It is the dead of night when we return from the ball and Rhouben and I swap money for letter in my rooms. Petros is with us, insisting he wouldn’t miss out on the fun. And he also proclaims to be an excellent forger.
Rhouben and I look over his shoulder as he finishes the letter.
Dearest Melita,
I have watched you from afar for too long. I can no longer keep my feelings to myself. Your beauty is like the light of the sun. It almost hurts to look at you, and you make it impossible for me to look at anyone else.
Please, I must speak with you alone. Will you
meet me in your rooms at nine o’clock on the evening of the ? Will you greet me with a kiss, so I may know if your feelings for me burn as brightly as mine do for you?
Your humble servant, Orrin Galopas, Earl of Eliades
We compare his writing to the note Orrin sent me. Petros has managed the shape of Orrin’s letters perfectly. No one would know the difference. It’s unlikely that the note will fall into anyone’s hands but
Melita’s, but better safe than sorry. If our plan to save Rhouben from this marriage is to work, it needs to be flawless.
“What now?” Rhouben asks.
“Now all that’s left,” I say, “is to wait for Orrin to arrive back at the palace. When he does, we add the date to the letter, and then I will seal it with Orrin’s crest. Then you must get this letter to Melita without her spotting you delivering it.”
“But how will you get his crest?”
Petros stands from his chair and cracks his back. “He’s in love with her, you dolt. How do you think she’ll gain access to his rooms and get his crest? She’ll play him.”
Rhouben grips me in a hug, smashing me against his bright red-and- yellow-brocade vest. “You really are the best, Alessandra. If this works, I owe you my life.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Petros says.
“Would you want a life with Melita?” Rhouben challenges.
“Fair point. Yes, you owe her your life. And I’ll take the fifty necos you promised for the use of my penmanship.”
“When did I promise you that?”
I leave the two of them to playfully bicker, my skirts heavily ladened with an envelope full of money.
 |
I SPEND MY MORNING away from the palace, running a few necessary errands. I distribute Rhouben’s money carefully, wisely, and when I return to the palace, my smile is full and earnest.
Until I run into Lord Ikaros Vasco on the way back to my rooms. “Ah, Lady Stathos, just who I was looking for.”
“Is everything all right?” I ask.
“Of course. Why shouldn’t everything be all right?”
“Because the head of the king’s council has sought me out. You practically threatened me during our last conversation.”
Vasco tilts his head to the side. “You and I remember that conversation very differently.”
I smile politely, but my teeth grind together behind my lips.
“No, I merely wanted to ask how your courtship with the king is coming along. Kallias is so private. The young king won’t say a word about it.”
“And neither will I.”
Vasco nods to himself, as though expecting this answer. “I wonder if that is perhaps because the courtship isn’t happening at all?”
I blink. “I beg your pardon?”
“He sends you gifts, and you enjoy each other’s company during mealtimes, but what else? To my knowledge, you spend no other time with each other. He does not accompany you to any events. Has he even kissed you yet?”
I round on the man. “That is none of your business. And you know perfectly well just how busy the king is. He doesn’t attend events with me because he’s in meetings with you and the council.”
“To be sure, I know exactly what Kallias spends his time doing. But he has a council to take care of things until he is of age. Now is the perfect opportunity to rely on us to run the kingdom for him while he spends his time with a beautiful young lady such as yourself.”
I can’t think of a single thing to say to the man in return.
“Unless of course the courtship isn’t real. In which case, the council will start arranging for more ladies to meet with the king, and we will have no use for you.”
And with that, Vasco leaves.
|
I HATE NOT HAVING the last word in a conversation. Absolutely loathe it. What’s worse, the council isn’t falling for our ruse. And if there’s no ruse, then Kallias has no need to keep me around. How am I to win him for real, then?
I let myself into my rooms, Vasco’s threats ripe within my mind. “Alessandra.”
I jump a foot into the air. How the blazes do people keep getting into my rooms?
“Father.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I thought perhaps my letters to you were going astray, but it would appear you are receiving your mail just fine.” His eyes point toward the mountain of invitations I’ve already opened and read. Among them is Orrin’s love letter. Rhouben returned it to me, having no use for it after Petros made his forgery. I frown at it distastefully.
“I was getting around to writing you.”
“Undoubtedly,” he says with sarcasm. “You’ve gotten caught up in the palace. In the finery. In the attention. You’ve forgotten your entire purpose for being here.”
A headache pounds at my temples, and red tinges the corners of my vision. “I’ve been focusing on winning the king’s favor, which is why I haven’t had time to write you. Things are progressing perfectly. If there were something to tell you, I’d tell you.”
He paces back and forth in front of my wardrobe. “Perfectly, is it? Then perhaps you can tell me why word has reached me that the king never accompanies you to events outside the palace? In fact, I hear you’re in the company of that Calligaris boy constantly.”
I can’t focus on Father as my eye begins to twitch. “I assure you I have everything under control. There’s no need to fret. I have the king right where I want him. And Myron will no longer be an issue. In fact, once I have a chat with him, he’ll be leaving the palace. Permanently.”
Father’s face changes. At first, I cannot read it. Then it dawns on me with horror. Pity.
“Alessandra, darling, you tried your best. There comes a time when we must admit we’ve been defeated. You had a good run at the palace, but the king clearly doesn’t want you. But don’t you worry. We are not ruined. I’ve made plans.”
My fingers slowly curl into fists at my sides. “What did you do?”
“I reached out to Lord Eliades. No, don’t give me that look. He’s rich, and he will give me a nice bride-price for your hand.”
“He’s an earl!”
“I’m an earl.”
“You deemed him unacceptable for Chrysantha but acceptable for me?”
He pauses only a beat before saying, “Your circumstances are different.”
Because she is his favorite, and I am not. “The point is to elevate my station! Why would you try to make me a countess when I’m trying to become a queen?”
Father shakes his head sadly. “I’m proud of you for trying, but it’s an important lesson to learn to recognize when you’ve been beaten.”
I know when I’ve been beaten, and I have barely even started.
“You will see reason,” he adds. “Once you’ve had time to come to terms with everything. Now why don’t you let me escort you home?”
I look up to the ceiling, gathering my thoughts and calming my tone. “Let me make things perfectly clear, Father. I am not cattle you can sell
off, and you can’t force me into a marriage I don’t want. Not when the king himself is providing for my every comfort.”
Father purses his lips. “You will wed Eliades or be disinherited.” “Then disinherit me! The king sends me expensive gifts. I have
plenty of money, and I live in the palace. There is nothing you can do to threaten me. You’ve outlived your usefulness, Father. You got me into the palace, and now I can take it from here. In fact, once I win the king’s favor, I’ll make sure you don’t see one penny out of my treasury.”
The room goes quiet, and Father looks at me in alarm for all of a second. “Take some time before you resort to dramatics, Alessandra. I will check in with you later.”
He strides from the room, but his steps are unsure.
|
BEFORE THE SUN IS quite up the next morning—long before the servants should arrive—I let myself into Myron’s rooms. He hasn’t bothered to lock his doors, so I open one door after the next, until I find the bedroom. The setup is completely identical to my room; however, Myron hasn’t gone through any trouble to decorate to his own tastes.
I slide over to the bed on slippered feet and let my gaze take in Myron’s sleeping form. So vulnerable. If I wanted to kill him, I could do it now.
But what I’ve done to Myron is so much sweeter than letting him get off easy with death.
I reach down one gloved hand and flick the end of his nose as hard as I can.
Myron inhales deeply and sits up in one movement, his eyes widening until he realizes it’s me in the room. He rubs the sleep from his eyes.
“If you’re here because you’ve changed your mind about the nature of our relationship, I’m afraid I don’t want you anymore,” Myron says after a long yawn. “Now kindly leave so I can go back to sleep.”
He makes to settle back into his blankets. This time I slap him.
That gets his attention.
“What the hell?” he demands. “Need I remind you—”
I hold a paper before his nose. “You’re going to leave the palace immediately. As soon as I walk out that door, you will pack up your
things and be gone, never to return. I never want to see your face or hear your name again.”
“What is this?” He reaches for the note, but I yank it back lest he get any ideas of destroying it.
“This is a debtor contract.”
Myron scrunches his nose in confusion.
“I have purchased all of your debts,” I say simply. “From the club. From the men you owe money to. All of it. You now owe me five thousand necos.”
His whole body goes perfectly still.
“Nothing to say?” I ask. “Let me make this perfectly clear in case you don’t understand. I own you. One misstep from you, and I send you to debtors’ prison for inability to pay on your substantial debts. How long do you think it would take your brother to get you out of there? Or
—do you think he’d even bother?”
I watch every move of Myron’s throat as he swallows, relishing every second of his new misery.
“You will give back any money you’ve accepted from the nobility, and you will cease to claim any connection to me. If you so much as breathe in a direction I don’t like, I’ll make sure you never see the outside of a jail cell.”
I reach forward and pat his cheek mockingly. “There’s a good lad.
Now off with you.”
“You’re lying,” he says as I reach for the door to leave.
“Am I? Shouldn’t take too long for you to verify for yourself. But don’t dally. You have until lunch to be gone.”
My smile is radiant as I leave his rooms. I only have control over one man, and yet, the power of it washes over me in intoxicating waves of heat. When I am queen, will I experience it a thousandfold, knowing I will command tens of thousands?
|
WITH THE THRILL OF victory still upon me, I go in search of Kallias. It’s early in the day still. Surely too early for meetings? After hailing down several servants, I’m finally told the king is breakfasting in the library.
Why didn’t he extend me an invitation?
I learn why as soon as a servant admits me into the room. Kallias is surrounded by correspondences. Amid countless papers and writing
utensils, I think I see a bowl with hardboiled eggs, and half a piece of toast lies facedown on a book nearby. A book I suspect he is using as a paperweight.
“Now don’t you make being king look grand,” I say.
The Shadow King looks up from the letter he is composing. “It is good to see you, Alessandra. I feel like it’s been ages.”
“That’s because it has.”
He winces slightly. “I hope you can see for yourself that I’ve had good reasons for my absence.” He gestures wildly at the parchment he’s drowning in. At the movement, a whirl of shadow follows his arms.
“We have a problem,” I say without any more preamble.
“Are you all right?” he asks, looking up and giving me a quick once- over.
“Ikaros Vasco came to see me. He questioned whether our courtship is real. He suspects us. My father even showed up at the palace to take me home, because he was so convinced I’d failed to win you.”
Kallias finally sets down his pen. “How is that possible?” Then a look of annoyance crosses his face. “Is this because of the time you’ve been spending with that Calligaris boy? Dammit, Alessandra, you shouldn’t have—”
“It is because of you,” I say, daring to cut him off.
He stands and clasps his hands together in front of him, his shadows darkening to midnight tendrils. “I have done nothing but show my interest in you. You sit at my immediate right during meals. I send you gifts.”
I wait for him to go on, but I realize he doesn’t have anything else to sell his point. “You hardly ever join us for meals anymore. True, you send me gifts, but you never accompany me to events away from the palace. Your neglect of me is showing. Myron started to take advantage of that, but I have done away with him. You need to do more, especially since we cannot behave as a normal courting couple.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?”
“Normal courting couples whisper sweet nothings into the other’s ear. They laugh when they are close together, sharing breath. Normal couples can’t keep their hands off each other.”
“We can’t do those things,” he says, his words clipped.
“We don’t have to do those things. That’s not what I’m saying. Devils! Do you want to sell our act of courtship? Then court me, Kallias. Take me on outings away from the palace. Spend time with me outside
of mealtimes. Deliver your gifts to me in person. Act like a man who is infatuated.”
He watches me a long moment, considering my words carefully, I hope.
“No,” he says slowly. “No.” More firmly this time, as though convincing himself. He looks around at the mountain of papers. “I haven’t the time for that.”
A convenient excuse. What is holding him back?
“I would ask you to join me,” he says, “but as you can see, there isn’t room at the table. I will see you—when I see you.”
He flicks his fingers toward the door, a silent dismissal.
|
I’M FULLY AWARE THAT I look like a child as I stomp back toward my rooms. But no one is around to see, so I indulge myself.
When I hear someone rounding the corner up ahead, I straighten and allow my slippers to tread normally. I do my best to keep my irritation at the intruder at bay. Yes, this is my corridor.
“Two letters for you, my lady,” a servant says with a bow, extending a silver platter in my direction. I retrieve the envelopes before disappearing into my room.
The first is from my sister. I stare at her perfect handwriting for a full minute before deciding I should probably read the letter before throwing it into my lit hearth.
Dear Sister,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. Court life holds many temptations, but I trust you are remaining penitent and chaste.
The duke and I are having a marvelous time together. His health is declining, sadly, so our days mostly consist of me reading aloud the greatest works of poetry.
I skim over more paragraphs of the terribly dull activities she does with the duke and the various gifts he presents her (“Ten carriages! Whatever will I do with so many?”).
And then, in true Chrysantha fashion, a few lines of importance buried at the end of her letter:
A constable came by the estate today asking what I know about your relationship three years ago with Hektor Galanis. I thought all the questions odd, of course, but at the very end, the Baron of Drivas demanded to know if I thought you could have had anything to do with his disappearance.
Fear not. While I told them you were a trollop
and undoubtedly slept with the man, you would never do something so terrible as help estrange a noble from his family.
Such an odd exchange, don’t you think?
I do hope you will enjoy the rest of your stay at the palace, and I hope you’ve made some friends who will influence you for good.
Your loving sister,
Chrysantha
I stare at my hands for far too long before I realize I’ve dropped the letter. I don’t even know where to begin processing the various levels of my sister’s ineptitude and carelessness.
I hadn’t known she was aware of my nighttime relationships, and now the baron knows I slept with his son. As well as a constable, who clearly has his backing. How many more interviews do they plan to conduct before coming to question me personally?
And how long will it take before word of my nighttime activities reaches the palace and destroys my relationship with the king for good?
I snatch the letter and tear it into unreadable pieces before thrusting it amid the flames.
I want to yank handfuls of Chrysantha’s hair from her scalp. She’s always taken everything from me. But how did she possibly manage to take this, too?
It is only after several minutes of pacing my room that I remember a second letter arrived. Could it possibly be even more bad news? With dread, I break the seal and unfold the parchment.
Dearest Alessandra,
Forgive the impertinence, but I can’t help but notice how miserable you seem at the events of late. I thought I might do something to cheer you up. I wonder if you might be up for a different kind of entertainment? Would you permit me to take you out for an evening? Shall we say tomorrow night at eight o’clock? I promise you will not regret it.
Your servant,
Leandros Vasco
Perhaps this is just the opportunity I need. I’ve been meaning to ask Leandros questions about the king. I need more information to make Kallias mine, and what better way to get it than to ask a man who used to be Kallias’s best friend?
Not to mention the fact that Leandros adores me. I deserve to be adored for an evening, don’t I? Especially when Kallias won’t deign to take the time to see me.
After only a little further deliberation, I write back.
