Rubies and Roses

by Violet Froste

  “Why do you speak like this?”

  Now it was not merely anger that distorted his voice, but frustration.

  “Why do you not speak truthfully? I’m not asking you for a courtier’s answers — I’m asking you for Adrienna’s answers.”

  Now it was her turn to be angry.

  “What know you of Adrienna? You are as fettered by this marriage as I am; about to marry a stranger as I am. So what makes you believe you know me?”

  “I cannot know you if you do not let me,” he replied stiffly.

  “To what end? Friendship is not a part of this arrangement. Was it not you who told me so?”

  A strange expression crossed his face, too akin to hurt. Adrienna frowned. Why would her words hurt him when she was merely repeating his? Was this not what he wanted? A wife in name only? An empty figurehead to sit at his side while he wore a crown he did not desire?

  “When I said these words you so spitefully throw to my face, I spoke only in honesty.” Sergevni was so close that Adrienna fought the urge to flinch from him, reluctant to appear so easily frightened. “I never wished to cause you offense.”

  “No offense was taken, I assure you. You spoke the truth. It is not spiteful of me to acknowledge it.”

  Her heart was beating too fast, her chest crushed beneath her corset, her gold necklace, the weight of his gaze. When he spoke, his voice was low, the sound of it more intimate than a caress.

  “You are goading me, Adrienna.”

  “Into what?”

  “Into something you want but dare not ask for.”

  He was too close, his eyes too gold. The heat of him engulfed her, his gaze travelled from her eyes to her mouth. If Adrienna had ever thought him soulless, then she was wrong. If there was machinery within Sergevni, then fire fed that machinery.

  The wild urge to kiss his serious mouth coursed through Adrienna like lightning. She suppressed it and forced herself to speak calmly.

  “You’re mistaken, Sergevni.”

  Her voice shook, and now Sergevni was leaning down, and his voice slid against her skin like silk, making the delicate hairs along her flesh raise.

  “I think not,” he murmured.

  “I want nothing from you.”

  “No?” His mouth was a breath from hers. “Not even this?”

  Adrienna’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes fluttered closed for an instant, her entire body lulled by the promise in his voice, her lips parted in anticipation. Then she pulled back. She would not give him the satisfaction of letting him believe she desired his kisses more than he desired kissing her.

  “You want this more than I do, Sergevni of Karscha,” she breathed.

  A mirthless smirk curled his lip. His hand pressed against the small of her back, pulling her close again. She took in a short breath, desire making her face flush

  “Then what is it you truly want, Adrienna of Veritier?”

  Adrienna steeled herself under the blazing heat of his gaze.

  “Soldiers. An army. A fleet.”

  His expression was unreadable. His haughty features were like marble in the azure twilight, his eyes sharp and gold as a hawk’s and hungrier still.

  “And what would you give me in exchange?”

  “Anything you want,” she said, her voice bold, her heart faltering. “Everything you want.”

  He stepped back, and she teetered slightly in the sudden absence of his heat.

  “I see now that I need not have warned you about court. You are quite capable of fighting your own battles.”

  He pushed back the curls from his forehead and said, “You wish for a fleet, Princess Adrienna? You are willing to give me everything for it? Then come to my chambers tonight. Come and earn your fleet.”

  And with those words, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving behind only the icy night and the dark promise in his instructions.

  Adrienna sank back against the leafy wall, exhaling the breath she had been holding. She felt as though she had both won a great battle and suffered a terrible loss. But what could she lose to Sergevni? There was nothing she could give him that he could not claim through marriage.

  Besides, to save Aster there was nothing she would not gladly give up.

  Flushed and breathless, Adrienna returned to the ballroom. She wondered if she looked as though she had just been crushed in the embrace of a lover — she felt that way. But Sergevni was already standing calmly talking to some foreign envoys, pale and serene as a marble statue. Adrienna straightened her skirts, fixed her smile, and joined the throng of courtiers once more.

  Banishing the sickening feeling that fluttered in the pit of her stomach, she accepted every offer to dance. She danced on the arm of every duke and knight; she took every proffered glass of wine and honeyed cake. She even danced with the king for a measure, and when she grew tired, she joined the game tables and played chess and cards with aged counsellors and eminent duchesses.

  It was long past twilight when courtiers began to withdraw for the night. As Adrienna left, arms and hands stopped her from all sides. They invited her to balls and banquets, hunts and bathhouses. They requested her for dinner with duchesses and chess games with counts. She smiled and accepted every invitation; she bowed and curtseyed and gracefully laughed at compliments.

  When she finally returned to her room she hastily dismissed her overzealous ladies-in-waiting. In the middle of the ornate chamber, encased in her heavy gown and lavish jewellery, she felt as though she might suffocate. Flinging open one of the large windows, she took deep gulps of the brittle air, hoping it would cool the burning heat in her cheeks.

  For a long while, she debated whether to go to Sergevni’s room or ignore his instructions. He had not spoken in jest — that much was certain. Adrienna doubted Sergevni even had the ability to jest. No, he had been deadly serious, though what he intended to do was less clear than the determination he had displayed. Would it be dangerous to go? Perhaps. Would it be reckless? Certainly.

  Might it save Aster?

  It was all she needed to think of. It was enough.

  Besides, a dark, pulsing, hidden part of her longed for this. Sergevni’s chamber. It was like advancing into enemy territory with no weapon and knowing danger would inevitably meet her. Exquisite, alluring danger.

  Summoning a page, she asked to be taken to Sergevni’s quarters. The page blinked at her but obeyed, leading her down candlelit corridors until they reached a door. He knocked upon it and bowed, disappearing into the darkness of the palace.

  The door opened, revealing Sergevni’s face. He was unsmiling, curls falling over his forehead, a faint flush across the marble of his sharply carved features. He stood aside and Adrienna pushed past him. His chamber was just as he was: cold, practical, austere.

  She turned to face him as he closed the door, leaning against it. He stared at her, a hard stare that sent shivers skittering across Adrienna’s skin.

  “You must dearly covet that fleet, that you would risk scandal to come and get it.”

  “Why would a scandal in Karscha frighten me?” she replied. “I am a stranger in this court. If they wish to speak of my scandals, then they may. At least I have the courage to come and ask for what I want.”

  “At my invitation,” he said, arching an eyebrow.

  “Precisely — at your invitation. Because you would rather offer me a bargain than make a plea.”

  “A plea for what, Adrienna?” He stepped forward, his jaw clenched, his eyes sharp. “What is it you think I want?”

  “How can I fathom what you want when you are so contrary?” she snapped. “You tell me we are to be spouses but not lovers, then you compel me to share a bed with you. You hold me close and caress me, then you tell me you are only marrying me because you have no choice. You warn me against your father, then you are furious when I make him into an ally. At every turn, you have done nothing but confound me.”

  The words tumbled from her lips, unbidden and uncontrollable. As she
spoke, a great weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. It was freeing, to confront Sergevni with his subtle tortures. It was pleasing, seeing his eyes widen and a dull flush smear upon the carved angles of his cheeks.

  “So for once, why don’t you tell me what you really want, so that when I give it to you, you are satisfied at last,” she finished with steely resolve.

  He looked upon her with narrowed eyes now. Like a commander calculating the costs of a battle, he measured her, his calm, clever gaze travelling up and down her body.

  “I want you to take off this gown.”

  It was Adrienna’s turn to widen her eyes. What could he possibly gain by this? He had already seen her naked — there was no curiosity to prompt his words. Did he wish to humiliate her? How could he, when she had crawled into his arms, only to be told she was unwanted? He had struck a blow of humiliation so true he would never succeed to strike another such blow ever again.

  Whatever he was after, she would grant. Though she would not let him retain the dignity of watching coolly as she did his bidding.

  “This gown is too intricate for me to remove on my own,” she said. “Send for servants.”

  He strode towards her and gently spun her around. Facing away from him, she allowed herself a triumphant smile. He was a capable man and a respected commander — but he was easier to beguile than he thought.

  She felt his hands pull at her laces, and to her surprise, his movements were not quick and functional. Instead, he pulled each satin ribbon with slow, lingering movements. As her dress loosened, his fingers slipped beneath the hems, gently pulling the fabric down her shoulders and arms.

  His touch was light as falling snow as he removed her dress with lingering, deliberate movements. He loosened each lace with torturous slowness, and he slid her petticoats down her legs, his fingers brushing against her stockings.

  Was he stalling, or tormenting her? Adrienna could not quite tell. She stood, striving to repress the shivers that made her jaw ache and her body clench. Finally she stood in nothing but her plain underthings: the white linen corset and unadorned chemise.

  Though she was still covered, she felt more exposed this way than when she had been naked. The corset forced her breasts to heave over the stiff top, the pale swells exposed to Sergevni’s gaze, and though the chemise was long, it was pale and transparent, revealing the outline of her body to him.

  Sergevni watched her with the predatory gold eyes of a hawk. Though his gaze burnt her like flames, she withheld the heat of it.

  “My dress is gone,” she said. “Are you satisfied?”

  He did not seem satisfied. Quite the opposite. He seemed more displeased than ever.

  “Take off the roses, the gold, the rubies… take them all off.”

  She did. She shed the roses, letting the red petals fall at their feet like drops of blood. The filigree crownlet fell with a dull thud. She pulled off rings and earrings and bracelets, letting gold and rubies rain down upon the ground.

  Then she gazed up at him.

  “Now?”

  He stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her breath hitched, her bosom heaving, crushed by her corset. There was no room in her chest for the air she needed. Heat pooled in her cheeks, in her throat, low in her belly.

  He reached forward, and she braced herself, not knowing whether to expect a blow or a caress. But Sergevni neither struck nor stroked her — instead, his fingers caught a feathery strand of dark hair. His thumb slid along the silken length of it, and he breathed:

  “Why do you wear your hair so short?”

  “So nobody would recognise me for who I was.”

  “Was your hair once long?”

  “It would still be long if my captain had not been stolen from me.”

  Now he looked at her — not just her hair, or her mouth, or her eyes. He looked at her, his gaze reaching past the blue of her eyes and beyond. A searching, probing stare that made her feel more naked than if she wore no clothes.

  “Your guard. She meant a lot to you.”

  “More than you could understand. She is everything to me.”

  “And you would do anything to get her back?”

  Adrienna nodded.

  “I would do anything to keep her safe,” she said, her voice catching.

  “You would pay any price? No matter the cost?”

  “I will pay the price, Sergevni. Ask for it.”

  He hesitated — it was then that she knew he would not ask her to lie with him. Had he desired to debauch her, he would not have hesitated, he would have spoken with ice in his voice and steel in his words. But this was something else. He would ask her something he genuinely wanted.

  “For a wedding gift, I will give you a fleet, and soldiers, and anything else you need to save your captain,” he said. “But when we are wed, you must take my place as the ruler of Karscha. You will be queen by name but you will be emperor in my stead.”

  She blinked.

  “You wish to give me power over Karscha?”

  “I wish to sacrifice you to the court to buy my freedom.”

  Understanding dawned upon her. She looked up at Sergevni and she saw him for what he was: a prisoner to his own legacy. A hostage to his own throne. What irony, that the courtiers of Karscha should fight so desperately for power when the one amongst them who would have everything wanted none of it.

  “Yes.” She did not need time to consider his offer. She knew coming into his room that she would have accepted any term. “I accept your bargain, Sergevni of Karscha. I will rule for you and keep your throne and wear your crown so you may be free.”

  Taking her cheeks gently into his hands, he tilted her head up to press upon her the full weight of his gaze.

  “I will often be gone from Sevalensk.”

  She grinned mirthlessly and said, “You would have little reason to stay.”

  He hesitated once more.

  “I might not be able to protect you from the court and its dangers.”

  “Then I will make myself the most dangerous thing in court.”

  A strange smile curved the elegant shape of his lips at her words. It was a smile of mingled regret and amusement, of affection and wariness.

  “We will be married, Adrienna, but we might never be lovers.”

  “No, indeed.” She freed her face from his hands, stepping firmly away from him. “But if you wish us to pursue a marriage of appearances, you might stop making me come to your bedchamber and compelling me to take off my clothes.”

  He frowned, a slight flush colouring his cheeks.

  “I wanted to see you for who you really are,” he said. “Seeing you in your Karschan garb obscured my mind.”

  She smiled, arching her eyebrows.

  “I think your mind is obscured about many things, Sergevni.”

  She extended her hand towards him.

  “If we are never to become lovers, then perhaps we might become allies, at least.”

  He took her hand and instead of holding it, curled his fingers around her wrist, pulling her to him.

  “I would much prefer you as an ally than an enemy, Adrienna of Veritier.”

  “We shall never be enemies, so long as you promise me one thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “Never share a bed with me unless you intend to debauch me, Sergevni of Karscha. It will help me keep the terms of our alliance clear.”

  And with that, she pulled her hand free from his hold. Under his shocked stare, she curtsied low and, still in her corset and chemise, strode from his bedchamber. She had entered with nothing, and though she had gained everything she wished, she still left with the feeling that she had lost something.

  8. Kiss

  For a man about to get the very thing he had desired for so long, Sergevni was in a gloomy mood when he finally climbed into bed that night. Adrienna’s words had filled his mind with thorns, each implication cutting deeper.

  Why had he made her take off her gown? He had wanted to
see her for who she was — not hidden behind her Karschan disguise. And he had wanted to see her again, exposed and defiant as she had been at the crossroads tavern. His eyes were hungry for the sight of her flesh, a carnal curiosity that he could never quite fulfil. How could he still long to see her when he had already seen all of her?

  It was because even naked, the princess felt remote to him, untouchable as a star in a distant firmament. Even naked and in his arms she had felt tantalisingly out of his reach. On the balcony, with her mouth inches from his and a kiss trembling upon her lips, even then she had felt inaccessible. A chasm of unspoken things yawned between them, and Sergevni did not know how to cross it.

  He tossed and turned in his bed, the cold sheets and cold starlight setting shivers shimmering across his skin. The space in his bed was haunted by Adrienna’s absence, and her parting words had put images in his mind Sergevni now fought with all his might. She had spoken only in defiance, and yet there was a challenge in her words he longed to meet.

  He had everything to gain from Adrienna being his ally. She had agreed to his condition, agreed to rule his country for him, agreed to let him take his freedom at the cost of hers. So why did he feel as though he had just lost a game of chess at the table of a remarkable opponent?

  She had asked him what he had wanted in exchange for a fleet; but Sergevni was no longer sure what he wanted. He knew what he did not want: he did not want to rule. He did not want to be a prisoner in his palace. He did not want to become a slave to the wills and whims of the court. These were the things he desperately sought to evade. But what he wanted for himself… that was another matter.

  He wanted Adrienna. He knew this, surer than anything else. But what did he want from her? The thought of kissing her was titillating — the thought of besting her delighted him. He wanted to have her for his queen and have her naked in his bedchamber. The memory of her pliant body in his arms tormented him — did he want her in his bed? Did he want her beneath him, her soft flesh moulding to his, her moans rasping through the pale column of her throat? Did he want to trail kisses over her skin and pierce her with his manhood?