen. Perhaps not for everyone. But he is a fifteen for me.” And it’s the starkest truth.

  Rhoda quirks her mouth to the side. “I assure you, Alessandra. It is not just you. The king is most assuredly a fifteen. Perhaps I should have rephrased. No attainable man is a fifteen.”

  How very right she is.

  But I’m far from giving up just yet.

  CHAPTER

  17

  The next day is more bleak than the ones we’ve been having of late, with gray clouds blocking the entirety of the sky. The air is full of moisture and constantly threatening rain, though no drops have surfaced just yet.

  Despite the weather, I’m in a fine mood after the most recent letter from my father.

  Alessandra, what did you do! Lord Eliades just withdrew his marriage proposal. He said rumors were abounding about you and the king. What happened?

  You know we were depending on this after your failure to secure marriage with the king. Now I will have to start from the beginning to find someone who will have you. Why must you be so trying?

  I suppose word of my naked swimming adventure with the king got back to Orrin. I’m so delighted to be rid of him.

  I wrap a thick shawl about my shoulders and head outdoors, thinking today to be the perfect opportunity to sneak away for some air. No one else is likely to be outside. Not in this weather.

  I take a fresh sketchbook with me and go in search of the gardens Kallias mentioned his mother maintained while she was alive.

  As I round the stables, an arm snakes through mine. I’d think it Hestia or Rhoda if I didn’t feel the distinct muscles hidden beneath a copper-colored jacket.

  “Alessandra,” Leandros says, “I thought I saw you disappear outside. You aren’t planning on abandoning us, are you?”

  I adjust my grip on my shawl so that I might more easily hold on to the arm of the most narcissistic man in the palace.

  “With naught but my sketchbook?” I ask.

  “Fair point. What are we to be drawing today? It must have slipped your mind to ask me to model.”

  I let out an unladylike snort. “I don’t draw people. I draw designs. For me to then sew.”

  “And we’re out in this chill because…”

  “Well, I’m here because I thought the gardens might be a lovely place to draw inspiration from. I can’t fathom why you’re here.”

  “I saw an opportunity to finally catch you alone. Any other time I try to approach you, Kallias shoots daggers at me with his shadowy glare.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” I admit.

  “That’s because you’re so taken with him. But he’s not here now,” he says in a naughty tone. “Tell me, when can I take you away from here again for another night of fun?”

  A sad smile rises to my lips. I like Leandros. He’s ridiculous at times, but fun and kind. Not to mention handsome. His manners run a bit short, but he has to be at least a thirteen by Rhoda’s ranking.

  But he can’t make me a queen.

  I’m about to open my lips, but Leandros turns and places a fingertip against them. “No, don’t say whatever you’re thinking. I can tell I won’t like it. Take some time. Wait for Kallias to do something to upset you. Then come find me with your answer.”

  We come to a stop before an iron gate, through which I can see rows and rows of flowers. Leandros halts.

  “I’ll leave you to your sketching. But do come find me if you decide you’re in need of a model. Nude or not.” He gives me a wink before striding off.

  Such a little devil, but I find a wide grin on my face as I let myself through the gate.

  Brick-lined trails wend through patches of flowers. First, I pass by the roses. Each row varies by size and color. Some are all one shade, while others are tipped with pinks and yellows. They’re cared for immaculately, with not a dying bloom among the plants.

  Farther along, I see beds of other species. Chrysanthemums and daffodils and tulips, but I don’t go exploring just yet. I stop before one of the rosebushes, the petals a sun-bright yellow. They flare to the most stunning red-orange at the tips, and I can’t help but stare at the individual blossoms. How they remind me of the flickering colors of fire. One flower hasn’t quite yet bloomed. With just a few orange tips peeling away, it looks like an ember slowly extinguishing. Growing smaller, rather than larger, as I know the blossom will do.

  A dress takes shape before my eyes. A yellow gown with orange tips about the hem, individual petals pulling away from the skirts. Finding a nearby bench, I seat myself, flip open to an empty page, and move my pen rapidly against the parchment, letting the dress take shape.

  “May I join you?” a deep voice asks.

  His voice.

  I look up, and I can hardly believe that Kallias has entered the garden. He looks so out of place with the black attire he’s chosen for today, with the shadows surrounding his person. They don’t seem to belong in a colorful garden.

  Demodocus trots along beside him. But, as some idea gets in the beast’s head, he takes off like a shot through the garden, jumping over a nearby hedge of flowers and giving out a loud yip.

  Probably spotted a rabbit.

  I turn back to his master.

  May I join you? he’d asked. Such manners. Leandros assumed he would be welcome. And whether Kallias actually has any intention of leaving if I were to tell him so will remain unknown. I can’t ever see myself turning him away.

  Not just because I need to win his heart.

  But because I like him, and I want him near me.

  “Please do,” I say, and turn my nose to the empty space beside me. He sits, keeping an appropriate two feet between us on the bench. “How did you know I was out here?” Or perhaps he didn’t. Maybe he wanted to go for a turn about the gardens, seeking the outdoors and potential solitude as I was.

  “I saw you out the window.”

  “And you followed? Were you not in a meeting?”

  “I was.”

  I look up from my sketch, giving him an inquisitive look.

  “I decided I’d rather be out here with you, and I cut it short.”

  Pleased, I return back to my sketch.

  “Are you designing a new outfit?” he asks.

  Again, I find myself pleased. Pleased that he would know exactly what I’m doing, because he knows what I like. “I feel at a disadvantage,” I tell him. “You know my hobbies, but I have yet to learn yours.”

  Leandros mentioned fencing and riding when we went out together, but surely there is more.

  Kallias cups his hands in front of him and leans his elbows on his knees. “I used to enjoy fencing above all else, but since I became king, I have been unable to have a partner who wasn’t m
ade of straw.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that.

  “I do like riding and spending time with Demodocus. I’ve always been fond of animals, but even more so of late.”

  As if hearing his name, Demodocus comes bounding back over, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. He sits before me expectantly, waiting for a scratch behind the ears. I oblige him.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I can’t touch another human, but my abilities aren’t affected by animals. Demodocus is the only companion I can have. Some days, I even spoil him and let him in the bed.”

  I hadn’t even considered that. That he would seek out contact in other ways.

  With his turned-down head, a lock of hair sweeps over his brow. If he were any other man in the world, I would reach forward and smooth it back.

  “I used to play the piano,” he says more quietly. “Most everything I learned how to do, I learned from a tutor, but not the piano. My mother taught me herself. She loved music.”

  I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat. Is that sympathy? For him? Even softer than his utterance, I ask, “Would you play for me sometime?”

  “Do you like music?”

  “I think I would like your music.”

  He turns toward me, and just like on the first day we met, a jolt goes through me at the connection of our eyes meeting.

  The breeze flutters now, sending that lock of hair brushing against his brow.

  My fingers twitch, and I look down at my gloved hand.

  Slowly, so very slowly, I raise it.

  Moving as carefully as I would toward a startled horse or a frightened child, I let my hand drift toward Kallias, toward that lock of hair.

  His gaze shifts to my glove, and I can’t begin to guess the trail his thoughts take.

  But I move at a pace that gives him what feels like all the time in the world to stop me.

  Instead, his shadows disappear. He solidifies before me, so that when my finger touches his brow, it doesn’t go through. It meets warm resistance and brushes that lock back.