The Shadows Between Us

by Tricia Levenseller

  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 hist
ory 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.

  CHAPTER

  10

  The dress I’ve selected for tonight is perhaps my most exquisite. For my first outing away from the palace, I want to draw attention. I want everyone to know I’m the one courting the king over six kingdoms.

  Even if he’s not in attendance with me.

  The gown is silver, the skirt showcasing loose ribbons made to look like waterfalls spilling down the sides. Tiny gems, sapphires and emeralds, are shaped to look like fish jumping from the bundled fabric all along the hemline.

  My only accessory is a gray fan, perfect for hiding my features should the play turn out to be dull.

  And of course to hide my distaste over Myron.

  He has his curls pulled back out of his eyes and secured at the back of his head with a band. His jacket is ebony-colored with gold stitching along the hems, across his shoulders, and down the front. Tight-fitted black dress pants with gold buttons adorn his long legs.

  “Your arm, Alessandra,” Myron says as we exit the carriage.

  I refrain from clenching my teeth as I place my arm in his.

  Rhoda and Hestia accompany us. And though I’ve introduced Myron to both of them as a childhood friend, they keep shooting questioning looks over at him.

  “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me what color you were wearing tonight,” Hestia moans from beside me. “I should have guessed silver!”

  “Your pink gown is lovely,” I tell her. “You look like a spring fairy.”

  “I need to be wearing what the future queen is wearing.”

  I’m too flattered by the assumption to say anything right away.

  “At some point,” Rhoda offers, “you really must become your own woman, Hestia. Find your own style. And own it.”

  Hestia ignores her.

  “I believe that’s enough chatter, ladies,” Myron says. “Come along.”

  “We can talk as we walk,” I bite out. He is not allowed to treat my friends this way. Still, Hestia and Rhoda say nothing as we climb up the drive.

  The Viscount and Viscountess of Christakos have a lovely estate. Neatly trimmed hedges line the drive. Steps made of marble lead to the front door, and the viscount and his wife are dressed in only the finest silks and satins.

  The lady of the estate takes my hand in hers when it is our turn to be greeted. “Lady Stathos! What an honor it is to greet you in my home, but where is His Majesty?” She stares at Myron, as though by squinting she might be able to transform him into Kallias.

  “Detained by work, I’m afraid.”

  “A pity. Do make yourself comfortable, and I hope you will tell him how you enjoyed our hospitality.”

  Myron tightens his grip on my arm.

  “Instead, I’m accompanied by my friend Myron Calligaris,” I say awkwardly, “second son of the late viscount.”

  “Oh. How do you do?” the viscountess asks politely.

  “Quite well considering, my lady. I hope you won’t be too wroth with Alessandra for allowing me to escort her in the king’s absence. She thought the distraction might do me some good.”

  The viscountess smiles, but she looks pointedly at the guests behind us, very clearly suggesting that we’ve taken too much of her time.

  “Lady Christakos has many more guests to greet. We should be on our way to enjoy the festivities,” I say. Then I start walking, pulling Myron along with me before he can say anything else stupid.

  The ballroom has been cleared of everything save cushioned chairs, which are fashioned in a circle around the middle of the floor, which I assume is reserved for the stage.

  Our seats are in the front row, because they were selected for royalty.

  “Oh, look! It’s the Duke of Demetrio. His daughter is coming out into society early next week. Alessandra, you must introduce me.”

  I know about the ball held in the duke’s daughter’s honor. I’ve already accepted an invitation to the event, but I can hardly go over there right now and let Myron make a fool of me yet again.

  “The play will start soon,” I argue. “There’s no time.”

  Myron answers me with a look. A look that very clearly states what will happen if I don’t do as he bids.

  But I try again. “There’s one seat open beside him. You could snag it before anyone else does. Then you’d have the whole play to talk with him.”

  Myron thinks it over for only a second before leaving us.

  Thank the devils. And I really hope he doesn’t do too much damage on his own.

  We finally take our seats. Rhoda sits in the middle between me and Hestia, the chair to my left unoccupied.

  “Remind me why we brought him with us?” Rhoda asks.

  “I had no choice. My father demanded I introduce him to some new people,” I lie.

  “Quick thinking on getting rid of him, though,” Hestia says.

  “Thank you. I wish I’d never been—friends—with him.” I hurriedly interject the word I’d almost left out. “He’s only using me due to my favor with the king.” I glance to the girls to my right. “Is that the only reason we’re friends?”

  Hestia looks affronted. “Of course not! It was your dress that made me want to be your friend! And now that I know you, I couldn’t care less about what you wear! Well, for the most part,” she amends.

  “I admired your ability to snag a man so quickly,” Rhoda adds. “It had nothing to do with the king specifically. Aren’t we all drawn to our friends in the beginning by trifling things? True bonds develop afterward, when character is revealed.”

  Satisfied with their answers, I look out toward the empty stage.

  A gentleman with tan locks eyes the empty spot beside me and gives me a grin.

  Leandros.

  “Alessandra,” he says after walking over. “I’m so delighted to see you’ve joined us outside the stuffy palace for a night. However did you manage to separate yourself from the king long enough? You wouldn’t be giving me false hopes, now, would you?”

  Oh, he’s such a flirt. I love it.

  “It’s all in your head, I’m afraid, Lord Vasco,” I say.

  He throws his hands over his heart dramatically. “You wound me with your formal address.”

  “Where are your cohorts this evening?” I ask, looking behind him for signs of Rhouben and Petros.

  “I’m surprised you can’t sense Rhouben’s distaste from here. You’ll find him to the right. Third row from the front.”

  The brightness of his attire stands out like a beacon. I would have seen him if I had but looked. His clothing shimmers with golds and reds. On any other man, it would look ridiculous, but he pulls it off with confidence. To his right, I can see the very reason for his distaste.

  Melita Xenakis. She has his arm in a death grip, looking quite pleased with herself.
As though Rhouben were a fish she’d just caught. As if sensing my stare, she looks in my direction. Once she sees the empty seat beside me, where the king should be sitting (or perhaps she’s thinking of Orrin?), she grins to herself and looks away.

  What a little bi—

  “And Petros is off giggling in the corner with Lord Osias.”

  “Isn’t that the man who was flirting with his beau at the ball?”

  “Yes, well, Petros has decided that two can play at that game.”

  “How very conniving of him,” I say with a smile.

  “Oh no!” Hestia suddenly says. “A footman is bringing Lady Zervas this way. Leandros, sit down!”

  Leandros attempts to eye me for permission, but Hestia rises and shoves him into the empty seat beside me before regaining her own. The footman doesn’t miss a beat, slightly altering his course to deliver Lady Zervas to a new location.

  “Why don’t we want her sitting with us?” I ask, leaning into Rhoda.

  Hestia does the same, bending over Rhoda’s lap so I can hear her whisper. “She’s a terrible bore. So melancholy all the time. We wouldn’t have any fun with her around.”

  “I don’t recognize her from the queen’s sitting room,” I say.

  “That’s because she doesn’t join the other ladies,” Rhoda says. “She keeps to herself most of the time.”

  “I wonder why she sticks around the palace at all if she doesn’t enjoy the company.”

  “She has to!” Rhoda explains. “Her presence was ordered at the palace just like the rest of us.”

  Ah, she was there the night the king died. Now the palace is her prison until the culprit is found.

  I watch Lady Zervas take her seat. As soon as she does, she looks right at me, her expression practically lethal.

  Leandros chuckles from next to me.

  “Why is she looking at me like that?” I ask.

  “All ladies will look at you like that when you’re sitting next to me. It’s the jealousy.”

  I give him a doubtful look.

  He grins. “All right, it might not be because of me. But it is the jealousy.”

  “Because I’m courting the king? He’s less than half her age!”