Four of the men stepped forward as Max and I approached, aware of my presence at once. And all four of them dropped low before me.
“Niko Bartolo,” Max said, his voice slipping into a cadence far more formal than his usual bantering tone. “I give you Charlaina di Heyse. Queen of Ludania.”
The fifth man, standing just behind the others, eased forward then, bending as if to follow the lead of his men at the very moment his eyes lifted to mine. Eyes so amber they were very nearly molten. Eyes that both unsettled and comforted me, and found their way straight to my core, piercing me like a steel-tipped arrow. I stood frozen on wobbly legs, mutely acknowledging that he was the reason my skin itched. He was the cause of the ache in my gut. This perfect stranger who now held my gaze.
My grip on Max’s arm tightened, and I immediately hoped he hadn’t noticed, although I was certain he must have. Yet if this ambassador—this Niko Bartolo—felt even a fraction of what I was feeling, he gave no indication. He dropped into a flawlessly executed bow just as his men had done, until I found myself staring—wordlessly—at the golden halo of his hair.
Inside, my stomach twisted.
Or was it something else that roiled, straining to be noticed?
Max tugged at my arm, reminding me that five men were at my feet, waiting for permission to rise.
“It—it’s a pleasure.” My voice barely registered, but it was all I could manage.
Niko stood once more, doing everything the way he should. It was I who was faltering. I who struggled to understand my uncertain reaction.
He held out his hand to me and I stared at it, my mind struggling to unravel each simple action. Beside me, I felt Max nudge me, slight but perceptible. Just enough to get me moving again.
It was strange to watch my hand settle into this stranger’s, almost as if it were someone else’s hand I watched. Niko lifted my fingers to his lips, kissing the back of them reverently. “Your Majesty,” he intoned, his voice perfectly calm. Perfectly innocent. And then he lowered his voice, and made a sound, an almost indistinguishable gravelly noise that came up from the back of his throat.
Except that it wasn’t just a noise. It was a word, spoken in a foreign tongue, one I’d never heard before. Yet I understood its meaning.
“You,” he’d said.
I jerked back and watched him through wide eyes, trying to tamp down my curiosity but failing miserably. The longer I stood beside him, the more conflicted I felt. The more intrigued as well.
You? Was that really what he’d said? What could he have meant by that?
I pulled my hand away, suddenly anxious to have it back. Away from his grip.
Xander interrupted then, making an exuberant entrance as he and Aron came tumbling through the open doors, wrestling and shoving each other. They seemed not to notice it wasn’t just the two of them in the enormous dining hall.
“Get off me, you wag!” Aron grunted as Xander caught him in a headlock and pulled him all the way down so he was very nearly kissing the floor.
Officially, Aron held no title or official role in my administration, but he was invaluable to me all the same. Maybe what I’d really needed was another friendly face around as I adjusted to my new position.
It was Xander, however, who’d taken Aron under his wing, making it his task to teach Aron the finer points of combat and weaponry.
And horseplay, it seemed.
Beside me, Max’s breathy chuckle drew my attention away from the golden-eyed ambassador. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine Max jumping into the rambunctious fray of flying elbows and knees.
“Admit that I won,” Xander insisted, laughter clear in his voice. “Tell me I’m a superior marksman.”
Neither boy was even aware of the audience they’d drawn. At least until Angelina giggled from her seat at the table.
Simultaneously, I watched both of their heads snap up. And almost equally synchronized, each of them jerked to attention as Xander released Aron from his grip.
Xander, as usual, was the first to recover, standing tall and handsome and looking unruffled, as if they’d just strolled in casually to join our assemblage. As if they hadn’t forgotten it was dinnertime altogether.
Aron’s eyes, however, were still sparkling with recalcitrance, his gaze directed solely at Xander. “It was his fault,” he muttered, shoving Xander with his shoulder in a last-ditch effort to win whatever quarrel they’d been having.
Xander ignored the dig from Aron as he dropped his head and uttered, “Your Majesty.”
I forced a glare for them both, warning them each in turn to behave . . . and knowing that neither would listen unless he chose to. Then I allowed Max to show me to my place at the table.
As I did, I passed Angelina, who looked tired, bruised circles outlining the nearly translucent skin beneath her eyes. Guilt coursed through me.
Guilt and that other thing. That sensation I had yet to identify.
It took a moment for her to meet my gaze fully, for her eyes to stop fluttering nervously away from mine. But when she did, when I had her attention at last, my face fell into a remorseful frown.
I’m sorry, I mouthed. I desperately hoped she understood me.
It took a moment, but the sliver of a smile that dusted her lips made my heart flutter.
Of course she’d understood me. Angelina always understood me.
Xander and Max were already waiting for me in the library after dinner. I’d gone up to Angelina’s bedchamber with my mother to put my little sister to bed, where I’d whispered silent assurances to Angelina that I wouldn’t be waking her again. I couldn’t bear to see the dark smudges of strain on my sister’s face.
But it was more than just that. I needed to get away from Niko Bartolo too, from the strange buzzing I felt whenever I’d looked his way. The strange tingling, just beneath the surface of my skin, whenever my mind wandered to thoughts of touching him.
I was glad he’d be leaving in the morning. Glad I wouldn’t have to see him again until the summit.
Assuming I could convince Max the invitation was a good idea.
“It’s a great opportunity,” Xander said, looking up as Zafir and I entered the room. Then he turned pointedly back to Max, “For her and for Ludania.”
“I disagree,” Max said through gritted teeth. “She’s not ready. She’s only just begun learning what her role entails within the boundaries of Ludania. Sending her to the summit now would be like setting her loose in a den of lions. They’d eat her alive.”
I wandered to the sofa and, instead of sitting down, leaned against the arm. “She is right here,” I reminded them, crossing my arms. “Besides, Xander’s right, this could be the opportunity we need, Max. My chance to appeal to the other queens, to reestablish the trade Sabara had abolished. We could use their assistance. Ludania needs access to new technologies and medicines. We need access to energy sources. Maybe I can reestablish fuel trade, or bargain for electric power. I don’t want to miss this opportunity.”
“You don’t understand, Charlie,” Max said, dropping onto the sofa beside where I was perched. He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “It’s not just about duty. You’re talking about trying to go toe to toe with women who were born into their positions, bred to wear their crowns. These women were groomed as queens. They live and breathe the rules of decorum. They were raised learning the etiquette and protocols of each and every queendom they might ever come into contact with.”
“I have to agree. You’d have a lot to learn if you were to go,” Xander interjected, with a laugh. “And we all know how much you love your lessons.” He winked at me, and I wondered if Baxter had told him how difficult I’d been that day.
I wondered too what he’d say if I told him it was Sabara’s fault.
Inwardly I sagged, but I couldn’t give up that easily. If what Niko Bartolo had said was true, then Sabara had been turning down invitations from the other queens to attend the summit for more than a century . . . since long
before she’d inhabited her last body.
I envisioned Sabara’s reluctance to attend, confused by her reluctance to see her country progress and evolve. That would have meant that she’d have had to evolve too, to acquiesce to the fact that there are better ways than the old ones, I supposed. Something Sabara still refused to do.
I couldn’t let my people be left behind simply because I was afraid to face the challenge ahead. “But they’re still people,” I argued. “Surely they’ll understand our plight. Surely they’ll understand that I can’t know the things that they do, that my situation is . . .” I searched for the right word, but there was only one. “Unique.”
Max reached for me then, no longer caring about convention and rules now that we were alone—just he and Xander and Zafir and I. He pulled me onto his lap and let his lips rest against the top of my head. “Ludania is only just getting to know you, Charlie. Are you sure you should be leaving so soon? After everything you’ve worked so hard on? One class? One language?” His mouth moved down, brushing my cheek now and I no longer cared that every eye must surely be upon us. His lips were soft and enticing and begged for me to pay attention to them. “Do you really want to leave now?”
Zafir, still standing near the door, cleared his throat, reminding me that Max and I weren’t alone. I jerked back, bumping into the sofa arm behind me, and Xander laughed. “You know your duty ends at guarding her, don’t you, Zafir? You act more and more like her father every day.”
“There’s nothing wrong with decorum,” Zafir responded, unruffled by Xander’s ribbing.
I glanced sheepishly at Zafir. He was right, of course, I hadn’t meant to get distracted. There were more important matters than Max’s lips. “Who would rule in my absence?” I asked them, not really sure of the protocol.
Xander answered first. “Someone will have to stay, and since Max knows the realm better than anyone else, he’s the obvious choice. Of course”—his silver eyes flashed, glinting wickedly—“I’m happy to stay in his place. I’ve always wanted to sit on the throne.”
My stomach felt as if it were filled with rocks. . . . a million sharp, pointy-edged rocks. “He could,” I suggested hopefully to Max. “Stay here, I mean. You could tell him everything he needs to know before we leave. He knows the palace, and since at least a third of the forces come from the men he brought with him, they’ll listen to him if the need arises. Plus, he understands the importance of maintaining peace.” I squeezed Max’s fingers in mine, trying to convey my desire for him to agree. And then I asked the question I was afraid to ask, even after the past months. “You trust him, don’t you?”
For years Max and Xander had been at odds. They’d been estranged, each serving on a different side of the conflict. When Xander had turned his back on his grandmother, taking up arms against her, he’d deserted a much younger Max, leaving him under the palace roof with a woman who’d despised him. By the time he’d come of age, Max had rebuffed his royal upbringing in an entirely different way: by joining the military. It was something no royal had done in decades, possibly centuries. He was a disgrace in his grandmother’s eyes.
But, ultimately, being on opposite sides of a revolution had been what put Max and Xander in front of each other again. It was when they found me that they’d been forced, for the first time in years, to communicate. To cooperate.
And now, just months later, here they were, living under the same roof once more. Living in their boyhood home, and forging a new future for the country they both loved.
But did either of them trust the other?
Max’s gaze met Xander’s with more certainty than I’d expected, although his voice didn’t sound quite as sure. “Of course I do,” he said. And then, he added, “He’s my brother.”
Neither of them was as certain as they should have been. It was clear that they were both still deciding what, exactly, their relationship was, and would be. They were brothers, certainly, but that didn’t guarantee love. It wasn’t the promise of a bond.
I knew because I’d seen too many family members forsake their own. I thought of Aron and Brook, both of whom were nothing more than chattel to their fathers.
I was glad to see Xander and Max work toward repairing those frayed family ties, even if it made them both squirm to do so. I had never promised them comfort if I sat upon the throne.
I was never promised comfort either.
“Tell Niko Bartolo I’ll be attending the summit,” I told Xander at last.
Summer had given way to the harvest season, but the nighttime temperatures rarely dipped lower than the daytime ones. It was unseasonably warm for this time of year, but neither Max nor I complained as we lay stretched out on our backs, staring up at the spectral clouds—apparitions suspended in the black sky above us, allowing the moon only the briefest glimpses of the earth below.
Even though the light from my skin was fading, my encounter with Angelina the night before made me the brightest thing out here.
But at least in the gardens I could hide myself. The space within the hedged walls was quite possibly the most peaceful place in the world, and the two of us found ourselves existing among the shrubbery and flowers and fountains and pathways more often than not, whispering secrets of what was and what would be, and of all the things we wished for. Yet more and more often, I found my mind wandering to other things, even when—like now—I watched Max’s lips moving.
Things like Sabara, and what she wanted from me.
Max stopped talking and shifted onto his side, propping up on one elbow as he stared down at me. His eyes were nearly as dark as the midnight sky and just as cloudy. “Did you hear anything I just said, Charlie?”
I turned my attention to him, shaking away thoughts of the dead queen as I rolled in the soft grass beneath us and leaned up so we were eye to eye. My mouth curved devilishly, yet I shrugged as guilelessly as I could manage. I knew exactly what I was doing. “No, but I’m sure it was eloquent and well thought-out. Bordering on brilliant, I’d wager.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up, ever so slightly. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to repeat myself, would it?”
“Probably not.” I looked away from him, staring up at the sky once more. The clouds had shifted, parting to create a vaporous tunnel through which the full moon shone, throwing dazzling threads of light along the clouds’ edges.
“You can’t avoid the topic forever, Charlie. You’ll tire before I do,” he argued. A point he’d tried to make a thousand times before. One I had no problem rebuking.
“Of course I can. I’ll just keep pretending I didn’t hear you.”
Silver splinters flickered in Max’s charcoal eyes, similar to the silver of his brother’s eyes. His hand shot out to brace the back of my neck and his teeth flashed white in the pale light of the moon as he leaned closer. I could feel his breath before I realized his lips were brushing mine. Not kissing, just feathering over them. Reminding my body—and everyone with eyes—what Max was capable of doing to me.
Beneath my skin, light exploded. Tiny bursts that fragmented the darkness around us, igniting like lightning storms. Inside, the same things were happening to me, only no one could see those detonations, the ones that curled my toes and made my breath catch in the back of my throat.
“Eventually you’ll hear me,” Max whispered against my mouth, in answer to my intentional snub. “And eventually you’ll agree to be my wife.”
My voice hitched against the obstruction in my throat as tiny fireflies of light danced over my skin. “Don’t fool yourself. . . . Eventually you will agree to be my king. But,” I persisted, “only when I’m ready. And not a moment sooner.” No longer able to resist the enticement, I pressed my lips all the way against his with a frustrated sigh.
Max smiled as he kissed me, and I knew he felt he’d won a minor victory.
Even though he’d never actually said the words, I knew he loved me. He’d proven himself time and time again: putting himself in harm’s way, chall
enging his grandmother on my behalf, showing his willingness to sacrifice himself, and pledging to keep me safe. But that didn’t mean we were ready to be married. I might be capable of ruling a country—or maybe I wasn’t, and Ludania would suffer simply because of the fact that I was born with royal blood in my veins—but I certainly wasn’t ready to be anyone’s wife. I wasn’t ready to claim a husband to rule by my side, even one that I could easily imagine spending the rest of my life with.
This wasn’t a decision to be made lightly, and queen or not, I wasn’t even of age yet. I hadn’t even finished school, something no one but me seemed concerned about.
Max knew my reasons, and I was sure he understood them. But it didn’t stop him from reminding me time and time again that he planned to outlast my obstinate rebuffs. That he would one day be my husband.
Although as far as I was concerned, he already belonged to me.
I pushed him down so I was leaning over him as he lay on his back once more. When my lips finally left his, they were tingling, stung by the currents that crossed between us. The curtain of my silver-blond hair fell over his much shorter, much darker hair as I cocked my head to the side and studied him. He was far more handsome than any man I’d ever dreamed of kissing as a girl, and more honorable than anyone I’d ever known, save my father. And when he looked at me the way he did now, I could almost believe I was as beautiful as he assured me I was—again and again. Something that seemed impossible when I didn’t see myself through his eyes.
“Are you sure I can do this?” I asked, when I trusted my voice not to falter.
His lazy smile grew. “Kiss? I’m certain of it. In fact, you’re rather skilled. Should I be worried about your mastery?”
I shoved him, and then I toppled forward, collapsing onto him so I could feel his heart beating beneath my cheek. “You know what I mean. The summit. Are you sure the other rulers will take me seriously? That I won’t make a fool of myself?”
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