I demand my maid look for something red in my wardrobe the next morning. I know exactly the garment she will find. A floor-length dress that requires a petticoat to give it some volume. From my waist to the floor, the silk is gathered in bunches, giving it a tastefully wrinkled look. The bodice turns black at the torso and hugs my waist, coming to a little point over each breast, giving me full coverage. The dress is sleeveless, but I wear gloves that climb nearly to my shoulders.
I didn’t want to detract from my new necklace by wearing a dress with sleeves.
My maid does the clasp at the back, and the red rose pendant falls over my collarbone, matching everything beautifully.
I am not wearing the dress for the king. Not after last night. No, I’m forced to wear his trinket because all the ladies in the sitting room saw me receive it. How would it look if I were not to wear it?
As soon as I’m done, a tray is brought in and placed on the table, a breakfast of fresh fruits, porridge with sugar, and freshly squeezed juice.
Next to the first tray, a servant brings in a second, setting it on the other side of my little table.
“What is this?” I ask.
Then Kallias walks in, and the servants leave us alone in the parlor. “I should have known,” I grumble as I take my seat, wondering if I
should be prepared for more chastising from him.
“I thought I would join you today,” he says, holding out my chair for me. “I should visit your chambers to sell our act. We will, of course, avoid the bedchamber, so as not to ruin your reputation.”
I take a sip of my juice before saying, “You were in my bedchamber last night. Is that room only to be reserved for when you feel like yelling?”
He looks down, ashamed. “I was hasty to make assumptions. I should have known the ladies would exaggerate their gossip.” He looks
up from his food, taking a proper look at me. At my neck. “Do you like my present?”
“I liked it better before you yelled at me.”
His eyes darken, and he stops the hand that was on its way to run through his hair. He holds absolutely still for a moment, as though thinking through something carefully.
“Ah,” he says at last. “I have not yet apologized.” “No, you haven’t.”
“I’m sorry for behaving like an ass last night. Could you ever forgive me, Alessandra, my friend, if I promise never to do it again?”
“Do what, precisely?” I ask.
“Jump to conclusions without coming to you first, in earnest. Not in anger.”
I take my time, making a good show of thinking it over. But of course I forgive him. He has by far given me the sincerest apology I’ve ever received.
“You could yell at me in turn, if it would make you feel better,” he offers.
“I’m not in a mood for yelling.”
“Then save it for when you are in the right mood. It’s only fair.” I crack a smile. “I forgive you.”
The tension in his shoulders relaxes, and he focuses on the meal before him. Without looking up, he says, “The necklace is lovely on you.”
He’s really fishing for my gratitude. Is he worried I do not like it? “It’s the most exquisite gift I’ve ever received,” I say truthfully.
A small smile reaches the corners of his lips. “No doubt you’ve received many gifts from men.”
“No doubt,” I answer playfully.
“Has Lord Eliades tried to woo you with gifts?” “So you’ve noticed his attentions toward me?”
“I think everyone in the castle can tell he’s smitten with you.” I smile. “Not yet, he hasn’t.”
“Good.” As an afterthought, he adds, “Because it wouldn’t do for people to think you’re being courted by someone other than me. It would ruin our plans.”
“Of course.” But could that have been just a smidgeon of jealousy in his tone?
 |
I ENTER MY ROOMS for the evening, having spent a lovely afternoon with the ladies in the sitting room. I didn’t see Kallias, save for breakfast. More and more it’s becoming important for me to find a way into the meeting rooms. Not only do I wish to get a head start on running the kingdom, but if those rooms are where Kallias spends the majority of his time, then I need to be there.
How else am I to get him to fall in love with me if we’re not spending more time together?
I send my maid away as soon as I’m dressed in a simple nightgown and approach the bed.
“Alessandra.”
I gasp so loudly, I nearly choke on the air. My hand goes flying to my heart.
“What the devils, Myron?”
He emerges from my wardrobe of all places, dressed in pristine brocade, not a wrinkle in sight despite the cramped quarters he was in.
“Why the hell are you coming out of my wardrobe?” I demand.
“The only way I could sneak in here was to wait until a servant was distracted in cleaning. Then I waited for you.”
“I thought I made it perfectly clear that we would not be speaking anymore. How dare you ignore my wishes? That won’t go without consequences.”
Myron grins like he’s just won his father’s inheritance before folding himself into a cushioned chair near my bed. “That’s the problem, Alessandra. You no longer have anything to hold over me.”
My face remains a mask of indifference, but my skin prickles with fear. “What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you heard the news yet? My father expired this morning. My brother has inherited the viscounty. We’re quite close, Proteus and I. I assure you he won’t care one whit that I lost that thrice-damned pendant in a game of cards. Proteus also has a love of gaming.”
My blood turns cold in my veins. My leverage is gone. “Proteus must be much better at gaming than you, considering he hasn’t gambled away every penny he owns.”
Myron’s jaw clenches, and he stands abruptly. “No, see, you don’t get to talk to me like that anymore, Alessandra. Not unless you want the whole palace to know just how much of a strumpet you really are.”
My vision goes blurry, and sheer anger buzzes through me. My dagger is in my boot. I contemplate using it for all of a second.
But Hektor’s death is being looked into. I can’t have another death on my hands. And I’d never get the body out of the palace unseen. No, this situation has to be dealt with very carefully.
Perhaps I could lure Myron away from the palace before killing him? “Nothing to say?” Myron asks. “Or does your mind need more time
to process this? Perhaps I can assist by making your situation perfectly clear.” He leans forward. “I own you. You will do whatever I say, whenever I say it. And you’re going to start by getting me into that play at the viscount’s estate tomorrow night.”
“The play?” I ask. “Why should you wish to go?”
“Because it’s time I made some more powerful friends. I owe a lot of money to a lot of people. My brother can do only so much for me. But you? The woman courting the king? You’re going to get me into the most prestigious estates in the kingdom. And when the world sees you— the king’s chosen—hanging off my arm, they’ll know I’m someone to pay attention to.”
No no no no no no no no.
I let out a breath of air as calmly as I can manage before sitting on the edge of my bed, placing a defeated look upon my face.
“I was wrong to treat you as I did, Myron. I’m so sorry. But we don’t need to be enemies. We can help each other. I’m happy to get you into the play.”
“Save the act,” Myron says, unmoved. “I’ve known you too long to know when you’re faking.”
“I guarantee you never could tell when I was faking.”
Myron’s cheeks go red, and his neck looks like it might pop a vein. He strides over to me and raises a hand as though he might hit me. He pauses, then drops it. “I’m not one for violence. I don’t need to strike you. Like I said, I own you. Now get me into that play, or I’ll tell the king all about how you like to spend your nights.”
|
This could not be happening.
I’ve always sat at the king’s side, all the nobility watching my every move, as though they could learn the secrets to life’s greatest mysteries if they only stared at me long enough.
And today?
Today, Myron sits on my left, not the king. Orrin, Lord Eliades, having seen an opportunity, quickly took the seat to my right. Rhoda and Hestia shoot me questioning gazes from across the table. But I can’t manage to do much more than glare at my soup.
“We missed you dearly at the charity ball,” Orrin says. “I donated two thousand necos to the homeless shelter in Naxos. Such a small amount compared to the vastness of my yearly income, but I intend to give much more throughout the year.”
Myron leans over. “Smile, darling; everyone is watching. Come now, or I shall have to strike up a conversation that isn’t appropriate for the luncheon table at all.”
My lips turn up, but it’s more of a grimace than anything else.
I honestly can’t say which devil is worse, the one on my right or the one on my left.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Instead, I’ve been plotting how to get out of my situation with Myron. So far, I don’t have any ideas, save outright murder, but I need to be patient. And somehow make sure Myron doesn’t jeopardize my standing with the king.
Leandros, Petros, and Rhouben sit together on the other side of Rhoda, chatting among themselves. Oh, I would give anything to be on that side of the table.
Melita Xenakis, Rhouben’s betrothed, keeps a firm grasp on his arm, as though if she doesn’t, he’ll escape from her. Rhouben attempts to eat his food with his other hand while blatantly ignoring her.
Melita, however, keeps looking over at this side of the table in between each bite of food.
At Orrin, I realize.
Is that admiration in her eyes? How interesting.
“What do you think of Lord Eliades’s charitable acts, Lady Xenakis?” I ask, speaking over the top of Orrin’s next dull remark.
Melita jolts as though coming out of a trance. “I beg your pardon?” “Were you not admiring the earl’s generosity? Or was it something
else?”
Red flames her cheeks. She turns away from me and leans into Rhouben. I glance back and forth between Rhouben and Orrin. Orrin is certainly more handsome, which would probably entice a vain woman such as Melita. I’ve had several more conversations with Leandros and his friends since that first lunch meeting. I know Rhouben is the firstborn
of a viscount. A very rich viscount. He will inherit one day. But Orrin is an earl. Already in possession of his land and title.
An idea begins to form. One that just might rid me of both Orrin and Myron.
“His Majesty, the King!” a herald booms, and everyone is suddenly on their feet. Hestia stands so quickly that her spoon flicks droplets of stew onto Orrin’s tunic. My mood improves ever so slightly.
Kallias strides into the room, takes one look at the empty seats at the head of the table, and says, “Lady Stathos?”
“Yes?” I ask, ever relieved that he’s here. “Come join me, won’t you?”
I don’t wait for a servant to help me out of my chair. I fairly leap from it. Kallias watches me as I sweep past Myron, a look of sheer gratitude upon my face.
“Who is that man? I don’t know him,” Kallias says as I sit. “He’s nobody,” I say in all honesty.
“Now I’m more curious.”
The great hall is back to chattering in full force, so I dare to raise my voice a little. “His name is Myron Calligaris. He’s the son of a viscount.”
“And how are you two acquainted?”
“His father had business with my father. We met on a few occasions when he would come over to the Masis estate.”
Kallias has his attention on his food, but I can’t help but feel as though the indifference is forced. “You’re friends, then?”
“Not anymore.” I make the mistake of looking down the table at Myron, who winks at me.
“He seems awfully friendly.”
That tone. Oh, how I wish I could read it. “You could group him with Eliades.”
“Ah. An admirer who is hesitant to give up. I can hardly fault them for that.”
I place my hands on my lap as a servant retrieves my plate from my previous seat and lays it before me.
“Did another meeting keep you?” I ask carefully. “Has the bandit struck again?”
Kallias’s shadows darken. “Not since the last time, no. But we’ve had word of another problem.”
I nod, focusing my attention on my food. I don’t want to ask. I want him to tell me on his own. I want him to confide in me. To trust me.
My patience is rewarded.
“We’ve had delegates arrive from Pegai.” The most recent kingdom Kallias has conquered. “The news they bring isn’t good. There are open acts of rebellion happening right and left. The people kill my soldiers. Start fires in the barracks. Throw rotten food upon my regent when she travels the streets.”
“They oppose your rule?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “They were beaten. I conquered them fair and square. Their taxes are hardly more than what they were before, and my soldiers provide protection for the whole city. The only lawlessness to be found is within the insurgent peasants.”
“So what’s to be done? Public hangings?”
“So far, it’s only been public floggings. The smaller the population, the fewer taxes I receive. I plan to move on to conquering Estetia by next year. The army needs the money.” He looks up from his food suddenly. “This cannot be interesting to you. We don’t need to discuss it.”
“I find it fascinating,” I answer. “But if I may ask, doesn’t flogging a man make it difficult for him to work? How will you obtain your taxes then?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Oftentimes, it is not fear of punishment that prevents wrongdoing.” As I know too well from my history of disobeying my father. “Sometimes working to gain something is better. What do the Pegains want aside from their independence?”
He turns to me. “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps a good place to start would be to give them a voice. Allow them to select someone of their own choosing to be on the regent’s council—if the attacks cease.”
“You would give them more power?” he asks incredulously.
“Of course not. I would give them the illusion of power. Once you know who they’ve chosen and who that person interacts with the most, you’ll have found the ringleaders. And you can put an end to all of them. Crush the entire rebellion underfoot.”
He swallows the bite in his mouth. “Alessandra Stathos, that’s positively despicable.” He says the words like they’re the highest compliment he can give me. “You are an absolute gem, do you know that?”
My whole body warms at the praise.
|
THAT EVENING, I make inquiries. First to the viscount, Myron’s brother, Proteus. Then to the owner of the popular gaming hall I know Myron frequents.
These are the first steps to putting my plan into action. This is not over. Not by a long shot.
