In seconds.
The Viper has well earned her name. Her strikes come rapidly, one after the next, and the bigger woman has no chance of fending them off. She shouldn’t have let her opponent strike first.
The Viper faces off against a second opponent.
A third.
The barmaid comes by with more ale, and I lose track of how many more drinks I take from her.
There are things I’m supposed to be asking Leandros. Questions about Kallias and if he’s had past lovers. I’m supposed to learn … something. Something that will help with my reputation, I think?
But I can’t quite remember, and right now, I don’t care one bit about any of it. I’m having far too much fun watching the Viper.
And I notice that every time she’s about to go in for a jab, she clenches her jaw ever so slightly. Her movements are fairly predictable. She likes to start high, striking the face to disorient her opponents before moving down lower to the stomach and knocking the wind out of them.
“Who’s next!” the mediator asks. “Who will face our champion and win a cut of the house’s earnings if you’re victorious? How about you?”
He singles out a young petite girl at the front of the circle. She shakes her head vehemently.
“You?” He approaches another girl, this one sturdier, better built for fighting, but she, too, declines.
Maybe it’s the ale. Or the high from all of my previous victories. Perhaps it’s my deep-down desire to be acknowledged by the world.
“I will compete!” I say.
Leandros snaps his neck around, a look of confusion crossing his features, as though someone perhaps threw their voice in my direction.
“Excellent! We have a contender! Step forward, young miss!”
I move my legs, but Leandros grips my arm in a vice. “What are you doing?”
“Competing.”
“You can’t do that. The king will have my head.”
I lean forward. “Good thing we need never tell him of this.”
“Alessandra! You’re a lady!”
“Not tonight,” I remind him, and yank back my arm before stepping into the circle.
I look down at my heavy skirts, but I lose my balance as I do so. Luckily I catch myself before toppling over. “Does anyone have a tie they could lend me?”
No fewer than five men rip hairbands, cravats, belts, or other items from their person to hand over.
I accept a belt and use it to heft my skirts up and away from my legs, before cinching it all in the back.
Several whistles sound appreciatively.
I’m glad Leandros gave me scraps to wear tonight. I’d hate to ruin one of my own dresses.
“What do you call yourself, miss?” the mediator asks me.
I think to give my real first name, but I rather like the idea of something more fun, such as the Viper.
An image of Kallias comes to mind, of the role I desire so fiercely. “Call me the Shadow Queen.”
The mediator shouts the title for the crowd to hear. The boy with the cup runs around the outside, and the gentlemen and ladies place their bets.
“Step up to the center, ladies.”
I keep my eyes on her chins.
Yes, there are two of them. Didn’t she have one when she first started fighting?
“Fight,” the mediator says as he slaps his hand on the ground.
The Viper strikes high toward my face immediately, as I knew she would. I drop down in a crouch and shove my fist as hard as it will go into the middle of her stomach.
She careens backward, her arms going to where I struck her. The crowd goes wild, and my hand throbs. I know enough to keep my thumb outside my fist, but my skin and knuckles are unused to such contact.
The Viper recovers an instant later, shaking out her hands as if she can will the pain away. She bounces toward me, and I keep my eyes on her face.
Her jaw clenches, her left fist coming forward. I sidestep, trying to get in a jab toward her face, but she blocks with an arm like steel, the movement sending a jolt up my arm.
She follows with a punch to my face.
I don’t dodge in time.
Her fist connects just below my eye, and my neck cracks backward from the force of it.
Gravity claims me, pulling me toward the ground. I can see rows and rows of pant-clad legs from where I land. They’re spinning. No, the whole room is. I feel liquid running down my face. Blood? Tears? Spit? Somewhere distantly I think I hear Leandros’s voice.
Then everything goes dark.
CHAPTER
14
“You foolish, foolish girl,” Leandros says yet again when we reach the castle in the early hours of the morning. Since I regained consciousness, he’s done nothing but shove bread and water down my throat. I’ve sort of sobered up, but the left side of my face feels like someone threw a brick at it. Compliments of the Viper.
We walk up a dead hallway, the servants and staff having long since retired to their beds.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I say.
“Next time don’t drink so much.”
“That peasant ale is deceptively potent.”
“All ale is potent when you have six glasses.”
I wince as I tentatively touch the area around my eye. “I can’t believe I bruised my best feature.” I don’t know what I’ll do about the black eye. I’ll need to work a miracle with my face powders to cover it up.
We reach my door, and Leandros drops his voice as he faces me. “All your features are the best. No other woman holds a candle to you.”
He leans forward, kissing the black spot around my eye. When he pulls back, he looks down at my lips.
It was an incredible night. One I won’t forget anytime soon. And Leandros is handsome. Far too handsome for his own good.
I raise a hand into his golden-brown hair, slide my fingers to the back of his head, about to draw him near.
But then I stop.
I’m here to woo the king. Not his childhood friend.
But would he really find out about one kiss?
It wouldn’t be one kiss. I’ve no doubt Leandros is a fantastic kisser, and I’d be dragging him backward and into my room before long.
Do I want a kingdom or a tumble in the sheets? It shouldn’t be so hard to make this decision. But it’s been weeks since my last dalliance.
With a sigh, I let my hand drop. “Good night, Leandros. Thank you for tonight. I won’t forget it.”
A sad grin hits his lips, but ever the gentleman, he nods and strides down the hallway and away from me.
I already regret the decision as I’m left alone and cold in the empty corridor, but it is far too late to change my mind.
I dig out my key from the wads of notes in my pocket and let myself into the room.
I kick off my shoes first, empty my pockets out onto a table.
Then I look up.
Kallias is in the room.
* * *
HE SITS ON MY BED, his legs crossed in front of him. His shirtsleeves are unbuttoned, but he still wears his gloves. No vest or jacket, but a small expanse of his upper chest shows without a cravat or top button done up.
Though he looks relaxed, he’s perfectly alert.
“Did you have a pleasant evening?” he asks without looking at me, no hint of his mood to be found in his voice.
“I did.”
“It would appear Leandros did as well. Why didn’t you kiss him good night?”
He was listening. He had to be. Oh, I’ve never been more grateful for my courage in turning Leandros away.
“A lady never kisses after the first outing.”
“So you wanted to?” Now his eyes snap upward. They narrow in on my black eye like an arrow honing for a target. He rises and strides up to me. “What happened? Did Leandros—?”
“Of course not.”
He raises a hand up to my face, and I hold perfectly still. A single gloved finger reaches forward and bri
efly brushes the skin beneath my eye. The leather is smooth and cold.
Kallias’s hand tightens into a fist and drops to his side.
“He took me boxing.”
“Boxing?”
“He took me to watch the matches. After I won several bets in a row on which player would beat the other, I decided to try my own hand at it.”
Kallias looks as though someone has just presented him a question with an impossible answer. “Why? Why the devils would you do that? You were beaten!”
I raise myself up tall. “Well, yes. But I had a marvelous time until then.”
A breathy laugh escapes the king’s lips, and I can tell the humor isn’t kind.
“Why are you here?” I snap.
“I canceled my evening of meetings,” he says. “I thought to surprise you by taking you out tonight. But you weren’t anywhere to be found. I thought to wait for you.”
“How many hours have you spent sitting on my bed?”
He runs his fingers through his hair in an angry swipe. “Why would you spend the evening with Leandros?”
“Does it matter who I spent the evening with? He’s kind and fun and actually has time for me.”
Kallias is quiet for a moment, likely trying to come up with his next argument. I don’t give him the chance.
“I agreed to your scheme,” I say. “I’m playing the part of your beau. But you know what else came with the deal, Kallias? Friendship. You promised me a friend in you. You weren’t delivering. I had to seek friendship elsewhere.”
“You have Rhoda and Hestia,” he says.
“Rhoda and Hestia aren’t going to ask me to dance at parties. Do you know that no men will approach me? I’m off-limits. It’s as if I have contracted the plague.”
He’s silent.
“Leandros and his friends are the only ones who treat me like a person rather than the future queen. Do you know why they empathize with me? Why they befriended me? Because they, too, know what it’s like for you to call them friends and then cast them aside.
“Maybe I was tempted to kiss Leandros. Maybe I’m lonely. Surely you know what that’s like!”
Kallias recoils, as though I slapped him.
I don’t feel sorry. Not one bit.
“I’m not a doll that you can dress up and leave alone until you’re ready to play with me, Kallias. I’m a person. And if you can’t respect that, I’ll pack my things and leave tomorrow.”
Oh, I really hope it’s not the last of the ale talking. Surely it’s my sensible mind, knowing that Kallias won’t call my bluff. That he’ll apologize and beg me to stay. That he’ll change his ways and start paying me attention.
Or perhaps I couldn’t control the threat, drunk or not. Kallias angers me in a way no person ever has. Not even my father.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to say something.
The king’s shadows flare, like flames engulfing his whole body. He turns without looking back and leaves, melting through the wall of solid stone.
Oh dear.
What have I done?
I fall into bed. Despite how terribly wrong everything is going, I can’t help but lose myself to exhaustion. Boxing, combined with the late hour, practically drags my mind away into oblivion.
But just before I go, the skin about my blackened eye warms. Not with pain. Not from the memory of the kiss pressed there.
But at the ghost of a gloved hand.
* * *
MY HEAD THROBS AS soon as I’m awake. It’s a wonderful combination of too much ale and a poor night’s sleep.
And on top of that, everything has unraveled.
What choice do I have but to follow up on my threat and order the servants to begin packing my things? The words burn through my throat as I give the orders, and I snap at two different footmen who move too slowly for my liking.
After a moment, I realize this is a job that will take hours. There’s no point in my waiting around to watch them finish.
I should try to go about my day as normal.
Rhoda and Hestia hold a conversation while I stare at the empty seat at the head of the long table in the great hall. Kallias isn’t there.
Will I see him again before I leave?
And why the devils am I waiting for my things to be packed before leaving? They will arrive at my father’s estate whether I accompany them or not.
Actually, I suppose I’m not going back to the Masis estate. How can I after insisting I didn’t need Father?
And honestly, I’d rather not see his face too soon. No, I’ll go to an inn. Stay on my own for a while until I can rethink everything.
That chair remains empty during the entire luncheon. Of course he doesn’t want to see me.
I’ve lost him. I’ve lost a throne, a crown, the admiration of a kingdom, the power of being a queen.
I take my time returning to my rooms after spending the afternoon in the sitting room sewing. As though some brilliant plan to salvage everything will come to me if I just have enough time.
What am I going to do? Am I really letting myself lose everything?
First, I should probably take a look at my eye to see if the face powder is still doing its job to cover my bruise. Then—I don’t know what will come next.
If my room is all packed, I’ll leave. If not, I’ll dally a little longer.
I let myself in, dreading the fact that I don’t hear the flurry of feet. They must be done! But as I walk through my rooms, I find the unexpected.
It’s as if I’d never ordered anything’s removal. The room has been cleaned. The bed made. The furniture dusted. But the wardrobe is still full of my clothes. The vanity holds all my cosmetics.
Nothing is packed.
Those lazy, horrible servants. I stomp back out into the hallway, eager to find someone to yell at, and am instantly hailed down by a servant.
“My lady,” he says before I can utter a word. “The king requests your presence. Would you care to follow me?”
Yes, I do care very much. Has Kallias more to say about last night’s jaunt? Does he want to publicly banish me from the palace? Cast me out for attending an outing with his once friend?
But if there’s even a chance that he wishes to forget the argument and have things go back to the way they were, I must take it. I can seduce a king even if I only see him for a half hour two or three times a day, surely? I can get over attending parties where no men will talk to me. It’s only for a short time. Until I can secure the king in marriage and then kill him. Then I can have all the male companionship I want.
But blast, why does Kallias have to make everything so damned difficult?
The servant leads me to the first floor, taking me out a back exit of the palace. He stops before a simple carriage and holds open the door for me.
Inside, I see an outline of black pants and fine shoes.
Kallias?
Is he going to personally escort me from the palace? Why?
Grasping my best attempt at maintaining my dignity, I step into the carriage and sit opposite the king.
The door shuts behind me, and Kallias uses the rapier lying on the seat next to him to tap the roof of the carriage twice.
After a slap of reins and the jolting movement of the horses, we’re off.
The shadows dance along the cushions about his legs and shoulders. He wears a cotton-white shirt. No jacket or vest. Though he wears his gloves. His pants are very simple today. His shoes are fine, but I suspect it’s because he doesn’t own anything else.
By his face, I can tell he’s waiting for me to ask him a question. Why are we here? Where are you taking me? Are you still angry?
But I don’t give him the satisfaction.
I turn up my nose and look out the window, watching the passing scenery. It’s not much to look at. Homes and stone streets and common folk going about their daily business.
But then the carriage turns, and I’m pitched right out of my seat and toward Kallias’s lap.
There’s a sensation like smoke from a fire passing over my limbs, and my nose inhales the lavender-mint musky smell of him. But I don’t feel the outline of Kallias against my body.
When I open my eyes, I realize I haven’t landed on him.
I’ve gone through him.
I’m inside him.
I’m on my knees on the seat he occupies, him and his shadows engulfing me.
“Ahh!”
I thrust myself backward, worried that he’ll somehow stick to me. That I’ll have captured the shadows, that I’ll be forever encased in darkness.
The smoky sensation abates at the same time the carriage comes to an abrupt halt. I have to plant my feet more firmly not to topple forward into the king once again.
But then I realize—
I touched him.
I broke the law.
He’s already cross with me.
Now what will he do?
I look up, see that Kallias is still all in one piece. I haven’t somehow scattered him by toppling forward into the swirling, incorporeal mass of him.
His face is still as stone, despite it not being as solid as such.
“Everything all right, sire?” the driver calls down.
Kallias’s eyes never leave mine. “We’re fine. Continue on.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
We’re traversing up the mountain, I realize. Not down. That’s why I fell out of my seat, why I feel as though I’m constantly about to lose it once more.
And now I fear the king is taking me somewhere to kill me.
Could I run away? Leap from the carriage and disappear before he can follow? Then what will become of me?
I should try. I should think of something.
“Are you real?” I ask, the words jumping from my lips before I can hold them back.
“Quite real,” he says in response.
“But you’re not solid. You’re … all shadows. Did I hurt you? Is that why you don’t wish to be touched? Are you going to kill me?” The questions all topple out, each one starting before the last one has quite finished.
He fingers the handle of his rapier. Hopefully for something to do and not because he’s contemplating using it.
“No,” he says at last. “To all questions.”
My heart calms somewhat. He really has no reason to lie to me. If he were going to kill me, I suppose he would just be done with it.
The Shadows Between Us Page 13
