I fume as I walk back to my rooms.
Not beautiful enough to tempt him, am I? We’ll see about that. I’m going to make him fall so in love with me, he’ll forget he ever saw another woman. He will be begging for me by the time I’m done with him.
And then he’ll beg for his life right before I end him.
That sweet thought sustains me as I reach my rooms and tread toward my bed.
The king was not wrong. A large pile of letters rests on the table in my room, but I don’t get to open them right away.
There’s a man next to my bed. I half hoped it would be handsome Leandros, just so I could have a story to tell the king about chasing men away from my room. But alas.
It’s Myron.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demand. “How did you even get in here?”
He’s so tall his head is only a foot away from the ceiling. Impeccably dressed in black pants and a plum-colored coat, he turns at the sound of my voice.
“Alessandra, fancy seeing you here.” “It’s my room!”
“Yes, and your maid was all too happy to let me in. All I had to do was smile and make up some story about leaving a trinket for you to find on your vanity. Apparently, she’s a romantic.”
I grimace. “For your sake, you’d better hope she doesn’t talk.” “Why? Would it be so terrible for people to know I’d left you
something?”
I stare at him, trying to make sense of why he could possibly be here, when he kicks off his shoes and reclines on my bed.
“Come here,” he purrs.
“Get out,” I say, my voice turning abrupt and sharp.
“Just because you didn’t want my ring, it doesn’t mean you don’t want this. I know you.”
“Since you’ve failed to notice, allow me to spell things out for you. I don’t want you. The king is courting me now. The king, Myron. Why would I want the second son of a viscount, when I can have the Shadow King?”
Myron rises so quickly, the bed creaks. “He won’t have you. You’re not a virgin. Not after I was done with you.”
I sigh. “Myron, just because you were a virgin when we met, it doesn’t mean I was.”
His mouth drops open.
“What did you say to Lord Vasco and the council?” I demand. “They said they spoke with you.”
“I wasn’t your first?”
I tug off my gloves and toss them aside, then do the same with my slippers. “Here’s how this works. You don’t say anything about knowing me ever again. You came to my father’s estate a couple of times with your father on business. Nothing more. You saw me in passing. That is all.”
“I didn’t see you in passing. I saw you naked. More than once,” he says threateningly. “I bet the council and your beloved Shadow King would love to hear that.”
I toss my eyes heavenward. “That’s not how this game is played. Have you forgotten, Myron? I know what you did. Your father gave you one of his most prized possessions. To you, his stupid second-born son. And you gambled it away. And if he found out? I’m betting a disinheritance is in your future.”
Myron’s jaw clenches.
“Why do you think I don’t have a reputation, Myron? It’s because I know how to play this game. Now leave, and don’t ever speak to me again.”
He grabs his shoes on the way out, slamming the door loudly enough for my neighbors to hear. As long as no one is out in the corridor, hopefully no one can guess which room he came from.
 |
WITH MORNING COMES A fresh set of ideas for scheming. I’m getting my king, and I’m ridding the palace of anyone who gets in my way.
After breakfast, I tend to the pile of letters, rating them by importance. Invitations from duchesses and marchionesses go in one pile. Countesses and viscountesses in another pile. And those from baronesses I don’t bother to open. I use my morning to make replies, accepting invitations and declining others. I write up a schedule for myself, so I can keep track of all my appointments, and then I send a letter to Eudora. I will need more evening attire. It won’t do to be seen in the same dress twice.
Two hours later, and I call a maid to help me get ready. Naturally I had to fire my first maid, but the new one knows all kinds of fun coiffures. She piles my hair onto my head, placing every strand with an individual amethyst-studded pin. A gift from a previous lover, of course. My face is painted to perfection. I pull on lavender pants with a complicated bead design running down the front of each leg. The violet brocade overskirt is simply divine, with long sleeves and a floor-length hemline. I slip into black boots with a small heel, pull on black wrist- length gloves, and then head down for lunch.
Not so beautiful as to tempt me.
I huff as I remember those hateful words.
I appear to be one of the first to arrive in the great hall. Small groups of courtiers chat animatedly with one another. When I step into the room, a few heads turn, voices quiet to gossiping tones, and ladies pull out their fans.
And then a man approaches me.
“Lady Stathos! I’d hoped I’d get a chance to speak with you again.”
Blond. Handsome. Perhaps a decade older than I. Where have I seen him before?
“Orrin, Lord Eliades,” he says.
I still must give him a peculiar look because he adds, “Your father introduced us at the ball!”
Ah, that does the trick. He was the only person I met aside from the king. He kept bringing up Chrysantha and trying to compare me to her.
I do not like this man.
“I simply adored your sister while she stayed at the palace,” he says before I’ve even offered a reply, “and I know you are just as wonderful! Since we had such a connection at the king’s ball the other night, I hoped you might like to attend the countess’s upcoming charity ball with me. I’m sure you’ve received the invitation. Alekto is a friend, and I adore functions that raise money for the less fortunate. I simply have so much money to spend!” He laughs as though he’s told some joke before
continuing. “I once bought a blanket for every child in the Naxosian Orphanage. Do you know how many blankets that is? Two hundred and thirty-seven. Can you believe so many poor souls are—”
“Excuse me,” I say. Leandros has entered the room, and since he doesn’t consider me a consolation prize after failing to wed my sister, I turn my back on Orrin without the slightest bit of guilt.
In fact, I have to physically shake off that last conversation. Charity.
Orphans. The devils wasted good looks on such a man. I put on a smile for Leandros and his companions. “Lady Stathos!”
“Leandros.”
He’s quite dashing today, dressed in a teal waistcoat and brown boots. The color really makes his hair shine. He’s flanked by two other men. His friends who fended off the courtiers while we were out in the orchards, I believe.
“Alessandra,” he amends, since I used his given name. “Lovely to see you.”
A not-so-subtle elbow jabs into Leandros’s side, and he remembers that we are not alone. “Right. These are my friends, and they are desperate to make your acquaintance. Meet Petros.” He points to a tall fellow with a generous helping of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Somehow, the imperfections only make him more handsome. “And Rhouben.” Rhouben wears the boldest and most vibrant clothing I’ve ever seen. He mixes bright blues and greens together in such a daring way, looking as fine as any peacock. I think he might do it to make up for the plainness of his features.
“Gentlemen,” I say.
Each takes my hand in turn and offers a kiss atop my glove.
“At last,” Rhouben says, when he drops my hand. “I’ve been dying to meet the only person at court who dresses better than I do.”
“I would argue,” I say, “but I would only do it to be polite.”
He laughs. “And honest on top of it all. You are a rare treasure.” “Careful now,” Petros says. “You’re an engaged man, Rhouben.
Hands off.”
“Congratulations,” I offer to the first man. “Who is the lucky lady?” Rhouben grimaces. “Melita Xenakis.”
“I haven’t met her yet. Is she here?”
Petros looks over his shoulder. “Yes, she’s the one looking distastefully at Rhouben’s coat.”
I find Melita immediately. Perfect blond ringlets rest over her shoulders, covering a blue brocade. In fact, I now note, all the ladies are wearing blue. Which I wore yesterday. I smile in satisfaction. As if sensing my stare, Melita’s gaze catches mine. Her features change into a hideous scowl, as though I committed some crime by looking at her. Or by speaking with her betrothed.
“In that case, you have my condolences,” I say. “She’s awfully protective of you, isn’t she?”
Petros slaps his friend on the back and laughs. “You don’t know the half of it. She’s like a leech, sticking to Rhouben’s arm everywhere he goes. And, oh, you’ll love this! His father didn’t even tell him about the betrothal until it was already done.”
Rhouben groans at the memory.
I struggle not to laugh. “And what of you, Petros? Are you courting anyone?”
“Not anymore,” he says sadly. “I’d had my eye on Estevan Banis, but at the king’s ball, he danced three times in a row with Lord Osias.”
“Men can be so fickle,” I offer. “Indeed.”
“And you, Leandros?” I ask, including him in the conversation.
“I am completely unattached, so you needn’t worry.” He gives me a devilish grin.
“Alas, I am now spoken for,” I say. “The king requested permission to court me just last night!”
Rhouben and Petros offer their congratulations, but Leandros looks appropriately put out. As the conversation continues, I let my eyes catch on the new noblemen entering the great hall. I offer them bright smiles, which is all it takes to get them to come join in on the conversation. Our group of four quickly grows to ten. All the young men are eager to ask me questions: Which functions will I be attending? Is my dance card all full for the next ball? Why haven’t I graced the court with my presence before now?
I haven’t mentioned that the king is courting me since I told Leandros and his friends. The new men don’t need to know, especially since I need them for this little show I’m putting on for the king.
A herald calls something, but it can’t be heard over our chatter in the corner. But out of the corner of my eye, I watch as the Shadow King enters the great hall. In fact, I’ve been waiting for it. Those seated at the table who spot him rise to show respect.
Kallias doesn’t sit right away. He makes those at the table remain standing as his eyes do a sweep around the room. Though I’m not watching him outright, I can feel the moment they land on me. It’s as if a current of heat zaps through the air.
At the next thing Petros says, I laugh a little louder than needed.
See? I want to shout. Most men find me beautiful. Most men find me
irresistible.
“Lady Stathos.” The words aren’t shouted, but they resonate through the room as much as if they had been. The men around me quiet instantly and turn to bow to their sovereign.
“Yes, my king?” I ask.
“Have you already told everyone our news?” “No, sire.”
He holds out an arm in my direction while addressing the room. “I’m courting Lady Stathos.” His gaze flits meaningfully to the next table over, where his councilors are seated.
The men around me suddenly step backward as though caught doing something naughty. All save Leandros, Petros, and Rhouben, who don’t seem to care at all that the king has just publicly claimed me as his.
They were his friends. He cast them aside. Why should they care if they irritate him?
Lord Ikaros Vasco, the head of the council, rises and holds up his glass of wine. “To a happy courtship!”
Those around the room raise their glasses in turn and repeat the words. Vasco keeps his eyes on mine while he sips from his cup.
I’m watching you, that look says.
I offer a sincere smile in response before inclining my head to the room of congratulators.
Then I let my eyes rest back on the king. I cannot tell by his features if he’s reacting at all to seeing me surrounded by men, but perhaps his declaration is reaction enough. He verbally claimed me. Or was that for the benefit of the council alone? It is them, after all, whom he needs to convince of our betrothal.
The king is wearing a violet waistcoat, I realize then. Somehow, we’ve managed to match our clothing yet again. It’s as if we are trying to look like a united front.
As if I were always meant to be his queen.
Kallias lifts a finger and gestures to the seat at his right. A servant leaps from his place at the wall and rushes to pull out the chair. Carefully. Oh so carefully with his proximity to the king.
That’s when I notice that two empty chairs rest to the left and right of the king. No one is permitted to sit within two seats of him.
Except me.
The spot to his immediate right is presented to me, and the hall goes quiet as one after the other, the nobles notice that chair—the one right next to the king—being held open.
I tug at my gloves, making sure they’re secure, before I excuse myself from my circle of admirers and cross the distance to Kallias.
Once I’m seated, I keep my hands in my lap, careful not to bump anything or touch a certain someone. We’re much closer than the law’s five feet, but if Kallias is permitting it, I’m not about to complain. Besides, the most delicious scent of lavender and mint and musk fills my senses at the close proximity. The Shadow King smells delicious.
Kallias brings a mouthful of what looks like some sort of vegetable soup to his lips. “I see you’re making friends. Is acknowledgment everything you hoped it would be?”
“Too soon to tell.”
A servant places a napkin in my lap before resuming his position along the exterior of the room.
“You look exquisite today,” the king says, pitching his voice low. We’re separated enough that I don’t think anyone else at the table can hear.
“You’re trying to make up for what you said yesterday,” I say in an equally reserved tone.
“I’m merely speaking the truth.” Well, it’s a start.
Down the table, I watch pair after pair of eyes pretending not to be watching me. The men wonder what I’ve done to have the king claim me. The women watch my every move, wondering how they could get the king to claim them.
My eyes land on Myron, briefly, who looks away as soon as he realizes he’s been caught staring.
Good boy.
I can’t believe how well the king has already delivered on his promise. Those letters in my room are a result of dancing with me, of speaking to me where we could be seen in the orchards. And after his announcement today? I can’t even imagine what doors he’s opened for me now.
“Do you suppose all the women will be wearing purple tomorrow?” I ask, before turning my attention to my food.
“I suspect they’ll try to pay off your maids to tell them what color you put on in the mornings.”
At that, my eyes narrow. “Is that what you did?” I look meaningfully at his attire that matches my own. “Or did you simply peer through the wall into my bedroom to take a look for yourself?”
Those teeth flash in the widest grin yet. “I promise it’s been years since I peeked in on ladies dressing. I’m not twelve anymore.”
I sample my own dish. It’s just as delicious as last night’s supper. “Were you caught?”
“Oh, yes. When Lady Kalfas spotted me, she ratted me out to my mother, who gave me such a scolding that I was never even tempted to try again.”
“What words could have possibly persuaded you not to try again?” “She told me that if I persisted in looking, it was as far as I would
ever get with the ladies. And she said no one would ever respect me if I didn’t respect them.”
I smile into my bowl. “And was it the idea of never getting respect or never getting to do more than look that did it for you?”
“Both,” he admits. “As well as the idea of ever having to discuss such things with my mother again.”
I laugh gently at that. Though part of me can’t help but wonder if he ever did get to do more than look. Intimate relations would be impossible when the law forbids anyone from touching him, wouldn’t they?
After a break in the conversation, I say, “Your council is watching us closely.”
It’s true, though they’re being more subtle about it than those seated at our own table.
“They’re put out because I forbade them from sitting with me during mealtimes. I have to talk politics all day, but I refuse to have it grace the luncheon table.”
“There are ladies on your council?” I say it like a question. I’d assumed they were part of the council, but I realize now that they could simply be the wives of the men. These are modern times, and ladies have more rights and liberties than ever before. Still, the monarchy tends to be slower to adapt than everyone else.
“Yes, Lady Desma Terzi is the royal treasurer. I’ve never met anyone better with numbers. And then Lady Tasoula Mangas is my liaison with the common folk here in the city. She keeps tabs on the merchants and the economy, apprising me of anything noteworthy.”
“And the other two gentlemen? I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting Vasco.” If I’m to run the kingdom one day, I will need to know the names of all those on the council.
“Lord Vasco can be protective. He was an old friend of my father’s. He’s the most well-connected man in the kingdom. If there’s a problem I need solving, he’s the first to have a solution. Then there’s Kaiser, the general over the men stationed here in the city. And lastly, Ampelios. He … gets things done.”
“Assassin?” I guess immediately.
Kallias takes a sip of his drink. “Among other things.”
We both watch as Ampelios takes a sharp knife to the meat in front of him, slicing the steak into even pieces and stabbing them with the point to place a morsel on his tongue.
“Those are the five individuals you are putting on a show for,” Kallias adds.
“I’ve been told I would have made an excellent actress were it not for my noble birth.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Kallias sweeps his eyes over the guests seated at our table. “I’ve placed at my own table those closer to my age. Not that it matters much with the distance I must maintain from them.”
I want to ask him why he must maintain such a distance. Why does the law prevent people from touching him? Does it have something to do with his shadows? But I do not know the king well enough to ask such questions yet.
