The Shadows Between Us

by Tricia Levenseller

  Because there was Hektor.

  But—

  Kallias knows I killed Hektor. He knows all my secrets, and he doesn’t care. He wants me in spite of them. Because of them, even.

  “Please say something,” he says.

  “You made this decision before the attack tonight?”

  He nods.

  “You’ve wanted me … from the beginning?”

  Another nod.

  And I realize that if I tell him no, I’ll be just as he was. Alone because I’m terrified to be vulnerable. But I can get past that, as he is now, and I can have it all.

  The power.

  The kingdom.

  The man.

  “Come here,” I say, because my feet still ache slightly, and I also don’t know if I can move with the way he’s looking at me.

  Kallias keeps his eyes on mine as he removes his gloves and lets them fall to the floor.

  I swallow.

  Between one blink and the next he’s before me. He raises one hand, cups my cheek. I lean into that touch. The one I’ve been craving for so long.

  Then Kallias lifts me, holds me with one arm at my back and the other beneath my knees. My arms go to his neck, and I draw his face toward mine.

  “I wanted to do this the very first time I saw you,” I say before our lips touch.

  And then I’m aflame.

  There is no softness or patience to this kiss. For Kallias, it is one he has waited a whole year for. And for me, I feel as though I’ve waited my whole life.

  He stumbles slightly as he tries to veer around the tub without breaking the kiss, and I laugh against his lips before he silences me with his mouth.

  I don’t know how he manages not to drop me. But he makes it all the way to my bed. All while giving the utmost attention to my lips.

  I’m flat on my back while he holds himself above me, his mouth moving to investigate the slope of my neck.

  “Promise me—” I start, and then I lose my train of thought as he finds a spot at the base of my throat and runs his teeth across it.

  I put my hands on his shoulders, pushing him away for a moment, just so I can collect my thoughts. “Promise me you won’t send me away because I’m the one making you mortal. Promise me you won’t change your mind later and decide I’m not enough for the price of mortality.”

  His breathing is ragged, but he manages to focus. “I swear it, Alessandra. You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine.”

  He sits back on his knees and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

  I follow his fingers with my eyes, watching as each inch of his beautiful skin is revealed.

  I don’t like being on uneven footing, so I sit up, too. He draws his shirt away from his chest and tosses it to the ground, and I understand.

  I place the palm of my hand flat against his chest, and he closes his eyes. He hasn’t been touched in so long. And what he wants right now—what he needs—is to be touched.

  My hands do a thorough search of his chest, and then I replace them with my lips, feeling every muscle, every slope, every smooth and coarse surface.

  I lay him back, climb atop him, let him feel the weight of my body. My hair slides against his cheeks as I kiss the stubble at his chin, and then I move to his neck, up to his ear, grab the lobe between my teeth and tongue.

  And then, as though he can’t stand it anymore, he rolls us, effectively sliding me underneath him. My dress hitches up, and one of his thighs goes between mine, nudging upward—

  And then I’m gasping, but he covers the sound with his mouth.

  I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t—

  Kallias slows the kiss. Draws each connection of our lips out almost lazily, as if he has all the time in the world.

  My senses return, and I just enjoy the feel of him, the heat of him, the way his clever lips move across mine.

  The Shadow King is the most patient man in the world. He kisses me for hours. He plays with me, speeding the kisses up for a time and then slowing them down, as if to see how close he can bring himself to the brink of control before calming back down.

  He never takes off his pants. He never takes off my dress. He doesn’t even let his hands stray to fun places.

  And I’m so terrified that he’ll change his mind. That he’ll send me away. That he’ll decide he doesn’t want me anymore—as Hektor did—that I don’t try to push anything. As badly as I want him, I let him control the pace and speed at which we go.

  Just for tonight. When things are new and terrifying.

  Perhaps that is what he needs. To ease himself back into remembering what it is like to feel.

  * * *

  WHEN I WAKE, I try to cling to the remnants of a delicious dream. There was me and Kallias and—

  But when my eyes open, I find him in bed next to me, one gloveless, shirtless arm slung over my middle.

  Not a dream.

  A beautiful reality.

  My Shadow King.

  His eyes crack open, and he just stares at me, as though startled. But then he collects himself. “That’ll take some getting used to.”

  “Waking up to another face?”

  “Waking up to a face that isn’t Demodocus’s. As much as I love him, I much prefer yours.” His hand snakes forward to cup my face, and he draws me in for a sweet kiss.

  An hour or so later, he leaves me to dress in his own room, but he doesn’t bother to shut the door that usually separates us, so that we might talk.

  “I’m having your things moved in here,” he says.

  “Moved where? Into your room?”

  “Into our room. We’ll knock down this wall. Make it one great room. I don’t care. But you’re sleeping with me. There will be no your-bed-and-my-bed nonsense.” His next words are muffled, as though he says them while pulling a shirt over his head. “Unless you really want your own bedroom…” It sounds as though the words cost him greatly.

  I smile, not answering right away because it’ll drive him mad. Finally, I say, “I don’t need my own room.”

  “Good. I’ll order the staff to move your things over immediately. We’ll get some builders up here to take out the wall while we’re away on our honeymoon.”

  “We’re going away for our honeymoon?”

  He appears in the doorway, not having bothered to ask if I’m dressed. “A very long one.”

  While I managed to get my dress over my head, I can’t do the laces in the back. “Will you help me, or should I ring for a maid?”

  He doesn’t say anything, and in the next instant I feel his fingers sweeping my hair over my shoulder. He works at the strings on my back, pausing every other one to add a kiss to the back of my neck. When he’s done, I reach for my gloves, but Kallias plucks them out of my fingers and tosses them away.

  “No gloves.” And he grabs my fingers with his, lacing them together.

  “You’ve suddenly become so much more demanding.”

  “And I think you love it,” he says, pulling me close, running his nose along my neck.

  Oh, but I do.

  * * *

  A WHOLE SLEW OF guards accompanies us down to the dungeons.

  It will take some time, I think, to adjust to how many are appropriate throughout the castle, now that Kallias will be vulnerable to attack constantly, just like any normal man.

  When we’re let through a thick door with a barred opening at the top, I’m glad I didn’t wear one of my own designs down here. The ground is positively filthy. I suspect it’s never been cleaned.

  Every step echoes loudly, and lit torches shine from their sconces. Electric wires must never have been installed down here. Why would they need to be? Criminals don’t need the light.

  “Ikaros first,” Kallias says, and a burly man with a ring of keys leads us through a maze of cells before stopping before an occupied one.

  Lord Vasco—just Vasco now that I suppose he’ll be stripped of his title—stands with his back toward the bars, facing an abandoned corner. Th
e other corner holds naught but a bucket, and I don’t want to think about what it’s used for.

  No plumbing down in the dungeons, either, it would seem.

  “I just want to know one question,” Kallias says. “Why?”

  Vasco doesn’t turn, doesn’t make any movements to indicate he heard our approach at all. He keeps his head firmly toward the corner as though it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

  “My father and mother—” Kallias swallows. “They loved you. You had their respect. Why would you do that to them?”

  Again, no response.

  “You wanted the power, is that it? Without the Maheras line, you thought you would rule instead? Well, you wouldn’t have. I have third cousins. They would take the throne before you ever would. So why?”

  When Vasco doesn’t move, Kallias screams. “WHY?” The sound bounces off the walls, and I resist the urge to cover my ears with my hands. I only stand by Kallias’s side, holding his hand for support. This issue is personal to him. I will respect him by letting him deal with it in any way he sees fit.

  When the echoes die completely, Kallias tries again. “Did you think I would be easy to control? Is that it? You thought I would be your puppet king? And when I wasn’t, you thought to get rid of me as well?”

  Still, no movement.

  Kallias turns, taking me with him back down the hallway, but he says over his shoulder, “You have three days to think it over. After that, we resort to less pleasant means of getting information out of you.” To the guard, “Take us to Zervas now.”

  “Your parents weren’t who you thought they were,” a cold voice says from behind us. Kallias halts but doesn’t turn.

  “You were never supposed to be king,” Vasco continues. “Your father deserved what happened.”

  Kallias’s grip tightens on my fingers, and I wrap my free hand around his upper arm.

  “To Lady Zervas’s cell,” I tell the guard. And we put Vasco behind us.

  We’re led down another corridor, and where Vasco’s cell was initially as silent as a tomb, Zervas’s rings with music.

  She’s singing.

  I can’t make out the words with the horrid way the cells echo, but it’s probably some little tune sung to her as a child.

  I suppose one has to pass the time somehow.

  Once she hears our footsteps, she silences, watching us as we come into view.

  She sighs dramatically. “Are you here to let me out?”

  “No,” Kallias says.

  “Well, then, let me know when you are here to let me out.” And she resumes her singing.

  What the devils?

  “You’re locked up for murder,” I tell her. “You should take this more seriously.”

  Her voice cuts off again. “I’m not the one responsible for the late king’s and queen’s deaths. I’ve never raised a hand to Kallias. When the real murderer strikes again, I will be released.”

  “You matched a description perfectly.”

  “A description given by whom?” she asks.

  Neither Kallias nor I dare to say, “A little girl.”

  “Either it was from a highly unreliable source, or it was from someone who was in on it. Someone who wants you to think it’s me so you will let down your guard. Honestly, the person behind the attack has my utmost respect. I’m a perfect scapegoat. I have the means and the motive. But while I did want your dear father to suffer as he did, I’m not the one who killed him. And there’s no reason why I should want to kill you.

  “If I were you, I’d be very careful. And honestly, perhaps you should take a closer look at her.” It takes me a moment to realize she’s speaking about me. “After all, love is an excellent motivator to kill.”

  And then she resumes singing.

  CHAPTER

  28

  Kallias and I join the rest of the nobles for lunch in the great hall. We need to be a strong and united front for all the courtiers to see. Kallias is undaunted by the attack on his life. He is as strong as ever. And everyone is here to witness it.

  Save Vasco, Zervas, and Orrin, of course.

  I lean forward in my seat. “Rhoda, where is Galen? Why isn’t he joining us?”

  Rhoda turns her head to stare at the man leaning against the wall with the other servants. She pivots back around, a forlorn look on her face. “He wouldn’t come. Said it would put too much pressure and attention on me. Can you believe it? He’s worried about me!”

  Kallias looks up from his meal. “You’re pursuing your manservant? Romantically?”

  Rhoda meets Kallias’s gaze without shame. “I am.” She raises a bite of food to her mouth.

  Kallias nods. “Would it help if I made him a lord? Gave him some land and a title?”

  Rhoda chokes.

  “I think it would,” I say.

  Rhoda takes a deep drink from her cup. “Your Majesty, I could never ask such a thing!”

  “If it would make Alessandra happy, then it’s already done.” Kallias switches his fork to his left hand. His right goes under the table.

  To my leg.

  I try to keep my face neutral at the sudden weight.

  “Oh, sire, thank you! But I have plenty of land for the two of us. He doesn’t need it. But a title! We would be honored to accept that.”

  “Then I will make it all official and have my man draw up all the particulars. We’ll gift it to him in public to help do away with the suspicion about you two.”

  Rhoda leaves the table abruptly and runs over to Galen. She takes him by the hand before leading him from the room.

  Meanwhile, Kallias’s hand slides to the inside of my thigh. I don’t know how he manages it while also bringing food to his lips. I nearly drop my spoon when his thumb rubs over an especially sensitive spot. I’m so glad I opted for a dress with thin skirts today.

  Even though it makes it impossible to focus on a single word Hestia is saying.

  Something about inviting me to visit with her at Lord Paulos’s estate. Or maybe—

  Kallias’s hand slides higher.

  Oh, that wicked man.

  “Forgive me,” I say, standing from the table, “but I’m not feeling so well. I think I’ll retire to my rooms.”

  I practically run from the table, hoping to hide the heat in my cheeks and my quickened breath. I don’t spare Kallias a glance.

  * * *

  WHEN I REACH MY ROOM, I dismiss all the servants who had begun moving my things over to Kallias’s rooms. They appear to have made it through my vanity and washroom but stopped just shy of the wardrobe.

  Perhaps I should consider a cool bath.

  There’s a knock, followed by the door opening. Kallias, of course.

  “You’re unwell? Why didn’t you say—”

  I throw myself at him, layering hot, openmouthed kisses on him. Though startled at first, he soon returns them in kind. Lavender-mint fills my senses, and his mouth has the light taste of wine.

  I lean him against the nearest wall, fusing our bodies together, let my hands slide the jacket off his shoulders.

  “I’m just fine,” I say as I pull back slightly to deal with a button that’s impeding my progress. “You, however, are in trouble.”

  “For what?” he asks innocently.

  “Distracting me to the point of not being able to eat my meal.”

  He spins us around, spins me around, so my front is pressed against the wall, my head turned to the side to look at him.

  “That doesn’t seem right,” he says. “All I did was…”

  And then he’s bending down, pulling up my skirts so he can trace the same path he did under the table, only this time on my bare skin. Meanwhile, his lips are exploring the back of my neck, and I’m trapped, helpless to do anything but feel him as his fingers explore higher and higher.

  When I can’t take it any longer, I push off from the wall, spin to face him. His lips find mine, and his fingers are in my hair, pulling out the pins I used to hold it up this morning
.

  I place my hands at my back, trying to reach the laces holding my dress together. I need it off. Now. There is too much between his body and mine.

  Once he realizes what I’m doing, he says, “No.” He steps backward. “No,” he repeats.

  And I think I might scream if he tries to stop this, if he—

  “Let me,” he adds.

  In mere seconds my dress is gone, and I’m before him in my chemise.

  He looks me over slowly, at the skin he can view beneath the practically see-through material.

  “If I were a better man, I would send you away,” he says. “My life is dangerous. There’s always someone trying to kill me. Even if this threat has been dealt with, there will be others. You could get hurt by being close to me.”

  “Good thing you’re not a better man.” I take off his cravat, start on the buttons of his shirt. “Why?” I ask. “Why didn’t you take me last night?”

  “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to. Or if you wanted to wait until after the wedding. You didn’t—”

  “I want to.” I rip off the last button after it slips through my fingers for the second time.

  And then he carries me to the bed.

  The Shadow King, it turns out, was well worth the wait.

  * * *

  THE FORMER QUEEN’S SITTING room is now my sitting room. I still have a mind to redecorate it, but for now it’s the perfect place for Rhoda, Hestia, and I to spend some time alone.

  Especially when I have so much to tell them.

  “What was it like?” Hestia wants to know. “Being with a king?”

  “It was … better than anything I could have imagined,” I say. “But I don’t think it had anything to do with the fact that Kallias is a king.”

  It is his patience, his ability to hold himself back until the right moment that makes him such a good lover.

  “What of you and Lord Paulos?” I ask. “Have you two…?”

  “No,” she says simply. “I asked him if we could wait until after the wedding.”

  “Has he pressured you?” I ask, suddenly growing protective of my friend.