by Bec McMaster
“What was that?” she demanded.
Malloryn strode toward the window as a hawk-like shape circled past. “It appears to be some kind of gyrfalcon.”
“A gyrfalcon?” Circling Kensington Palace?
He leaned out and closed the windows, then turned back to her. “I’m going to take the brooch down to Ava and see what she thinks. I’ll send Gemma and Dmitri in to sit with you.”
“You’re starting to make me nervous, Malloryn.”
“I’m just being careful.”
Over his shoulder, a shadow began to grow larger through the glass. “Malloryn,” she said, her gaze locking on the blur of movement.
He spun around.
Glass shattered as the gyrfalcon drove through it. Alexandra screamed and thrust a hand up to protect herself, but the creature swept past her. Bronze wings flashed in the light, and she caught a glimpse of clockwork cogs whirring. Not a bird. A device.
With a high-pitched scream, the mechanical bird swooped directly toward Malloryn. He threw the scarab across the room, and the hawk immediately tried to bank, its head turning to track the scarab. It slammed into the wall behind Malloryn and exploded.
Alexandra threw up both arms.
A weight drove into her midriff—Malloryn, she thought—and she slammed into the floor as rubble pelted the pair of them. Heat rolled over her, the wind of its passage whipping her hair free from its neat chignon.
And then the warmth and sound died down, leaving her panting on the floor, listening to the crackle of fire.
“Are you all right?” Malloryn demanded, hauling her to her feet. Flames licked up the far wall, and half her books were on fire.
“My library,” she whispered.
Another bird screeched in the distance.
Both of them looked to the row of windows.
“There’s another one,” he said breathlessly, yanking her toward the door.
Only there was no door. No door, no wall, no means to cross the gaping crevice in the floor. They were both trapped in the half of the room that lay untouched, and she turned her head slowly, finding the little scarab brooch fluttering its way across the floor behind her.
Malloryn’s heel came down upon it with a crunch. “It’s a tracking beacon.”
Another piercing cry echoed through the windows.
“Come on!” he shouted, hauling her toward the enormous chasm in the floor.
“Malloryn!” she screamed.
Sweeping her up in his arms, he sprinted toward the gap and launched the pair of them over it. Guards ran toward them, and she saw a flash of startled faces before Malloryn landed with a jarring thud.
Alexandra spilled from his arms as they tumbled head over heel across the Aubusson carpets. Behind them, another loud, roaring explosion shook the building. The chandelier above her shivered, and several paintings fell from the walls as one of the guards slid to her side and threw himself over her.
“Your Majesty!”
“What happened?”
And Malloryn: “Secure the building. They’re flying explosive devices. I believe I’ve destroyed the beacon summoning them, but we cannot be sure. Shoot down anything that flies toward the palace.”
She turned to stare toward her favorite room. Flames licked up the doorframe, though half the wall was rubble. The rest of the room was gone. Simply gone.
“Are you all right?” asked the man who’d been shielding her.
She looked up into pale blue eyes. It was one of Malloryn’s men. Byrnes, she thought. “I think so.”
The words sounded distant.
“Take the queen to her chambers and set a rotating guard on the door.” Malloryn pushed to his feet, his face stained with soot. “I think I’m going to want to have a word with Prince Ivan.”
Chapter 10
Malloryn found the prince playing some form of backgammon in a parlor with several of his compatriots, though the rules seemed a trifle different.
“Your Highness,” he greeted, with a faint tilt of the head. “May I have a word.”
“You may have several, as I know you like to talk, Malloryn,” Ivan announced, which earned a laugh from his friends. Though they’d talked but rarely, he swiftly realized Ivan saw him as some sort of threat.
“Alone.”
The prince’s smile vanished, and he flicked his fingers. The trio of his comrades disappeared, and the prince gestured to the chair opposite him.
“Care for a game?” Ivan asked.
“It seems familiar.”
“Nardy,” the prince replied with a shrug. He swiftly explained the rules, then dumped the dice in Malloryn’s hand. “What do you wish to speak about?”
“Where were you an hour ago?” Malloryn rolled the die.
The prince lifted a cup of some foul-smelling spirits to his mouth. “I do not have to answer that.”
“You don’t.” Malloryn considered his first move. “But you should. Someone tried to kill the queen earlier. I’m interested in your whereabouts.”
“I was attending the Grand Duchess Xenia Nikolaevna in her personal suite.” Prince Ivan’s eyes glittered dangerously. “And be very careful what you’re accusing me of. I may be your ruling prince one day.”
Doubtful.
Especially if such attendance upon the duchess meant what Malloryn thought it meant.
“I’m accusing you of nothing.” He tossed the dice and made a move. “I’m merely curious. Especially considering the brooch that you gave the queen was a tracking beacon for the devices used to target her.”
Ivan choked on his mouthful. “What?”
Interesting.
He didn’t seem to be overly concerned with an assassination attempt upon the queen, but the idea of having his name cast in the mud did bother him.
“Someone tried to kill her, and the only clue I have is the gift you gave her.” Though he’d never expected Ivan to be behind this—only a fool would link himself so blatantly to a crime—it never hurt to make a suspect think they could be found guilty.
“I had nothing to do with that brooch! An Englishwoman suggested it to me! She said there was a jeweler in the city who created such devices and the queen would like it, for her friend has one. She said if I wished to give queen a gift beyond repair, then I should buy from him!”
A gift beyond compare?
Malloryn stilled. “Someone suggested you give the queen the brooch? Who?”
Ivan shot him a bewildered look. “She was one of the court ladies. A blonde with big—” He made a cupping gesture with his hands in front of his chest. “I do not remember her name. They all sound strange to me. And they all look the same. You breed pale, insipid women in this country.”
“Who was the jeweler?”
“I don’t know. In the city. My friend, Danil, he takes me there. He may remember the address. I gave it little thought. It was small and dirty. Not the sort of place I expected to find something for a queen, but the brooch, the brooch was magnificent, yes?”
It certainly was.
Malloryn pushed to his feet. “Which one is Danil?”
The urge to send for wine—or worse—gnawed at Alexandra as she made her way through the day.
One more day, she whispered to herself. One more day without milk of poppy or wine. You are strong enough. You do not need it.
The same cursed mantra she repeated to herself daily.
Speaking of Edward with Mina this morning had felt both somehow cathartic and also left a hollow, gaping wound within her.
But there was never a day she forgot him. Never a moment where she wouldn’t see something and think, “oh, he would have loved those little toy soldiers” or “he would have been terribly bored at this banquet.”
He filled her life, even seven years after his loss. And those memories were the brightest weapons against her ongoing fight to restrain herself from succumbing to a fugue. She lost those thoughts, those memories, when she was dull with poppy. He deserved better than a mother who f
loated through her life without emotion.
It didn’t make it any easier.
She sat through several meetings and endured a formal dinner with the council as they made plans to deal with the Scandinavian summit that was due to occur in May.
“You’ve been quiet,” Gideon murmured as he lounged in the chair at her side. “You’ve recovered from yesterday’s ordeal?”
“Too much on my mind. The past. The future.” She sighed. “Mechanical birds plummeting out of the sky toward me.”
“My queen worries too much.”
“Don’t we all?” She tried to make light of it.
He surveyed the council. “Perhaps, for once, we should enjoy what we have? One night where duty and obligation does not weigh heavily upon us. I am sure your subjects would not begrudge you one night.”
“It is not my subjects who would begrudge it.”
He met her gaze. “You hold yourself to high standards, I know. But you should be a little kinder upon yourself.”
Alexandra sighed. “How many of my people suffered whilst I was forced to play my role beneath the prince consort’s nose? How many of my people died because I dared not defy him too often?”
“Were you in control of the empire at that time?”
She scowled. “I was queen.”
Gideon shook his head. “You were upon the throne, surrounded by an entire court of bloodthirsty predators. Your husband brooked little refusal to go along with his whims. I saw the way you would look at him when you dared to defy him. I saw your tremble, even as you held your head high and refused to look away. And I knew that defiance would cost you. We all knew it. Do you think I do not judge myself culpable for not doing something more to prevent such cruelties?”
“He would have killed you had you spoken out,” she pointed out.
“I know. But perhaps one voice rising in defiance would have allowed others the same bravery.” Gideon stared into the distance. “I often wonder if my silence cost you and the realm far more than I can ever know. And I will never allow my silence to fail you ever again.”
“Your silence allows us to sit here now, tonight, knowing that he is dead and buried and we can now give our people the safety and freedom they are owed.”
Gideon smiled, “And does my queen argue so vociferously against her own doubts?”
No, she did not. But she’d felt every death during those years as if she’d ordered it herself. “I don’t know why I argue with you. You always have a way of making me want to agree with you.”
“Then don’t argue with me,” he pointed out, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Just agree. You should be kinder to yourself, my queen. I know you wish to destroy every draconian law your husband ever created, but it will not happen today. Or tomorrow. Or even within the year. Inch by inch, we take this country back to the promise it once had.”
“We?” she asked, a little flirtatiously.
Gideon’s lashes obscured his eyes. “We. For the council stands at your side, prepared to do your every bidding.”
Alexandra smuggled a secret little smile. For she understood he wasn’t speaking of the council at all. “Perhaps you are right then. Perhaps I should allow myself this one night of freedom. What would you suggest?”
“Chess,” he said immediately. “I may even allow you to win.”
“Allow?” How dared he?
Gideon laughed under his breath. “I’m going to pay for that, am I not?”
“I will destroy you,” she vowed.
“Sir Gideon?” Alexandra called. “A word with you, if I may?”
Gideon’s gaze slowly lifted to hers, as the rest of the council filed out through the door. He’d been half-turned to follow the others, but paused at her imperious words.
She glanced at the others, but Malloryn was deep in conversation with Barrons and didn’t pause. A little thrill ran through her at the thought of concocting a seduction beneath his very nose. Everyone knew she and Sir Gideon were friends—they often played chess together—but hopefully nobody suspected there was more between them.
“As you wish,” he said with a polite bow of the head, and made his goodbyes to the rest of the council.
The door closed, leaving them both alone.
“I have had some thoughts on your proposal,” she said firmly, knowing Malloryn wasn’t out of earshot. “I would like to discuss it in private at some length.”
“Some length?” he mouthed, shaking his head at her.
Alexandra dragged her fingertip across the polished surface of the dining table, smiling a little dangerously. “Indeed. Would you care for that game of chess now, while I gather my thoughts?”
“I could spare you an hour of my time,” he teased. “Does this proposal have anything to do with the Scandinavian summit, or does it refer to another alliance?”
“Oh, Gideon.” She rolled her eyes. “We were discussing the precise treaty I wish to speak of the other day—a meeting of strong-willed forces and a potential alliance between the two. It may take more than an hour.”
“My night is at your disposal, Your Majesty.”
He followed her through the door into the hallway that led to her private chambers. A maid curtsied, then darted into the dining room behind them as Alexandra strode along the carpets.
There was no sign of the council.
The second they were through the door into her drawing room, he captured her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth. “Is this the alliance you were referring to?”
“Perhaps. Though it depends upon whether a satisfactory trade agreement can be reached. What do you have to offer?”
“Pleasure,” he whispered, brushing his lips against the inside of her wrist. “Worship.” His tongue lashed against her pulse. “Absolute adoration.”
Desire surged through her—not simply desire for him physically, but a yearning to break free of the prison she’d somehow placed herself in.
It had been one thing to congratulate herself on how well she’d been managing.
Three years without succumbing.
But three years abstaining did not mean she’d spent those years living.
He’d been right. She was too hard on herself. Ever since the revolution, she’d been forcing herself to live an abstemious life, working from dawn to dusk to try and compensate for the guilt she felt.
But perhaps it was time to remove that heavy weight from her shoulders.
“Kiss me,” she demanded, sliding her hand through his hair and hauling his face down to hers.
Show me what it’s like to live. To feel.
“As my queen commands.”
His breath scoured her lips as he lowered his face. Capturing her face in both hands, he brushed the faintest of kisses across her mouth. Sweet. Sensual. Both a tease and a seduction. The tip of his tongue darted out, brushing against hers, and then she was lost.
“More,” she breathed, curling her fist in his hair and wilting against him.
The kiss deepened.
Unlike their first embrace, Gideon did not take. Nor did he demand. Every stroke of his tongue was an invitation, his hands playing a masterful tune on her body. He brushed his thumbs against her cheeks, her lips, her chin. The trace of his fingertips grazed their way down the column of her throat as if he was slowly learning every inch of her.
It surprised her to learn that such mere touches—feather light and upon her neck, no less—drove a shiver all the way through her.
Alexandra felt soft and heavy, her skin flushing with heat. She wanted to lean into him. All the way in. To rub herself against the soft wool of his coat and perhaps slide her hands beneath it—
And why not?
She grew daring, earning the soft intake of breath from him as she explored. Every inch of him was firm with muscle. She couldn’t help herself. Capturing his mouth, she started tugging at his shirt, wanting to run her nails across his skin, wanting to linger in the heat that welled beneath his flesh.
“Alexa.”
She kissed the protest away. Obliteration. That was all she sought. Let it all sweep away, hazy on the river of desire coursing through her.
“Alexa.” Gideon broke free, thrusting one hand against the door at her back in order to restrain himself. His breathing came hot and heavy, and desire darkened his eyes. “What has brought this on?”
“Perhaps I’m tired of enduring. Perhaps I want to feel.”
He avoided her grasp and captured her hand, nuzzling at her fingers. “Alexa. Alexa. Stop. Slow down.”
She didn’t want to slow. She wanted obliteration.
But he captured her face between his callused palms and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I know you,” he whispered. “Something else is driving this.”
She pushed away from him, pacing the room in a swirl of skirts. “Must it be anything more than lust?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Alexandra’s fingers curled into a fist. “I don’t want to talk. I want to kiss you. I want you to kiss me.”
“My queen does not always get what she desires.”
Sometimes she wanted to scream. “Clearly.” Pacing across the rug, she rubbed both hands down the silk of her skirts. “What do you suggest instead?”
“Talk to me,” he insisted, crossing to the shelves and reaching for the chess set they often played with. “And then we shall negotiate terms on how far the night will go.”
How far…?
Alexandra paused. She wanted to burst with frustration. “You are the most vexing man,” she sputtered.
Gideon cocked his head. “I am a patient man. Not a vexing one. And you are not ready for more between us. Not like this. I want you, Alexandra. And I will have you. But I know your moods, and I will not be mere distraction for whatever is plaguing you. If you do not wish to discuss it, then there are other means to pass the time. Black or white?”
“White, curse you.”
She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that perhaps he was right.
“As you wish.”