The Shadows Between Us

by Tricia Levenseller

  And likely killing the men who allowed it to happen.

  When I am finished with my meal, a maid comes to help me undress.

  “I brought your correspondences with me, my lady, in case you wish to respond to any tonight. I’ll have the staff move the rest of your belongings up here first thing tomorrow.”

  She sets two neat piles of letters on the nightstand beside my bed. At the top, I note Orrin’s love letter and cringe at it distastefully.

  She lays one of my simpler nightgowns on the bed for me to change into, but I send her away, not needing her help anymore.

  I ensure the door is securely locked behind her. I check the windows, making sure each one is latched. I look into every nook in the room large enough for an intruder to hide. I turn on every light in the entirety of my rooms before drawing myself a bath and washing away everything that happened today.

  I dry myself methodically, pull on the simple white nightgown, blow out the candles and turn off the lights, and climb into the bed.

  As soon as I do, my heart races. Every shadow in the room feels as though it’s concealing an intruder. I try drawing the curtains about the bed, blocking out the rest of the room.

  Somehow, that only makes it worse. Not being able to see what may or may not be out there.

  After such an encounter, some find it difficult to sleep.

  Damn the old crone!

  Logically, I know there’s nothing in the room. I know I’m alone. I know no one can get in without breaking down the door or shattering the glass of a window.

  But I can’t seem to get my body to relax enough for sleep.

  Tonight, at least, I know I won’t rest if I’m alone in the room.

  I wonder if I could persuade Rhoda or Hestia to join me tonight, but that hardly seems fair to rouse them now. The hour is so very late. I couldn’t possibly bother them.

  A faint sound barely reaches me, and I startle at it, despite its gentility. It was only a soft yip. Demodocus and Kallias must have finally returned for the night. Nothing to be worried about.

  I sit up in bed, pull the curtains away, and stare at the door adjoining our rooms. Before I can think twice about it, I’m up and running for that door like it’s the key to my salvation.

  I knock gently. Perhaps too timidly. Could Kallias have even heard it? Perhaps I don’t want him to hear it. I’m being so ridiculous. Perhaps I should just attempt a few laps about the room to rid myself of the nervous energy and—

  The door creaks open, suggesting it hasn’t been opened in a very long time.

  “Alessandra,” Kallias says. As if it would be anyone else on the other side of the door, knocking for him.

  His hair is mussed, as though he’s been running his hands through it for hours. His shirt is untucked from his pants, all the buttons undone, exposing his smooth chest. I caught him in the middle of undressing. Though that didn’t seem to matter to him if he still opened the door.

  “I—I can’t sleep,” I say.

  Before he can say or do anything, a furry body pushes its way past Kallias’s legs and helps himself into my room. Demodocus sticks his nose along the wall, sniffing the new room’s interior.

  “Just a moment,” Kallias says. He leaves the door open while he turns back into his room. Though the room is dark, I see the faint outline of a massive bed, big enough for five to fit comfortably, I should think. I wonder if it’s the same bed his father used or if Kallias had it made specifically for himself. What is Kallias like when he sleeps? Is he still and quiet with nothing but the movement of his chest up and down to signal he’s alive? Or does he toss and turn, let out little snores? Is he encased in shadow in his dreams or is he solid?

  His form returns, blocking my view of the bed. He’s clad in a long scarlet robe, his gloves returned to his hands. Perfectly covered from head to toe.

  And not a shadow in sight, I notice with some relish.

  I step aside, allowing him into the room. His eyes find Demodocus sticking his wet nostrils into the wardrobe to inspect the smells found there, the beast having risen on his back legs.

  “Demodocus, down.”

  The dog listens and goes in search of other things to sniff.

  “What troubles you?” Kallias asks.

  I return to the bed, sitting on its edge, and he joins me.

  “Nothing, but I can’t seem to sleep.”

  “We had some excitement today, and the men who let the intruder in have been dealt with, but you’re safe. I promise. There are men out in the corridor and men out in the courtyard, watching the windows. Not that anything could reach us up here, but better more precautions than less.”

  I nod, already having known all of this.

  “I’m next door, should you ever need anything. You’re not helpless,” Kallias says emphatically. “You stabbed the assailant with a dagger to the thigh, for gods’ sake. You’re very capable.” He places a comforting hand on my thigh.

  I turn to him. “Thank you. I know all of this, truly. I just can’t seem to relax.”

  “Lie back,” he instructs, and I do so, scooting over to the opposite side of the bed so there’s room for him. He starts to recline, but his eyes catch on the bedside table to where my letters are piled up.

  Kallias picks up one, and I’m about to thank him not to go snooping through my things, when I realize just what he’s holding.

  “My dearest Alessandra,” Kallias reads aloud. “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.”

  I leap forward, trying to snatch the letter from his grip, but Kallias stands out of my reach, never ceasing in his reading. “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. They’ve kept me from your side 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. Who the hell wrote this?” Kallias’s eyes skip to the end to find the signature. Then he barks out a laugh. “Orrin wrote you a love letter!”

  I stand, trying to rip the damned thing from his hands, but Kallias keeps jumping out of reach.

  “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—how I long to taste them. Your fingers are as dainty as butterfly wings, and your eyes have a shine to rival the light of stars.”

  “Damn you, Kallias, give it here!” I throw myself at him, and this time, instead of dancing out of reach, he turns to shadow.

  Along with the letter, which is now safely out of my reach for as long as Kallias likes.

  “That is unfair,” I say.

  Kallias wipes a shadowed tear of mirth from his eyes. “How could you keep this treasure from me?” He reads, “Your voice could command the world to stop spinning, the plants to stop growing, the wind to cease blowing, the bugs to stop chirping.” The king erupts into a fit of laughter.

  “Chirping bugs. In his love letter to you!” Kallias clenches his stomach with both hands, and in doing so, he loses his grip on the letter. It solidifies instantly, and I snatch it up before it even hits the ground.

  I tear the damn thing to shreds and let the pieces fall to the floor.

  “Not all men have skill with a pen,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Kallias turns toward my stack of letters. “Tell me this isn’t his first letter. Oh, please say there’s more!”

  “There isn’t,” I assure him.

  “A pity. Oh, I haven’t laughed that hard in—well, at least a year. Alessandra, are you blushing!”

  “No. If my face is heated, it is from the fury I feel toward you.”

  “For making fun of Orrin?”

  “For making fun of me. For thinking it humorous that anyone should want to write me a lo
ve letter.”

  Will he never see me as a romantic prospect?

  Instantly, the joviality disappears from his face, replaced with utter seriousness. “Alessandra, I do not tease you. It is only Orrin’s attempt at poetry that amuses me. You are worthy of all the poets’ notice, but that”—he points to the shredded pieces on the ground—“is not worthy of you.”

  Somewhat appeased, I challenge, “And I suppose you could do better?”

  “I most certainly could.” He looks sadly upon the torn scraps at the floor. “Did you have to destroy it? I could have framed it and saved it for whenever I’m having a bad day.”

  “Shut your mouth.” I return to the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I refuse to let a smile grace my face.

  But Kallias’s mirth is so very contagious. And I enjoy his smile more than I care to admit.

  A large weight joins me on the bed, but since it’s half on top of me, I know it isn’t Kallias.

  “Well, hello there,” I say to Demodocus.

  Kallias snaps his fingers and points to the foot of the bed. With a sad, downcast face, Demodocus rises and lies down by my feet instead.

  Kallias claims the spot beside me. He interlaces his fingers over his chest, staring up at the canopy.

  “I haven’t done this in a while,” Kallias says.

  “Lie next to a woman?”

  “Climb into my mother’s bed.”

  There are several feet between us, but I manage to reach over and clasp a gloved hand in mine. He doesn’t pull it away.

  “You don’t have to stay with me. I can—” I start.

  “Hush. Go to sleep.”

  The interruption brings a smile to my lips. I try to do as he suggests. I really do, but it’s been a while since I’ve had a man in my bed. Sleep is the last thing on my mind. Even if anything else is impossible.

  And then I remember what happened in the garden. After the attack. Kallias had his hands on me. Checking for injuries, but then things changed. His touch changed. His eyes changed. His breathing changed.

  I don’t consider it an improvement. We almost died. Afterward, he was likely drunk on the energy from such an ordeal. And it made him … impassioned.

  Just what would he have done if the guards hadn’t come?

  I ask, “Did the assassin survive?”

  “No. Between your wound and mine, he didn’t have a chance.”

  “Then you weren’t able to learn anything from him?”

  “Nothing, save what we already discussed about his clothing and accent. He didn’t have anything in his pockets. No note from whoever hired him, nor any money. Whoever sent him was quite careful.”

  I give Kallias’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Then what’s to be done?”

  His free hand rises to rest above his head on the pillow. “I thought I would have answers by now. Everyone has been questioned again and again regarding the night my parents died. There are too many people unaccounted for. Everyone was terrified when the break-in happened. No one can remember who was in the safe rooms with them, save the person on their immediate right and left. Half my nobles claim to be in places where no one else seems to have seen them.

  “Ampelios has been looking into who might have poisoned my gloves two months ago. He’s found nothing. And the terrible thing is, I don’t know if that’s true, or if he’s in on it because he’s one of my council members.

  “Now we’ve had a new attack, which should present us with new leads. But the assassin is dead. His body has no secrets to reveal. And all his accent and clothing suggest is that someone within my court killed my parents and is now trying to kill me. Which I already knew.”

  I let my thumb stroke over his as he talks, hoping to silently comfort him.

  “You know,” Kallias says, his voice dropping a little, “I wouldn’t blame you if you left.”

  “Left?”

  “The palace. Being close to me puts you in danger, too. You don’t have to stay. I would never force you to remain here.”

  I turn my neck, but he won’t meet my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not facing this alone.” Besides, when I’m queen, people will be trying to kill me anyway. Might as well get used to it now.

  His breath leaves him, as though he’d been holding it while waiting to hear what I would say.

  “We will figure this out together,” I say.

  Kallias nods, but I can tell it gives his troubled mind no relief.

  * * *

  WHEN I WAKE, the heat of another body curls into me, suffusing me with warmth. At first, I think to drape an arm over the man, whoever he is, but then I register two things simultaneously.

  First, I’m dressed.

  Second, the body next to mine is unusually fuzzy.

  Demodocus, it would seem, maneuvered his way back to the front of the bed whenever Kallias left. He probably went back to his own room as soon as I was out. He can’t risk falling asleep in my bed. What if I were to roll over and touch him?

  I scratch my bed companion behind the ears. “Good morning.”

  Demodocus tries to reach my face with his tongue, but I roll over and exit the bed.

  “No slobbery kisses, thank you.”

  When my maid comes to help me in the morning, a manservant also arrives to let Demodocus outside. She brings with her a simple gown, but that is no matter. Today I will begin the preparations for the ball Kallias is allowing me to throw. I think I’ll set the date for one month’s time, which means I have much to get ready. Invitations to send out. A theme to select. Decorations. Food. Table arrangements.

  But I know just the two ladies to enlist for help.

  A knock sounds at my door as soon as I’m dressed and ready to leave to start the day.

  “Lady Stathos,” a man says from the other side as he bows.

  “Lord Vasco.” The head of Kallias’s council.

  “Please do call me Ikaros.”

  I don’t return the gesture of goodwill.

  “May I come in?” he asks, glancing behind me to the queen’s greeting chamber.

  Who does he think he is, inviting himself to my room? He most certainly may not come in. And how did he know I was staying here already? He must have a spy close to Kallias. Or me.

  “I’m actually on my way out.” I pick up my skirts to cross the threshold, then head down the corridor. A small army of servants passes us by, carrying my belongings into my new rooms. “And forgive me, but I haven’t particularly enjoyed any of our past conversations. I have a hard time believing this one will be any better.”

  Ikaros follows me as I walk away.

  “I’m so very glad you were there yesterday to assist the king,” he says, ignoring everything I just said.

  I nearly trip as I come to an abrupt stop in the middle of the corridor. “Assist? Do you mean save his life?”

  He crosses his arms in front of himself as he pauses with me. “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think, considering he wouldn’t have been out there in the first place if you hadn’t been?”

  “Are you trying to suggest that I had something to do with the attempt on the king’s life?”

  He brushes invisible lint from off his robes. “Not at all. I hardly see what you would have to gain by killing the king. Your prosperous future comes from keeping him alive. Which begs the question: Why do you persist in spending time with my nephew when you are being courted by a king?”

  I continue walking, not bothering to answer things that are none of his business.

  “I know you spent an entire night with Leandros, doing gods know what. You dance with him at parties. You were seen with him outside shortly before the attack in the gardens.”

  “Are you having me followed?” I lift my skirts as we descend a set of stairs, refusing to look in his direction.

  “There are eyes everywhere. Nothing you do goes unnoticed. And if you persist in acting like a strumpet—”

  “Vasco,” I say, rounding on him, showing the utmost disrespect
by neglecting his title and refusing to use his first name once he’s given me permission. “You should be very careful of what you say to me. Right now, the king trusts me more than he does you. And someday, I will be his queen. When he comes of age and has no need of you anymore, how hard do you think it will be for me to convince him to rid you from the palace?”

  Before he can say anything, I continue, “I will spend time with whomever I like. Just because I’m courting the king, it doesn’t mean I cannot have friends. Thankfully, your nephew is nothing like you. Do not follow me from here.”

  To my back, he says, “Do try to stay focused, Alessandra. The king needs an heir, and if you do not show the proper amount of interest, he may just look elsewhere.”

  “When I’m told not to do something, I only desire to do it more,” I say before rounding the corner out of sight.

  But something bothers me about the council’s insistence on an heir from Kallias. Wouldn’t they know exactly how his powers work? And if so, wouldn’t they want him to avoid touching anyone?

  Unless they are indeed the ones trying to have him killed.

  I’m beginning to think Kallias’s fears are perfectly warranted.

  CHAPTER

  19

  I stand in the middle of the ballroom and turn in a slow circle. “We’ll need potted flowers. I want the entire ballroom lined with them. They’ll form pathways just like a flower garden.”

  Epaphras, Kallias’s appointment keeper, is less than thrilled to be in my employ for the day. (Apparently I got on his bad side when I ignored him and barged into Kallias’s meeting.) But Kallias insisted he could keep his meetings straight for one day so I could have the best of his schedulers taking notes for me. My ball is to have the utmost priority.

  At first, I thought it strange he would insist when an attempt was just made on his life. But then I realize he doesn’t want that attention on himself. He doesn’t want his people to think he’s in danger, that there’s any threat at all to him. He wants things to appear normal.

  “Why bother with pots?” Epaphras asks sarcastically. “Why don’t we just dump dirt right onto the ballroom floor?”