I yanked the towel away and turned to find Kris wiping tears from her eyes.
‘Stephanie is my daughter. Philippe is like a son to me.’
‘Stephanie is your daughter?’ I asked incredulously. She nodded.
‘And Philippe got death?’
‘Death,’ Kris said, her lips quivering. ‘He did wrong, but he doesn’t deserve death.’
Though I felt for Kris, I couldn’t dredge up any sympathy for Philippe.
Kris blew her nose into an embroidered handkerchief and sighed.
‘Well, I can’t stand here talking. My shift is over and I have to be with my poor Stephanie. She is devastated.’
I couldn’t find any appropriate words, so I said nothing and simply watched as she exited the room.
Within two minutes Stephanie appeared at my door. Her face was puffy and red from crying.
So this was how my day was going to be: a steady stream of visitors all bent on making me feel like I should be guilty for Philippe’s sentence.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, because the silence was uncomfortable and thick.
She stared at me for a long time, her glare icy.
‘I thought you were my friend, Miranda. I rehearsed with you. Philippe was your partner,’ she spat.
I stared at her in disbelief.
‘Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard but Philippe attacked me,’ I said, a flame of anger stoking up inside me.
‘You must have done something to make him do it,’ she said bitterly, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
‘He came into my room!’ I said, my voice raising an octave higher.
‘You must have invited him.’
‘Get out,’ I said, my voice barely a whisper, my own eyes burning with tears.
Stephanie’s eyes welled with tears.
‘Talk to Marko, Miranda. Please. You are the only one who can plead for Philippe’s life.’ She seized my hand and kneaded my palm with her thumb.
I started to shake my head but she widened her eyes.
‘You have to try.’
‘I don’t think he’s going to listen to me. He’s the king. He makes his own decisions.’
‘You have to change his mind. I can’t bear to see my beautiful Philippe torn apart.’ Stephanie’s face screwed up with grief, and I stupidly felt sorry for her.
‘I’ll try,’ I said.
She sniffed, wiped at her eyes again and released my hand.
‘Thank you,’ she said in a hoarse voice, ‘Thank you, Miranda. I don’t hate you—I don’t.’
* * *
Marko arrived at nine o’clock and as soon as he clapped eyes on me he grinned.
‘Good morning, Miranda. I hope those dreams of yours didn’t keep you up all night.’
I breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t know about Robbie’s visit.
‘There was nothing worth dreaming about,’ I said, shrugging.
He started to smile but then frowned when he noticed my hair.
‘Your hair is wet,’ he said, eyes darkening. ‘My mother died after giving birth to me. Her hair was wet with sweat and she caught a chill.’ He stepped forward to brush a stray strand of hair from my face before picking up the towel.
‘Let me dry it for you,’ he said.
The door closed behind us and my stomach tickled with nerves at the idea of being alone in my room with him. More because of what I would do than he.
‘Sit down.’ He patted the bed and half-smiled when I hesitated. ‘I’m not going to bite.’
I sat down.
The bed squeaked as he climbed onto the mattress to kneel behind me. His manly scent and the closeness of his body warmed the blood in my veins. If I reclined an inch I’d feel the hardness of his chest against my back.
Tingles spread from my scalp and down my spine as he gently rubbed the towel over my hair. I shivered as his warm breath tickled my neck. It was nothing like the Kris experience.
‘There,’ he said, running his fingers through my long strands and catching them on the knots. ‘Where’s the comb?’
I sighed and handed it over, gasping when his fingers grazed the base of my neck.
‘Done,’ he said, tossing the comb aside when he’d finished.
‘Thanks.’ My face throbbed with heat.
He moved to sit beside me, our thighs brushing as he dangled his long, boot-clad legs over the edge of the mattress.
‘I’ve planned brunch in the garden, just the two of us.’
The way he was looking at me was doing things to my body, so I stared down at my chewed-down nails.
‘Getting to know each other will make things easier in the long run,’ he said softly.
I sucked in a deep breath and looked Marko in the eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see through me.
‘I agree.’
Marko drew his head back and raised his brows. ‘You actually want to spend time with me?’
I nodded. ‘Yes. Of course I do. If we’re going to get married I should at least know your favourite colour and whether or not you like peas with your mash.’
Marko’s eyes sparkled with amusement.
‘I’m so glad you’ve warmed to the idea of our union so quickly, Miranda. We can move faster now. Make plans.’ He watched me carefully, with skeptical eyes.
Sweat dampened my palms and I swallowed thickly. ‘Fast is good.’
Marko turned his head to hide a smile and got to his feet. He offered his hand.
I grasped it and pulled myself to my feet.
‘So, tell me Miranda, was it my supreme dancing skills last night or is it simply the lure of my face?’
Unable to stop myself, I burst out laughing, unleashing all that pent up tension.
He nodded. ‘The face. It’s always the face.’
I shook my head and giggled. The pad of his thumb brushed my palm and I had to bite my lip so I didn’t gasp or make some kind of embarrassing noise.
‘I’ve arranged extra light crystals in the garden today. It should be nice and warm.’
I pictured walking with bare feet on the grass, warm sunlight on my back, and smiled. We walked down the corridor hand in hand, in silence.
Once outside, I leaned over the balcony to enjoy the city views, wondering for a brief moment what it would really feel like if I stayed and forgot about the outside world, forgot the mess I’d left behind and the lives I’d ruined. The idea was somewhat alluring.
‘Have you truly warmed to the idea of living in Marin, Miranda?’ Marko asked while we shared the view. His eyes were far away, somewhere on the fringes of the city.
‘Yes,’ I said, watching him from the corner of my eye. ‘I want to leave my past behind. There’s nothing for me back home.’
He sighed and turned around resting his arms on the balcony ledge.
‘Sylvia keeps pestering me for a wedding date.’
I swallowed thickly.
‘What did you tell her?’
He snorted. ‘I said it was between me and you.’
I smiled. It was hard not to like him when he said things like that.
Birds chirped. I followed their noisy chatter and song into the gardens. As soon as I reached the grass, I kicked off my boots and socks. I visited my little feathered friends, my fellow captives. But I was dismayed to find only one toucan.
As I stood there, staring at the lone bird, Loop, Marko came to stand beside me.
‘Unfortunately some bird species don’t survive down here for long.’
I studied the solitary toucan for a minute or so before I spoke.
‘They must need real sunlight, and sky and fresh air—to be able to flap their wings and fly from tree to tree. They need their freedom.’
In a burst of rebellion, I unlatched the cage door and set the bird free. It took a while to get going but, after several attempts, it soared out of the garden and over the city lights.
Marko cursed softly, stoking up the already simmering anger inside of me.
‘Do you pref
er it to suffer in the cage?’ I asked.
He shook his head.
‘Of course I don’t.’ He glanced over the city, his eyes dark. ‘The bird will fly into the crystal dome repeatedly until it dies.’
I groaned. It was true. I had the touch of death.
‘It’s not your fault,’ said Marko, gently. ‘You didn’t know.’
‘I should have known,’ I muttered, thinking about my parents, Aiden and now the bird. I met Marko’s gaze. ‘If you want to marry me, be prepared for the kiss of death. I’m serious.’
Marko watched me for a long moment, but said nothing and steered me away from the aviaries to another part of the garden I had yet to see.
‘You’re going to like what you see next,’ he said, his voice forcibly upbeat.
He covered my eyes with his hands as if we were a couple in love. After we took several steps, he lifted them to reveal a large field of grass, the size of a small oval.
‘It’s a park,’ I said, my eyes eating up all the green lushness.
There were trees, too, potted in large mosaic-patterned pots. Light crystals hovered above, suspended over the garden via tall, elegantly curved metal poles much like street lamps. It gave off the illusion of dusk.
‘Fig trees?’ I called out incredulously, as I moved closer to the trees. Marko watched me as I ran my hands up and down the smooth bark of a thick trunk. It reminded me of my grandparents’ old tree.
In the centre of the lawn there was a large gold-fringed carpet laden with food and drinks.
My stomach grumbled and my mouth watered. I hadn’t eaten the breakfast Kris had left me, and I was starving. There were pickled mussels, olives, plump figs and oysters. I’d never tried oysters before and blushed, well aware of their aphrodisiac connotations. I hoped Marko wasn’t expecting me to dive into his arms after eating them.
Marko threw himself down and I sat opposite him, the food between us.
‘Oysters,’ he said with a knowing smile. He plucked one, all plump and creamy in its shell, and knelt over the picnic to bring it to my mouth. ‘Here.’
Oh, God—he wanted to feed me.
I blushed and pulled my head in hesitantly. The shell grazed my mouth and my face burned even hotter when my lower lip came into contact with Marko’s finger. I tilted my head back so that the oyster could slide down my throat the way I’d seen people in the movies do it, but when it hit my throat I coughed and gagged. Eventually, it slid down.
Though watery eyes I saw Marko’s concerned expression.
‘I’m okay,’ I said, wiping the corners of my mouth and my eyes.
He smiled and shook his head.
‘Don’t be embarrassed around me, Miranda,’ he said softly, his eyes now serious. ‘Your innocence is a rare thing here in Marin.’
I exhaled and picked at a blade of grass.
‘I like that about you—the innocence,’ he said, stretching out beneath the fake sunlight. A grin teased his lips and my stomach flip-flopped.
I shrugged out of the jacket and lay back against the rug. He sighed. Part of me wanted to ask him right now if he’d ever send me home, but it was too early, and also there was the chance he’d say never and sink my only hope. I wasn’t quite ready to hear it yet.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he suddenly asked.
I paused. ‘How good this amazing food looks,’ I said, sitting up and crossing my legs.
He smiled and sat up, too, the hilts of his daggers gleaming in the light. ‘Let’s eat.’
After my second oyster I knocked them back like a pro, keeping up with Marko, who’d called a race. We finished the meal with sweet figs drizzled in honey, and my stomach felt like it was about to burst.
‘My grandparents owned a fig tree,’ I blurted out of nowhere.
Marko leaned on one elbow, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
‘Tell me more about your family, Miranda.’
‘My dad drives—he drove trucks and my mum worked at a supermarket,’ I sat, cross-legged, and gripped my ankles. ‘But her real passion in life was writing screenplays, for movies.’ I met Marko’s eyes and swallowed. ‘They died last year in a car crash.’
He breathed in sharply and exhaled, slowly, through his nose.
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Is that why you’ve chosen to remain here?’ Marko chewed on a blade of grass, not taking his eyes off me.
I shrugged and cast my gaze to the rug. ‘I guess so.’
‘Tell me about movies. I’ve read about them, but have never experienced one.’
He was changing the subject to cheer me up.
‘They’re like books, stories brought to life. You get to see real people embody the characters and tell the story. Some movies are just great for laughs, like comedies, some are romantic and you fall in love with the people on the screen, and some movies are true works of art and leave you thinking about the characters for months or even years later—just like a good book.’
‘So why do you need movies, then? If they are so like books?’ he asked, tossing an olive at me. It landed in the crook of my arm. I frowned and popped it into my mouth.
‘Because sometimes,’ I paused to swallow the salty olive, ‘sometimes we need to connect to the world on a visual level and see the beauty of a real human being experiencing emotions and baring their soul, because in real life lots of people are too scared to do that anymore.’
‘Go on,’ he said, smiling softly. ‘Maybe one day we can experience a movie together.’ He tossed another olive at me. This time I caught it in my mouth. I threw one back and it landed in his wine, which started me giggling.
‘You don’t experience movies. You watch them.’
His shrugged, but his cheeks tinted pink.
‘Do you have any siblings?’ He fished the olive out with his fingers and popped it into his mouth.
I nodded.
‘I have a sister, Lauren. She’s beautiful.’ I smiled at the vision inside my mind. ‘All the boys back home are in love with her. She has a new boyfriend nearly every week.’ I blabbed on, unable to stop myself. The more I spoke about her, the more I missed her. ‘She’s funny, witty, bubbly and she’s adventurous, a risk-taker—’
‘She sounds fun,’ Marko said in a low voice. ‘But I think you’re more interesting. I’m glad Robbie made the mistake and brought you here instead.’
‘But you haven’t seen Lauren,’ I said, shaking my head and staring at him as if he’d grown an extra nose. It was impossible to imagine for one second that any man in their right mind would choose me over my sister.
‘So, if your sister is so wonderful, why are you prepared to leave her behind and stay here with me? I’m a stranger. Wouldn’t you rather be with her?’
He had me there. Hesitation brought a flush of heat to my cheeks. Marko looked smug, like a cat that had cornered a mouse. It was as though he was out to prove I was lying about wanting to stay here. It wasn’t going to be easy, pulling the wool over his eyes.
‘We haven’t really spoken in a year, since our parents died.’
He raised his brow and I raised a palm. ‘I’m not going to talk about it, so don’t ask.’
Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, he nodded his head.
‘We’ve got more in common than I thought,’ he said, tossing the strand of grass he’d been chewing over his shoulder.
I turned my head to avoid his intense stare when, through the trees, I spied Kris, tiny in the distance, rushing from the top of the staircase, across the balcony and back into the castle. She carried a large parcel under her arm.
My mind immediately sprung to Philippe in the dungeons and Stephanie’s plea. I turned back to Marko and carefully studied his face, searching for the best way to broach this.
‘Is it true that Philippe is getting thrown to the sharks?’ I asked casually.
‘Yes, it’s true. Are you happy?’
I took a deep breath, thinking how Stephanie and Kris owed me, big time. Here goes.
/> ‘I want him punished, but, I just thought, seeing as he didn’t actually hurt me, he might be kept in the dungeons instead of…instead of death.’ I plucked at another blade of grass. ‘I don’t want to be the cause of anybody’s death. I can’t bear that weight on my conscience, even though what he did was horrible.’
Marko stared at me for a long time, until his breathing laboured and a bulging vein appeared on his normally smooth forehead.
‘Just the idea of Philippe hurting you, our guest, makes me want to rip him apart myself. The fact one of Damir’s men roamed my castle…’
My eyes travelled down Marko’s arms. His rolled shirtsleeves revealed raised veins along his forearm.
He balled his hands into fists. ‘And because the laws prevent me from using my own hands—and believe me, I would, Miranda; in a second, I would kill him—I have chosen the sharks.’
I pictured Kris’s tears and Stephanie’s screwed-up face, and tried once more.
‘He would suffer in the dungeons, though. Death would be the easy way out.’
Marko rose to his feet and glared down at me.
‘Can’t you see it from my eyes? I’m protecting your honour. You’re the king’s future wife, and what sort of a message would I be sending out to the people of Marin, especially to Damir’s men, if I send Philippe on his way with only a slap on the wrist after what he did to you?’ Marko’s eyes burned with rage, his chest rising and falling in great heaves.
‘I understand, but—’ As horrible as Philippe was, I couldn’t let yet another person die because of me.
‘But nothing, Miranda. The man dies. Let’s not talk about Philippe anymore. I’m sick of hearing his name.’
I said nothing more.
Marko looked at me, his hooded eyes framed with thick, black lashes.
‘Let’s talk about us.’
I tried not to melt under his scorching stare.
‘Okay.’
‘Do you want a long engagement or a short one?’
There was something in his voice that sounded sarcastic.
‘Short,’ I said, not breaking my gaze. There was no way I was letting him out me.
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m serious, Miranda. We’re talking marriage here. I’m not joking.’
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