“I think the girl you gave your rose to might be involved. She ran into us once, do you remember? I think … someone was trying to force us to touch.”
Kallias spreads the fingers of his right hand in front of him, and shadows swirl about his hand. “It wasn’t you. I can still use them around you. We were lucky with that head bash, but—”
“Now you’re a target. Whoever sent that assassin will try again. Now that they know you are corporeal in their presence.”
The horses finally come around, and Kallias throws me onto mine before taking his own, not even bothering to tip the boy before we take off into the night.
When we’re some distance from Dawson’s, Kallias finally slows his horse’s gallop, and I pull up alongside him.
“I was right,” Kallias says at last. “It was no servant who killed my parents. Who wants me dead. Only a nobleman could have gained access to that club. I didn’t see anyone I recognized from court. Did you?”
“No. They could have been in disguise, as we were.”
Kallias pulls the wig and facial hair from his face before dropping them onto the stones at our horses’ feet. “Not that they did us any good. Whoever our contact was, he spotted us anyway.” He sighs. “I should have listened to you. We never should have gone. I’ll be dead within the week.”
“Oh, hush,” I snap. “Perfectly normal and mortal kings live to ripe old ages. You’re just used to protecting yourself. All you need is to take precautions. More guards stationed in the palace. And you hire for yourself a personal guard of only the best soldiers to follow you wherever you go.”
“That didn’t save my father.”
“Your father didn’t know to look for danger within his own court. You do. When we get back to the palace, you will make the proper arrangements. And don’t let Kaiser select the men. If he’s in on it, he will not pick the best candidates for your protection. You find the best men for the job yourself.”
Kallias doesn’t say anything in response.
“I don’t want to hear any more talk of you resigning yourself to death. Yes, you’re a target. That’s part of being born a royal. But you’re not stupid, and you’re not dying on me. Do you understand?”
A grin has replaced his solemn expression. “If you command it.”
“I do.”
“Well, a lady must always get what she wants.”
When we reach the palace, Kallias walks me to my room. He promises to make arrangements for his safety as soon as he leaves me.
“See that you do,” I say. “I have no intention of losing my best friend.”
Kallias opens his mouth. Shuts it again. Then, “You and I are playing a very dangerous game.”
I pull off my wig, letting it dangle from my fingers as I shake out my real hair. “It was only a little bit of dress-up. And a small fall. Hardly dangerous,” I assure him, offering a smile.
Kallias’s eyes bore into me with all the force of a burning comet. “I wasn’t speaking of that game.” His eyes dart down to my lips briefly, before he turns on one heel and walks away.
* * *
WHEN MY EYES FLUTTER open the next morning, the most delicious feeling of happiness wafts over me. Confused, I search through my memory. Thinking perhaps I’d had a pleasant dream.
Kallias’s face rises to the surface, and my whole body heats. Yes, I’d dreamed of him. We’d finally grown close physically. But as I try to remember the details—where exactly he touched me, where he kissed me, where his teeth had nipped at my skin—there is nothing. Only a haze. And frustration overcomes the feeling of happiness.
I throw my head back onto my pillow. What is happening to me?
I do not like the king. He is a means to an end. And while I will deeply enjoy consummating our marriage, there is nothing else Kallias is useful for.
I don’t care if he makes me laugh. Or if at times he seems to know me better than I do myself. And who the devils cares if he’s a perfect fifteen?
These thoughts won’t do at all.
My maid draws me a bath, and she blessedly doesn’t ask any questions as she washes the cigar smoke from my hair. Once I’m dressed and all done up, I’ve decided on the proper course of action for the day. I need to do something to remind myself of why I’m here.
The old crone who serves as the castle’s royal healer will have a number of medicinal herbs within her storeroom, if I can find it. I will take the necessary ingredients with which to poison Kallias when it comes time.
* * *
SOMETIME LATER I’M ON my way back to my rooms, my pocket holding a vial of distilled minalen, a plant native to Pegai. Might as well keep with the ruse used by the other assassin.
My mind eases as I feel much more resolute in my task.
As I pass by a window, a blur catches my attention. Outside, Kallias walks with a small troop of men surrounding him. His shadows rise about him in full force. Even from here, when I can’t see the details of his face, my heart skips a beat.
This man who gives me what I ask. Who makes time for me when he’s so dreadfully busy ruling six kingdoms. Who takes me with him on dangerous missions because he trusts me. A man who challenges me in wits, in scheming. Who values my opinion and implements my ideas for catching bandits and traitors.
A man who sets my blood to racing without even touching me. Who can warm my heart with a look.
Suddenly, the treasonous vial within my pocket feels heavier than a bag of rocks. I hurry along to my room, casting it into the deepest recesses of my wardrobe.
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. But I do know one thing.
No one but me is allowed to decide when Kallias Maheras, king of six realms and counting, is going to die.
* * *
I DON’T SIT BY Kallias at lunch that day. Instead, I cram myself into the seat next to Rhoda before another lady can take it. The lady in question gives me an affronted look, but I ignore her. Just as I ignore the heat on the side of my face that is no doubt a result of the look Kallias must be giving me. He saw me stride with purpose into this seat. And he thankfully doesn’t demand I join him at the front. Perhaps he can tell I need a little space.
Maybe that space will set everything to rights.
“You’re not sitting with the king today?” Rhoda asks, eyeing the empty seat at Kallias’s right.
“I want to sit with my friend. Is that a crime?”
Rhoda looks at me doubtfully. “Are you and Kallias fighting?”
“No.” Before she can ask another question, I add, “I would rather not speak of it.”
“Very well.”
Rhoda’s manservant, Galen, trots over to her and places her napkin in her lap. He proceeds to do the same for me before another servant gets the chance.
“Thank you, Galen,” I say.
“Of course, my lady.”
Then he returns to stand by the wall, but I let my gaze linger on Galen a moment longer.
He’s staring at Rhoda. Not in the way an attentive servant would stare, waiting to be of some use. But in the way a man stares at a woman he wants.
I’ve noticed this before, and I still can’t quite believe how blind to it Rhoda seems.
I tuck the thought away as I note the extra guards by every exit of the room. Good. Kallias still has his shadows cloaked about him, however, so whoever touched him at Dawson’s isn’t in the room with us now.
I turn my back, spot all five council members there. Kallias meets my gaze as I swivel back around.
Yes, not them, that looks says.
But it could have been that they ordered someone to touch him. A whore or other member of the nobility not stationed at court. Someone who would never be suspect, because they’re not involved. Until now. Until someone in Kallias’s court offered them something they couldn’t resist. Something to risk treason. Or perhaps they don’t even know. Kallias was in disguise. They could have been paid simply to run into him. To touch him. They’d think it an odd request. But given enough
money, people won’t ask questions.
“Where’s Hestia?” I ask as food is placed before me.
“Don’t you spot her?” Rhoda inclines her head farther down the table.
My eyes widen. I’d been looking for someone wearing purple, as that is what I’d worn yesterday. But Hestia is wearing a cream-colored gown that suits her skin tone nicely. She’s seated next to Lord Paulos.
“That must be going well, then.”
“I daresay it is. She looks happy. Now you both have your beaus, and I’ll be alone at the table forevermore.”
“Nonsense,” I say as I bring a spoon of broth up to my lips. “You will find your love match, Rhoda. It’s only a matter of time. What about Rhouben?”
“He was engaged to Melita not long ago.”
“So? He’s not anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t think he’s right for me. Didn’t you see the way he would nag at Melita? I don’t put up with that sort of thing.”
“But he wouldn’t nag you,” I protest. “He’ll adore you!”
“No. I don’t think we’re suited for each other.”
“What about Petros? It is well known he likes ladies as well as lords.”
“Courtiers are too drawn to him. I’d get jealous.”
“But he’d never betray your trust, physically or otherwise.”
“I would still get jealous.”
“Then what of Leandros?” I ask.
She quirks a brow. “Are you just going through the names of everyone you know at court? Besides, I thought you might have something with Leandros—something on the side for when the king upsets you.”
As if he can sense we’re talking about him, Leandros looks up from farther down the table. He sees me watching him and smiles warmly.
“I take that back,” Rhoda says. “I don’t want anyone who is already smitten with you.”
I grin, realizing she’s left me the perfect opening. “What you need is to start paying attention to someone who is already smitten with you.”
Rhoda looks around the room meaningfully. “Who?”
“He’s not sitting at the tables. He’s against the wall.”
Her eyes zero in on the man instantly. “You mean Galen?”
“He is in love with you, Rhoda. You spend most of your time with him; surely you’ve noticed?”
She purses her lips in thought, as though replaying in her mind every moment she’s ever shared with him. “He’s my servant. A commoner.”
So very true, and if it were me, that would mean the man is far beneath my notice. But this is Rhoda, and she isn’t like me at all.
“I’ve never taken you for the kind of woman who would care for class distinctions, especially when you’ve said yourself you don’t need to marry for money or a title. Besides, your ranking system went for looks, manners, and personality. Title wasn’t included. And Galen is a fifteen for you, Rhoda. By your own designs, you really should have snatched him up already.”
“I…” Her voice drifts off as she stares at Galen against the wall in a new light, a carefully considering look upon her face.
“Just invite him to my ball. Get him something to wear. Tell him it’s an honor for being so devoted to you all these years. You can have a night of no expectations, yet a moment to see him in a new light. You don’t have to marry him to have some fun with him.”
She looks unconvinced.
“If you don’t invite him,” I say. “I will.”
She shoots me a glare before turning her focus to her food. But I can see I’ve planted a strong seed in her mind. She only needs time for it to grow.
* * *
I DON’T SAY ANOTHER word about Galen during our time in the sitting room that afternoon. Having already completed my last outfit, I work on my dress for my upcoming ball in silence. Hestia regales the whole room with how romantic and delightful her Lord Paulos is.
“We play quite a lot of cards,” she says. “I love how he challenges me during our games. And do you know? He used to smoke a cigar during every game, but I finally admitted how much I detest the smell. He hasn’t smoked anything since. He said”—she pauses to lower her voice dramatically—“that when he kisses me the first time, he doesn’t want to taste like ash, now knowing how I loathe it. Can you think of anything more romantic?”
“How long do you think it will be before he kisses you?” Rhoda asks.
“I don’t know! I can only guess he must intend to do it soon if he quit those awful things.”
Afterward, I return my work in progress up to my rooms and try to decide what to do with myself until dinnertime. Perhaps I should see what Rhouben and Petros and Leandros are up to. It has been a while since I’ve spent time with them. I haven’t even seen Rhouben since I got him out of his marriage with Melita.
I close the door to my rooms without properly looking down the hallway first. That must be why Leandros is so easily able to surprise me.
I place a hand over my heart. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry! I thought you saw me.”
I wave away his apology as I deposit the key to my room into a pocket of my dress. “I was actually going in search of you and your friends. Thought I’d see what the lot of you were up to this afternoon. My schedule is quite free.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I was hoping to speak with you.” He points his face toward the ground, as though suddenly shy. It’s a rather odd look for Leandros, who is usually so full of himself, I fear his large head might explode.
I duck down to find his eyes and bring his head back up. “Concerning?”
“Could we perhaps talk in your rooms?”
I don’t know why, but I have the distinct feeling I should not invite him into my rooms. It’s not that I fear being alone with him or fear him in any way, but I think this might be a better conversation to have out in the open.
“We’re alone here,” I say lamely. “Go on.”
If he’s put out by my indirect refusal, he doesn’t show it. “I received your invitation to your ball. I’m quite eager to attend. I thought to ask what you’re wearing, so we might match.”
“We can’t match,” I say, allowing my voice to raise in volume playfully. “However would that look?”
“Like I’m besotted with you,” he says, his voice a tad too serious for comfort.
“No, it would look as though I’m a woman whose attentions stray far too easily.”
“It isn’t straying, if you agreed to be mine.”
“Leandros—”
“No, let me finish, Alessandra. I know I joke quite a bit, but let me assure you I’m very serious right now. I am besotted with you. And I don’t want to be an afterthought. I don’t want to be who you turn to when Kallias casts you aside.
“I want to be your first choice. And maybe I’ve never made it clear that I am a choice for you. I like you, and if you let me, I know I could love you. My title might not be as fancy as Kallias’s, nor my pocketbook quite as deep, nor my estate quite so large.
“But my heart is bigger, Alessandra. And I would love you completely, wholly, as a woman ought to be loved. I won’t hide behind shadows. I won’t love you from afar. I won’t only take parts of you. I want all of you. Mind, body, soul. I want to be with you. Always.
“I tend to hide myself behind humor, but not this time. Not with you. I am interested. You are the only woman at court who interests me, and I would make you mine if you also wanted me.” He takes a breath. “I don’t expect you to answer now. I’ve had weeks to think this all through. And you haven’t had even a minute, but I do hope you will think on it.”
His body turns as if to leave, but, realizing he’s not quite done yet, he reaches for my fingers. He keeps his eyes on mine as he slides off my glove, slowly releasing each finger before tugging the whole thing off. The kiss he gives the back of my hand is not soft, not gentle. But purposeful, lingering, full of the passion he feels.
It’s a reminder that he can touch
me. He will touch me if I choose him, and Kallias won’t.
I cannot lie, the contact is delicious, but that is all it is. Skin touching skin. My feelings for Leandros don’t traverse so deep.
“You’ve always been a good friend to me,” I say when at last he drops my hand. “I have treasured our time together. And I know that if I were to choose you, I would be…” Not quite happy. Content, perhaps. For a time. “It would be a smart match. I know you would be kind and fun always. And I’m more than tempted because of all the things you can offer me that he can’t.”
His face falls. “But.”
Oh, but this hurts. What am I doing? It’s not in me to be kind. Especially not to men. But it’s so unfair to him to treat him this way. To give him hope.
“But,” I intone, “I’ve already promised myself in courtship to him. It’s not fair to you to pretend that my intentions might be changed.” There’s no need to clarify who him is, and it seems wrong to say another man’s name aloud when Leandros is professing his love.
“He will never love you,” Leandros says. His tone isn’t unkind, only explanatory. “He will never marry you or touch you or be with you in all the ways you deserve. What do you plan? To forever live a half-life with him?”
I am shocked by the sudden realization that I would rather have this life. This life of Kallias’s trust and friendship, of helping him to rule a kingdom without having any real power, just a king’s ear—I would rather have all of that than another fling with a man who will just give me jewels because he likes the things I do to him in bed.
Of course, it wouldn’t be like that with Leandros. He would care for me more than that, but I can’t do that to him. Not when he has always been so kind to me.
“It is my life to do with what I will,” I say. “And I’ve told you my decision.”
Leandros nods to himself. “Do you love him?”
Of course not, I think. I do not do such childish things as fall in love. Love made me into a murderess. It broke me for a time. I had to build myself back up.
But there is certainly something brewing between the king and me.
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