City of Deception (The White City Series Book 1)

by Alexa Mackintosh

  I watch as he accepts, bewilderment crossing his face. I hide my mild jealousy and wander over to an empty chair in the corner. It’s conveniently located near a bookshelf.

  City of Deception

  Thumbing my fingers over the crusted, leather spines, my heart skips when I find a copy of Romeo & Juliet.

  Pulling it from its spot, I hug it to my chest and curl up in the chair. I cross my legs and puff out my skirt to cover it. I know I’m radiating quiet, awkward girl, but I don’t care. This has been me at so many parties that I wouldn’t know what to do if someone asked me onto the dance floor.

  After the first ten pages, I dare a glance in the dance floor’s direction. Angelica and Dmitri are still dancing, and Zadie has joined them along with her partner, a blonde gentleman.

  I don’t look up again until we’re called in for dinner. Though our seats are mandated by place cards, Angelica ignores them. She takes the seat beside Dmitri, forcing a disgruntled ambassador to find another seat.

  My seat is beside Ivan ever since the engagement. He never speaks to me, only gives me a casual glance when I sit down. It’s the same every night. Usually, Zadie or Dmitri is nearby so I can talk to someone, but everyone I know is five seats or more down.

  With a sigh, I settle my attention on the first course, a creamy soup.

  Halfway into the second course, I hear Dmitri laugh.

  She made him laugh?

  “You look beautiful this evening.” My head whips towards Ivan.

  “Did you change your hair?” he asks.

  Alexa Mackintosh

  Is he speaking to me? “Georgianna wanted to try some- thing new on me.”

  “It looks good.”

  “Um…Thank you, Prince Ivan.”

  “I saw you were reading Romeo & Juliet. I don’t care for that story, but I enjoy Shakespeare’s other works, es- pecially Macbeth and Taming of the Shrew.” He goes on to mutter something under his breath. I think he says, “He’s one of the few things I’m glad the Mersiovskys in- troduced into society.”

  “He has other works?”

  He nods. “Many. You can borrow my copies if you like.” “Thank you.”

  We go on for the rest of dinner our small talk morph- ing into a deeper conversation on half a dozen topics. By the time we stand at the end of dinner, I feel refreshed and invigorated.

  I’ve never been alone with Ivan. Well, we’re not alone, but it feels like our separate bubble. No one talks to us, except one ambassador who is clearly trying to win Ivan’s favor.

  “Would you join me in the parlor for an hour? It’s time I learn more about you. I can have someone bring dessert to us,” he says.

  “I would like that.” I’m surprised to hear the words slip past my lips. He’s so different when he’s not cold.

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  As I turn to leave the dining room, I spy Angelica clutching the lapels of Dmitri’s suit jacket. She pulls him down as she leans up to kiss him.

  It takes every bit of self-control to hide my thoughts, and even then Ivan asks, “Are you alright?”

  “Could we have dinner sometime this week? I remem- bered I have something.”

  “Certainly, a rain check then. Thursday dinner per- haps?”

  “Yes.”

  I hurry out of the dining room before anyone stops me for chit chat.

  s

  It’s foolish, but I’m crying by the time I reach my room. I buzz for Georgianna the moment I cross the thresh- old. To my relief, she comes three minutes later after I’ve thrown myself in the middle of my bed and clutched a box

  of tissues to my chest.

  “Miss! What happened?” she asks. “Join me for a box of chocolates?”

  She pats my arm. “I won’t ask what happened because you can tell me on your own when and if you want. I’ll fetch you chocolates, run a warm bath and lay out your comfortable pajamas, and then I will stay here until you’ve cried it all out.”

  I sniffle. “Thank you. You don’t have to stay though unless you want to.”

  Alexa Mackintosh

  “And miss any gossip you might have? And chocolates?

  I’m staying!” I giggle.

  At least I have one honest friend in the palace.

  After Georgianna runs me through her, as she calls it, Bad Day Regime, my tears have disappeared, and we’ve eaten most of the chocolates.

  { 19 }

  Chapter 19

  Isomething.

  The light is still on, and Georgianna is curled at the

  foot of the bed, one of my shawls over her. I’m curled un- der the blankets, chocolate boxes and tissues all around us.

  Georgianna yawns and sits up. As soon as she realizes where she is, she hops off the bed.

  “My lady! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

  I rub my aching forehead. “We must have both fallen asleep.”

  Someone knocks again.

  “I’ll get it, Natalia,” Georgianna says, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

  Alexa Mackintosh

  I curl back under the blankets. I should be worried why someone’s at the door, but I’m too sleepy to care.

  “Prince Orion wants to see you,” Georgianna says a mi- nute later.

  “Tell him not now,” I mumble into the pillow.

  “He wants to show you the new kitchen. It’s finished.”

  That bolts me out of bed. “Already?” He just gave it to me, and I gave him my ideas and plans recently.

  “I’ve had the crews working on it 24/7,” he says through a small crack Georgianna left in the door.

  “Why are you inviting me somewhere in the middle of the night?” I ask as I fetch my shoes.

  “I didn’t want anyone interfering. Besides, I think we need to talk about your friend.”

  Georgianna yawns. “I’ll clean up the mess here and leave if that is alright.”

  “Go to bed. Clean up in the morning.”

  When ready, I follow him into the hall, and down a cor- ridor I do not know. We pass a few guards, but they don’t even glance our direction. We come to a staircase that leads us to the kitchen. The kitchen is empty, but a fire roars in the fireplace, and the coils on the stoves are red hot. Cabinets line one whole wall and counter the wall op- posite. There’s a massive utilitarian sink, stove, two ovens, and a marble island. Pans hang off hooks above the island, and a fridge takes up the corner beside the sink.

  “It’s exactly as I described.” He nods. “Every detail.”

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  “I’m glad you brought me down here to show me, but someone will hear us down here, and then the questions will be endless. Couldn’t we have come in the morning?”

  He glances at his watch. “It is morning. 3am, but it is still the morning.”

  He turns on the lights and dips his hands in the steri- lizing liquid beside the sink. “Either you cook breakfast and tell me how to assist, or you put up with a breakfast cooked by me. I warn: princes aren’t good cooks. We tend to be out of practice since a small army of the finest chefs prepare our meals.”

  I sigh and wipe at my eyes. I’m a little groggy since it is so early. I wash my hands and begin to think of recipes. “I can make a pastry or pie. Or, I can make a breakfast pudding or bake. I know it’s not exactly a Royal breakfast,

  but I used to make them back home.”

  Dmitri opens a cabinet and slides a torn book across the counter to me. “The cook keeps her recipes in there. You might find something you want to try.”

  I cry out in excitement. “The Royal chefs’ recipes?

  What future cook wouldn’t want to see them?”

  I turn the well-used book over in my hands, flipping through the pages and scanning recipes faster than I can ever memorize. I recognize some of the names, but most of the dishes I’m not familiar with.

  “So, what do you want to cook?” Dmitri asks.

  Alexa Mackintosh

  There are so many possibilit
ies. I close my eyes and flip to a random page. I open them and say, “Here’s a recipe for a stuffed, breakfast pastry. Looks complicated.”

  He glances over my shoulder. “My governess used to have the cooks make this for my brothers and me. Used to be one of my favorite foods as a child.”

  “Should we try it then?”

  “‘We?’ Am I promoted to your assistant then?” he teases.

  “Yes, and you must pull your weight if you want to keep the title.”

  He fakes a bow. “I expect no less, lady chef.”

  I give him a string of orders, and soon we are elbow deep in flour and sticky dough. Looking up for a minute from the dough I’m trying to knead, I spot specks of flour in Dmitri’s hair and all over his shirt. Laughing, I say, “If you want our rendezvous to remain a secret, you may want to attend to the mess you’ve managed to create.”

  He looks confused until he glances down. “Seems I won’t be wearing this tomorrow.” He tries to pat it off, but the flour flies off in a cloud. “How can you enjoy this job? It’s such a disorderly way of going about things. I like to eat, not labor to make the food.”

  “Use a damp rag to wipe it off. It’s not a ‘disorderly’ thing to do. I like being able to create what I eat. Living as a Third taught me to enjoy cooking because cooking meant there must be something worth eating. That wasn’t always true for my village.”

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  He doesn’t say anything as he sets to cleaning up the flour. We talk from time to time as we finish the dish.

  I place it in the oven, and when I rise, Dmitri stands suspiciously close. His knuckles are white, and he grips the edge of the counter as if he’s going to faint.

  Reaching out, he cups my face in his hands. His palms are sweaty, and his eyes wide.

  I look up, curiosity written across my face. I stop wip- ing my hands and place them to my side.

  “Talia, I know this will sound ridiculous and come out wrong though I practiced what I would say. I like you a great deal.”

  I smile. “I like you too. You’ve helped me adjust to the palace.”

  An unsettling silence follows.

  “I like you much more than a friend, Natalia.”

  Abruptly, he leans down and kisses me. His lips are soft, and tastes of cinnamon. He pulls away first, his eyes immediately finding mine.

  “Wh…Why?” Is the first word I can croak out.

  He shies away, resting against the counter. “I…I love you. Sounds crazy, I know. You’re engaged to Ivan and I…I should have spoken sooner, but I didn’t want you to think I was flirting with you too soon. We met a few months ago and all…” He stops suddenly as if I’d pinched him.

  He loves me? It’s one thing to wish he’d say it and an- other to hear it. I’m elated, shocked, scared. I think there

  Alexa Mackintosh

  are a few emotions coursing through my body I can’t even name.

  But why did he kiss me? Why not a basti? I mean, we aren’t that intimate, are we?

  Sure, I imagined kissing him, but not…yet. It was more a guilty thought I’d had.

  I try to formulate my thoughts and explain why I look bewildered, but I don’t know where to begin.

  “I did something wrong, didn’t I?” He runs his hands through his hair, revealing the sheen of sweat on his brow. “Oh Universes, I knew I shouldn’t do this.”

  “What you said was fine, but why kiss me?” “What?”

  I blush. “A basti would have been far more…appropri- ate. I don’t mean to sound like our parents. I suppose it is…fine.”

  He tilts his head, brow furrowed.

  I grin. “You do know what a basti is, don’t you?” He begins to nod but shakes his head.

  I giggle. “I’m so sorry I’m laughing, but how do you not know that? Doesn’t everyone old enough to…I thought if you dared to kiss me you must at least know what a basti is.”

  “Why do you think it’s strange I kissed you and not a basti instead?”

  I bite my lip.

  “Please explain. If I made a mistake, please clarify.”

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  How do I make the difference clear without making us both blush? “Married people or those that are intimate kiss. Basti is what couples do. A kiss is…is quite serious.” His face is blank for a moment before he says, “I apol- ogize! I’m serious, but…I’m so sorry. I’m more of a gentle-

  man than that.”

  How could he not know what a basti is? It’s the first step of any relationship. Maybe he’s been too guarded as a prince?

  Brushing my fingers down his chest, I say, “Perhaps I should show you what a basti is?”

  Before he can answer, I grab his wrists and pull his arms out towards me until they are at my waist and a few inches from my sides.

  My hands shake. “I…I’ve never tried this, so please don’t judge.”

  I place an index finger on each of his shoulders close to the base of his neck. He turns to look at my finger on his right shoulder.

  “You’re to be facing me the whole time. The couple is supposed to stare into each other’s eyes, but it seems fool- ish,” I say.

  He stares into my eyes as he shifts his weight from his right foot to the left.

  My fingers follow his shoulders down to his arms. I move slowly, my fingers drawing straight lines. Glancing between my fingers and his gaze, I touch the tender part of his arms.

  Alexa Mackintosh

  I’m not sure how to read his expression. His mouth is slightly parted and his cheeks gleam with a light blush.

  I’ve never seen him blush.

  When I finish a minute later, I look to him, my entire body shaking.

  He takes my trembling hands in his. “That was sur- prising.”

  “A good surprising?”

  He nods. “And what about the kiss? Besides the misun- derstanding?”

  I smile slyly. “I think it was quite good.” “Only quite?”

  My skin is on fire, and I feel stronger than ever.

  My fingers curl around a button on his waistcoat, and I tug him towards me. I rest a hand on the back of his neck and dig my fingers into his hair.

  We kiss again, neither of us as sheepish this time.

  Eventually, I back away and take a seat on a stool. I’m too shaky to trust my legs.

  Dmitri watches me. He’s sweaty and flustered and handsome.

  “What can we do, Dmitri? Everyone will be furious.” I press a hand to my forehead.

  He takes a seat across from me. “We will do whatever must be done.”

  I want to be with Dmitri, but sacrifice everything to love each other openly? That is a steep price.

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  He wraps my hand in his. “Remember the opera we went to see?”

  “It’s similar to our story.”

  “Except perhaps we can have a cheerier ending.”

  “I thought Romeo and Juliet should have willingly given up on their love if they knew it would hurt their families.”

  He hesitates. “What if they were supposed to be to- gether and knew it? Would you be so skeptical?”

  “How could they know?”

  “Maybe they had a feeling. The same feeling I have about us. I know it sounds foolish, but I believe we are meant to be together,” he says.

  “Feelings fade.” I sound harsh, but he must understand the consequences. “I care for you, but understand that we will likely die if anyone learns of us.”

  “My parents won’t kill us.”

  I shift in my seat. “There are others that will.”

  I’m grateful he doesn’t ask who. I do not trust him enough to reveal my rebel dealings. What if the kiss was an act to get information?

  He was too uneasy and genuine. It couldn’t have been an act.

  “Please trust me. I don’t want to hurt you or see you hurt. If you don’t want to chance the consequences, then tell me, and I will press you no more. I’ll let you marry Ivan and
will not say another word about how I feel,” he says.

  Alexa Mackintosh

  “I don’t love Ivan and never will, but we must be care- ful.”

  “Of course, and we will be. We have Romeo and Juliet’s story to learn from,” he teases.

  “Reassuring,” I mutter.

  Of all the things to give my mission up for, I never thought love would be it. I feel like a silly child. Should I willingly give up on so much? And what about the planet’s future? The Mersiovskys must fall.

  But what if I leave one prince alive? I can tell Angelica to kill the rest. Harsh perhaps, but the best possibility. It will hurt Dmitri though as I doubt he wants his family murdered. Even if that succeeds, Dmitri will have to give up the palace. Though he doesn’t reveal the traits of a Mersiovskys, I guess he will hold on to power with his dy- ing breath. He won’t step down.

  “We need to talk about the kiss Angelica gave you as well.”

  He groans. “I don’t know what that was about.” “I know. Or at least, I guessed so.”

  “She flirted with me.”

  “I know. I’m making sure you’re ok. She is my friend, and I feel a responsibility for what she does while she stays in the palace.”

  He nods.

  The oven dings and the pastry is ready. I cut two pieces, and we talk a little, Dmitri changing the conversa- tion to something light-hearted and trivial. Soon, it will

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  be daylight, and the cooks will come down to start break- fast for the Royal family. My kitchen juts off from the main kitchens, but the cooks will still hear us in here and become suspicious.

  I take a bite of the steaming pastry and let it set on my tongue. The taste is sweeter than I imagined, but it melts perfectly in the mouth.