by Ted Dekker
But as the knife neared his throat, Stefan moved with such speed as I had never seen. His right hand snapped up and clamped around the razor-sharp blade. I could hear the edge slicing through the flesh of his palm.
The room gasped. My hand was on the butt of the pistol strapped to the side of my chest.
Stefan stood still for half a beat, glaring back at Alek with dark eyes, and then in three bounds he was there by Alek’s side, the same blade now pressed against my friend’s neck.
Slicing already.
I lurched forward.
“Enough, Stefan!”
Alek’s attacker froze at the sound of the voice, which had come from the doorway. A warm waft of air swirled around the long black coat of a man standing in the open door. Flames in the fireplace bowed away from the wind that the guest had brought with him. He stood with his arms at his sides, staring at Stefan.
All eyes shifted to this man whom I had not seen before, dressed in black like the others. But he stood taller and carried himself with an air of absolute authority. The tail of his suit fell well below the backs of his knees; his slacks covered black boots rimmed in silver; his sleeves were hemmed with red lace, butting into white gloves; his collar ran high behind his neck, framing a head of black hair.
The door blew shut behind him.
“Step away.”
I knew without looking that Stefan would obey. I could judge most leaders’ power by their voices.
For an extended moment the room seemed to be held in the embrace of the man’s power, as if time had once again slowed. I could hear my heart in my chest, the blood rushing through my veins.
A soft groan broke the moment.
“Natasha?” Kesia cried.
“What’s . . .” Natasha sat up and looked around, dazed. She blinked. “What on earth is this?”
“Are you well, my dear?”
Natasha stood, gaining her footing quickly. “Of course I’m well, Mother. What’s this about? Where’s . . .”
She saw Stefan, who’d backed away from Alek, and her eyes lingered on him. But it was Alek who stepped in and took her arm. The blood was still on her lip and she touched it with her tongue.
“Madam, please.” Alek dabbed her lip with a handkerchief. “Are you sure you’re fine?”
“Fine is not a term we can use to inquire of such a beautiful woman.” The late-arrived Russian walked forward and presented himself first to the mother, Kesia. He took her hand and kissed it.
“Forgive the intrusion into your home, madam. These men and women have presented you with a terrible impression of our estate. I am the master of the Castle Castile, a humble guest in your Moldavia. Vlad van Valerik, at your command. Please, call me Vlad, for I am a commoner in your house.”
Kesia eyed him, undecided, then faced Natasha, whose eyes were on Valerik. “Natasha—”
“I’m perfectly fine, Mother. Please, we were only having a little fun. Is a woman never allowed to faint with all of this dancing, wine, and heat? It was all perfectly harmless and sweet.”
But I could see by the way Stefan was watching Alek that what may have begun sweet had turned bitter.
Kesia turned back to Valerik. “Then I accept your apology. And you are welcome in my home. We aren’t averse to a little fun, but please, keep a leash on the pit bulls.”
I liked Kesia less for welcoming Valerik into her home but better for the crack of her verbal whip.
Valerik smiled. “Well said.”
The room was brighter, and I saw that some of the candles I thought had been extinguished were still lit.
“Would you like me to punish him?” he asked.
Kesia glanced at Stefan, who looked to be struggling between his allegiance to Valerik and his anger at having been humiliated by Alek, though he’d succeeded in laying a small cut along Alek’s neck.
So what was driving the dark rage I saw in his eyes?
“What did you have in mind?”
Valerik clearly hadn’t expected her response. He stepped over to Natasha, brushed her cut lip with his thumb. “Such a delicate flower. You, my lady, are an exquisite creature who must provoke the dying wish of any man and half the women in this world. We must not judge Stefan too harshly.”
“No,” she said.
He lowered his arms, clasped his hands behind his back, then walked slowly in a small circle, eyeing the guests. “But some punishment would be appropriate. I wouldn’t want my neighbors to think that I am not a fair man. There are a handful of us in the Castle Castile and we are only a few noblemen and women who have escaped Russia for the summer, like you. It’s a beautiful land, this Moldavia, and there must be order.”
They hung on his words. As, I must admit, did I.
“An eye for an eye, yes?” he said. His eyes came around the room, dark but glistening in the light. They stopped at Lucine. And they seemed to drink her.
When they shifted to me, I felt deep anger, not for the way he looked at me but because he’d looked at Lucine that way.
“Stefan has taken from the one sister. Invited or not, it no longer matters. It would only be fair for the other sister to take from Stefan. You’re twins?”
They were not identical twins, but the similarities were plain enough and the twins were well known. But I didn’t want this Russian to speak to Lucine. For any reason.
“Yes,” Lucine said.
“Would you like to take Stefan for a night and do what you like with him? You could thrash him or force him to bake you a cake or use him for his more natural talents, which go without saying. Assuming your mother likes the idea.”
Kesia blushed but smiled.
“You could even make him your mother’s slave for the night. If any take from a Cantemir, they will give back, no?”
I was outraged! I hated Stefan for what he might do in this ridiculous punishment. How could Kesia not throw these men out on their tails?
Because snakes are not easily thrown, Toma.
“But you don’t understand, kind sir,” Lucine said. “I have no interest in a thug like Stefan. His kind are repulsive to me and I would speak for my mother as well. I wouldn’t even want him to wash my floors.”
The crow’s lips slowly twisted with delight. “I’m sure he could change your mind. He’s very talented.”
“You heard the lady.” Alek spoke evenly. “Take your leave, please. Before you yourself become Stefan.”
For a beat nothing happened. It wasn’t a wise threat, all things considered, but I might have made it myself if Alek hadn’t.
Then Stefan was moving with inordinate speed to defend his master’s honor. But his knife was on the floor and he had to stoop for it.
I pulled my pistol without thought, and I shot Stefan through his head as he started for Alek.
The man dropped like a stone, dead at Natasha’s feet. The detonation shook the chandelier and echoed through the chamber. Blood spread from the wound in Stefan’s head.
I cocked my weapon up, so that the muzzle pointed at the ceiling, still smoking.
“Or we could do that,” Vlad van Valerik said.
“No man threatens the authority of the empress,” I said. “Am I understood?”
“Indeed,” said the crow. He faced the lady Kesia, who had gone white, and he dipped his head. “I’m so sorry, madam. But Toma Nicolescu was right. I might have shot him myself if I’d brought a pistol and seen Stefan’s foolishness. My only regret is this mess on your floor now.”
From behind me I heard Sofia’s husky whisper. “Very nice shot, Toma.”
Valerik looked past me and nodded at her. She brushed my elbow as she passed me. “I’m impressed,” she muttered.
One of the other Russians picked up Stefan’s body in his arms and led the others from the room, leaving a red trail on the white marble floor.
“I’m mortified, madam,” Valerik said, shifting his look from the thread of blood back to Kesia. “My debt to you is now double. I will do anything to reconcile this unrul
y fool’s indiscretion in your home.”
He bowed, arms spread, one foot leading the other.
“Now I must go and teach some lessons.”
He walked to the door, then turned back and faced Lucine. “He is a thug. A beautiful thug, perhaps, but a monster through and through.”
And then Vlad van Valerik and his clan were gone.
FOUR
Two days had passed since Mother’s ball, and it was still the talk of the aristocracy. Having the ball turned on its head with the slaying of a man in defense of honor had immortalized the Summer Ball of Delights.
The name Vlad van Valerik was on the lips of them all. And even more, the name of the one who’d casually drawn a pistol and shot the offender dead in the head, and from a distance of twenty paces no less. Toma Nicolescu. The quiet, tall war hero who had killed a thousand men in battle, a rumor Lucine no longer doubted.
“I can hardly keep my mind off him,” Natasha said, balancing on the fountain wall in her wet white slippers. She dipped her left foot into the water, then reached her right foot behind and splashed it too. She stepped along the stone wall with sopping feet, leaving perfect dark stains.
Lucine hopped up behind her, following with both arms stretched out to keep her balance. She wouldn’t dip her feet, however.
“You can’t keep your mind off which one?”
“The Russian, naturally.”
Lucine pulled up short, swaying dangerously before regaining control. “The Russian? The duke?”
“No, silly. Although I can only imagine what he might be like.”
“Then who? Surely not that dead one.”
Natasha gave her a darting whimsical look as she rounded the far side.
“You can’t be serious! He’s dead!”
“So he is.”
“He attacked you.”
“No, Lucine.” Natasha spun to face her, nearly falling off. “He bit my lip. That’s hardly an attack.”
“He was a monster who paraded about as if you had it coming.”
“And maybe I did have it coming.” Natasha’s eyes flashed. She hopped off the wall, jumped up onto a stone bench, and ran along it, watching her feet. “I did ask for it, didn’t I?”
“Not to be bitten.”
She landed back on the ground and sized Lucine up, mouth twisted around the hint of improper secrets. “And what if I did, Lucine? What if he whispered an invitation to me and I said yes?”
“Please, Natasha, this isn’t funny. You’re not that stupid.”
The look of her sister’s flushed face surprised Lucine. She stepped down, confused by this behavior, though she probably had no right to be. Natasha had always been impetuous. But still . . .
“Perhaps a kiss, but an invitation for a man—no matter how appealing—to bite through your lip? It’s absurd!”
Natasha hurried forward and grabbed her arm, glancing around as if to be sure no one would overhear. “But you weren’t there! Not in his arms, you weren’t. I was, Lucine. He asked me if he could bite me and I said yes. I know it was wrong, but I could hardly—”
“He just said that? ‘Can I bite your lip?’”
“Not like that, of course.”
“Then how?”
Natasha hesitated. “I don’t remember exactly. I do believe he just said, ‘May I?’ and I said yes. But I knew he wanted to bite me because he’d already nibbled my lip.”
“You’re playing with the devil.”
“Then the devil occupies heaven! He bit my lip and I fainted, Sister. I swooned. I have never felt so enraptured.”
The puncture had healed already, and it was true, her sister looked anything but wounded.
“I feel positively vibrant!” She drew a deep breath through her nostrils and looped around, head tilted back, arms wide. “The air is filled with flowers, can you smell them? The sun is warm, the sky is as blue as an ocean, my night—”
“Is clearly tortured, judging by the shambles I found this morning. Your pillows were all over the room and the blanket was on the floor. Clearly you’re bothered.”
“Then bother me again, Sister. If my bedclothes are tossed around, it’s because I’m dancing in my sleep. You see what happens when you throw your cares to the wind and embrace love? Even the night calls to you.”
“You may not be any worse off, but he’s dead,” Lucine said, letting the grin go.
Natasha’s bright eyes clouded momentarily. “There is that, yes. Because of your hunk of a man.”
“Please . . .” She turned away.
“Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at him,” Natasha teased. “And I don’t blame you. The hero stepped in and saved us from the nasty wolves. He’s a beautiful man. I don’t blame you at all.” Her eyes shot to the garden behind Lucine. “Speak of the devils.”
Lucine looked over her shoulder. Toma and Alek were walking abreast past the hedges, deep in discussion. If they’d seen the sisters, there was no sign.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” Natasha said. She brushed past Lucine, headed for the pair.
“Find out what?”
“Who loves whom, of course.”
“Natasha . . .”
Toma must have heard, because he turned and saw them. Alek stepped around his partner and watched as Natasha glided toward them like a snake.
Toma was dressed in gentlemen’s pants and boots to his knees, with a white shirt unbuttoned about his neck. His wavy dark hair fell to his shoulders, framing a strong, smooth jaw.
The cavalryman had remained somewhat busy these last two days, retiring early and staying out of sight except at dinner. Making his arrangements, riding the perimeter, posting several guards—for what purpose, only heaven could know.
His general demeanor did not fit her image of a ruthless warrior. For that matter, neither did Alek’s. Out of uniform they were two handsome specimens, clean cut, directly out of Her Majesty’s court.
His savagery must hide behind those eyes, she thought.
“If it isn’t our two dashing heroes, keeping guard,” Natasha said, slowing as she approached.
They both dipped their heads. “Ladies,” said Toma.
“Now our day is made,” said Alek.
Lucine acknowledged them. “Alek. Toma.”
“Lucine was wondering which of you loves which one of us,” Natasha said without the slightest pause.
Lucine felt herself begin to blush. Any denial would likely give credence to the question. So she allowed it.
Toma looked at them both, face blank.
Alek, on the other hand, looked delighted. “Well, that’s simple enough. I love you both.”
“Rubbish,” Natasha said. “Well, so be it, fine.” She walked behind Alek, picking a piece of lint off his shoulder, then smoothing the jacket. “So you love us both, and who wouldn’t want to be loved by two strapping war heroes? Is that how you feel, Toma? You love each of us equally?”
The poor man was caught unaware by the predator in Natasha. But now that she’d so boldly thrown down the gauntlet, Lucine wanted to know his answer.
“How could I disagree with Alek? He’s not exactly a slouch in these matters.”
“That’s why you’re blushing? Because you are a slouch? In these matters, I mean.”
If he wasn’t blushing before, he was now. “No, that wasn’t—”
“Because I was telling Lucine that I had noticed your eye for her, and she called it nonsense.”
Lucine wanted to disappear into the ground. She had said no such thing, not really, not while meaning it. Of course she liked Toma, who wouldn’t? But that didn’t mean she was infatuated with the man. With Natasha it was always all or nothing. Love with abandon, or nonsense.
“Now see, that’s what I like,” Alek said, beaming. “There’s nothing as alluring as a woman who fears nothing.”
“Including being chewed on, you mean,” Toma said. Lucine immediately wished he hadn’t, because nothing good could come from taking on Natas
ha directly. He would only be humiliated, and the thought of it sickened her.
“Have you tried it, Toma?” Natasha said. “Having your lips nibbled on by a tender woman?”
“Ha!” Alek cried. “You see, Toma? What did I tell you? She’s priceless.” His eyes remained on Natasha. “I will say, my dear, you may test me anytime.”
“If you’re so lucky.” She winked. “What say you, Toma? Is it nonsense?”
His brow was starting to bead with sweat. He ran nervous fingers through his curls. “Nonsense?”
“Do you have any interest in her?”
Lucine suddenly wanted him silent. There was no good answer. If he said yes, it was as likely provoked as true. If he said no, it would only be to protect her. Either way she might find discomfort in the answer, not knowing why he said what he said.
But two could play Natasha’s game.
She stepped toward Toma, wearing a daring smile. “Don’t be silly, Natasha. Of course he has interest in me. Don’t you, Toma? I’ve certainly expressed my own interest clearly enough.”
She closed in on him, placed her palm on his chest, then turned away, removing her hand.
“But just because you find someone appealing doesn’t mean you throw out restraint. Toma has proven that, and I find it charming.”
They all looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. It wasn’t her typical behavior. She relished their reaction.
Natasha was the first to burst out laughing. She was delighted and showed it by hugging Lucine, who felt herself blush.
“You think I’m not dead serious?”
Alek couldn’t resist the call to join Natasha with laughter.
“Not as dead serious as the man they hauled out of here,” Toma said, clearly grateful for an opportunity to change the subject. And all three of them thought that comment hilarious for its brashness. Lucine too, but she was more taken by the laughter itself. Mother would love it.
“Well, there you have it, Natasha,” Alek said, still grinning like a boy. “It’s all set.”
“What is?” Natasha asked.
“This. You and I. He and she. It’s practically written in the stars.”
“Is that so?”
Lucine sneaked a glance at Toma, knowing already that Alek would later get an earful from him.
