by Nyna Queen
Darken snorted. “Tell me about it. She’s also quite bossy.”
Excuse me?
“And snitty!” Makesh added.
“And let’s not forget prickly.”
Oh, you—
“Speaking of prickly”—her brother grinned a mischievous grin that reminded Alex a lot of the boy she remembered—“there was this one incident when she tried to break into the kitchen through the upper story window to steal honey pies and ended up falling backward into the brambles. Gave the word ‘prickly’ a whole new meaning.”
Both men laughed.
Alex remembered that incident, too. And she didn’t think it had been remotely funny.
“She had thorns literally everywhere.” Makesh was dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “Took a couple of hours to get them all out.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad you find my misery such a delightful topic.”
They kept grinning at each other like two idiots. Oh, so now they were best buddies all of a sudden? Well, that had gone from rival to ally kinda quick.
“Well, I’m awfully sorry to disturb your male bonding moment.” Alex freed herself from Darken and pushed herself between them. “But while I’d love to stay and listen to you sharing more embarrassing stories from my childhood, unfortunately, we have work to do.”
“Oh, there are plenty more where that one came from,” Makesh said helpfully. Why thank you! Some big brother he was!
Alex gave him the evil eye but his grin only widened. “Ohhh, the eye of perdition! Will I find a dead spider under my pillow tonight?”
Alex felt herself blush. “I-I only did that one time,” she muttered, “and I believe it was Kizdan, not you.”
“I think we should have a drink sometime,” Darken suggested, sounding considerably warmer now.
“We definitely should,” Makesh agreed.
Alex rolled her eyes. “Make sure I’m out of town before you do.”
That made both men chuckle again.
Finally, Makesh cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to your work, then.”
He stepped forward and kissed Alex’s cheek. “It was really good to see you again, little sister. I hope we find some time to speak again soon. I would love you to meet my wife Isabella and the little ones.”
A tight knot formed in Alex’s belly. Never gonna happen.
“Sure,” she heard herself say and she knew that her lips were smiling.
Makesh smiled back at her and tipped his head to Darken before walking away.
Alex watched him and once more she felt like that little girl in the coach, watching her brother become smaller and smaller until he vanished around the bend.
She exhaled the breath she had been holding onto and turned back to Darken. He was studying her, his face unreadable.
“A Sylvaigne, then?”
“Half,” Alex replied tartly, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. “His father was my sire. I lived with them for a while when I was little. But I haven’t seen any of”—she couldn’t bring herself to say “the family”—“them in years. And it honestly never occurred to me that I might meet one of them here.”
It was true. The thought had never crossed her mind, not once. But it should have. And that bugged her. This could have spoiled all their careful planning. Just imagine if she’d run into him at the wrong moment …
“Why did you tell him that we were a couple?”
Now, that was bothering him? Seeing the reserved expression on Darken’s face, Alex felt her temper rise again.
Piqued, your Truebornness? Well, I can be piqued, too!
“Why? Because you stormed in on us like a complete maniac with such a brilliant display of male rivalry,” she snarled. “We might not have seen each other in many years, but Makesh is still my brother and he was ready to defend me. This might be a bit shocking to you, but, having just seen him again, I really didn’t want my brother to die tonight.”
Alex sighed and rubbed her temples. “Look. I had to tell him something. He is my brother. He knows what I am and what I am not.” She indicated the dress and fancy jewelry. “I just gave him something to fill in the blanks. Something that fit in with the whole I’m-working-for-your-brother story. Now he thinks he is in on our big secret and will keep his mouth shut.”
She hoped.
One of Darken’s finely shaped eyebrows arched upward. “And you think we can count on his discretion?”
“And if not?” Alex snapped. “What will you do? Make him disappear?”
Hurt flickered in Darken’s eyes like a flaring spark—there and gone—but Alex still saw it. She reined herself in.
“Yes,” she said after a moment of thinking. “I think we can trust him.” She wished there wasn’t such a pleading note in her voice. “He’s my brother.”
“Whom you’ve last seen as a child …”
It was true. They had been close as children but that was ages ago. What did she really know about the man she’d just met, except that he looked like her sire and seemed to be a happy family man. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Some part of her wanted desperately to believe that some bonds remained no matter how much time had passed. That he had been happy to see her. That he had missed her as much as she had missed him and that he had thought about her after Aunt Sheila had taken her out like the trash at the end of the day.
Darken shifted closer to her, until she felt the heat of his body on her skin. “He upset you.” A soft growl vibrated in his throat.
“Yes. I mean no,” Alex added hastily when a red sheen rolled over his irises. “Not him. He didn’t do anything. He was … kind, actually. But seeing him … it brought back memories …”
Memories she’d rather forget. Worse, it was like holding up a derisive mirror that reflected her life and achievements back at her. Both her brothers … family men … fathers … And what did she have to boast about? A pending death sentence. A threadbare cloak of lies. Stolen name, stolen identity.
The knot twisting in Alex’s stomach became so tight she thought she might collapse. She had thought that she had defeated the monsters of her past, that she had come to some sort of peace with them. But being here raised them all from their silent graves and made them perform a vicious, mocking dance around her.
A warm finger touched her cheek. Darken lifted her chin until she was looking up into his face, his eyes at once worried and tender and full of gentle comfort that carried her like a safe cloud through a stormy sky. She wanted to lean into his touch and forget the past. She wanted to lose herself in this very moment, enveloped in his warmth and strength. One short moment in which she didn’t have to be strong herself.
Darken suddenly became tense beside her. His face abruptly turned cold and he stepped back.
Alex followed his gaze.
A man had entered the cloister and was walking down the corridor toward them, flanked by a manservant carrying a large brown leather briefcase.
Black-haired. Tan. His square face featured a short, trimmed beard that didn’t quite hide the cold line of his mouth. A little too rugged to be called handsome, but not entirely unattractive either.
The military bearing was visible in his every move. He walked with natural confidence, with his shoulders back and his polished black shoes softly clacking on the floor. As far as Alex knew, he had spent his youth and most of his adulthood in the highest ranks of the army, before switching to politics only a couple of years ago, where he had made a surprisingly rapid ascent.
“Senator Roukewood.” Darken’s voice had cooled by about twenty degrees.
A mocking smile curled across the senator’s lips as he stopped before them. “Darken Forfeit. Always such a pleasure to have one of Death’s Servants in attendance. Makes us all feel a little safer, doesn’t it?”
Darken’s chest vibrated with a suppressed growl, although Alex was sure only she could hear it. There was no mistaking the chilly vibes he was giving off, though. It was a surprise the floor was not
frosting over, considering the icy contempt leaking out of him.
If he noticed, Roukewood was completely unfazed by it. His attention shifted to Alex. “And you’re in such fascinating company. May I have the pleasure?”
Clearly, Darken would have preferred to rip out his arm and beat him with it. Even so, he turned to the senator with a stony expression. “Of course, my lord. This is Lady Alexandre de Nuy. A … friend of the family.”
“Senator.” Alex cast her eyes down and sank into a graceful curtsy, letting her skirt spread around her like a silky waterfall.
Roukewood’s gaze rested on her for a long second before returning to Darken. “Charming. I suppose she is spoken for?”
“I usually speak for myself, my lord.” Alex raised her chin and met his gaze.
Roukewood’s eye widened in surprise for a brief second, before a slight spark of interest ignited in them. A small smile parted his lips and he bowed his head. “And well you should, lady. Well you should. Would you do me the honor?” He offered her his arm.
Throwing a quick glance at Darken that didn’t go unnoticed by Roukewood, Alex linked arms with him. On the outside she was composed; inside she was trembling. The spider hissed under her skin, a predator sensing a threat.
Roukewood strolled down the corridor at a brisk pace, leaving Darken behind, who had no choice but to let them go, unless he wanted to look like a complete fool.
The manservant followed but kept a polite distance.
For a moment they walked in silence, while Alex surreptitiously studied the senator from the side. He wasn’t wearing just one but three rings—a massive silver beast with a multifaceted ruby on the ring finger of his right hand, and, on his left, a small signet ring and a wide golden ring shaped like an ivy leaf, studded with little emeralds. An interesting design.
“So, you’re acquainted with Senator Dubois-Léclaire?” Senator Roukewood finally broke the silence. His voice was conversational but Alex was sure the question wasn’t as innocent as it sounded.
“Oh, acquainted would be too strong a word,” she said lightly. “In fact, I only met him a handful of times. My deceased great aunt was friends with his mother in their youth. She is supporting my introduction into the royal society. It is exceptionally kind of the Lady Dubois to take me under her wing.”
“Kind indeed.” Senator Roukewood inclined his head in agreement as he guided her around the bend of the cloister, toward an archway between two columns. Laughter bubbled over as they walked past the gaps in between the columns and Alex got glimpses of the people in the ballroom. It was even more crowded now.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen you before, milady. Or might I be mistaken?”
“Probably not, my lord. It is my first time in Crona.” Alex told him truthfully. “I grew up in a small house in the country. Bouldershore. It’s where I spent the majority of my life. It was a rather … simple life.”
“An innocent country rose then? How peculiar. I assume you’re staying with Senator Dubois’ family?”
“For a couple of weeks, yes.”
“It must be quite an experience, then, to live under the roof of one of Arcadia’s most renowned families, after the sobriety of the country.”
You have no idea.
“To be quite honest, I cannot get used to it.” There, true again.
“And the senator’s brother?” Roukewood’s cultivated voice was still polished and light but the question had all the alarm bells ringing inside Alex’s head.
“What about him, my lord?”
“I don’t want to be frank, milady”—Oh, something tells me you quite enjoy being frank!—“but after seeing the two of you standing in the cloister together … You should be careful, milady. Men like him … they do have a certain reputation. And an innocent country rose such as yourself …”
“Even we country roses have thorns, my lord.” Alex said it just right, sweet, but with a slight edge.
Again that spark of interest lit up in Roukewood’s eyes. His lips curved into a smile as if she had said something very entertaining. “Oh, I’m sure they do. Ah, and here’s my entourage.” They stepped out of the cloister and paused before a group of middle-aged men and women with champagne glasses.
Roukewood took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady de Nuy.”
“The pleasure was all mine, my lord.”
He let go of her hand. “I do hope we will have the opportunity to speak again.”
Alex, who had already started to walk away, glanced over her shoulder. “This is a small world, Senator. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”
She didn’t wait for his reaction, but turned around and forced herself to stride away without looking back again, instinctively knowing that his eyes were following her.
Only when she’d rounded a corner, did she finally sag against a column. She closed her eyes. Her heart was pounding like a bass drum in her chest.
Well, that went better than expected. So why did she have the feeling that she’d just swam into the open jaws of a shark?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BALANCING the bowl of his wineglass on his fingertips, Darken braced his elbows on a low wall and watched the dancers spin around the ballroom in a glittering whirl of colorful fabric and sparkling jewels.
After hours of greeting and mingling, the dance floor had finally been opened and vivid waltz music was sounding from the hidden magic speakers, and people were taking to the floor.
The moment the crier had made the announcement, Josepha had immediately been whisked away by some daring young fop in a silver suit and since then the sons of the noble houses had been lining up for their turn on the dance floor with his niece.
Darken sighed softly. He would have liked to ask her for a dance himself—while he wasn’t a huge advocate of balls as such, he did enjoy the dancing, both waltzes and classical court dances—but he was afraid that if he took her out on the floor, no one else would dare dance with her once they were done, and he didn’t want to ruin her evening. She looked so happy out there.
Circling past, his niece spotted him and beamed, wiggling her fingers at him from the shoulder of her current dance partner. Darken smiled back and saluted her with his wineglass.
That’s how he wanted it to be for her. It was a special thing. Her first grand ball. The excitement, the lights, the hormones …
It would never be quite the same again, no matter how many balls and celebrations and banquets she attended in the future. It was one of the many experiences he wanted her to have, one of the happy memories Darken wanted her to collect like a string of shining pearls—just like the happy memories that were holding his own heart together despite the bleakness of his life.
That was one of the reasons why, despite everything that had happened, he had urged his brother to allow Josepha to go to the ball this year. The latest events had confirmed what he already knew well enough: how brittle and short life could be. There was no use in saving up experiences for later or you might end up never having them at all.
Although he had to admit that he hadn’t expected his darling baby niece to receive quite this much male attention. Oh well, she was almost grown up. If there had been any doubt about that, it had been cleared up.
And then, of course, there was Alex. To say that the spider had caused a stir was putting it mildly. It had quickly become apparent that she was an excellent dancer and, like his niece, she could barely leave the dance floor before being snatched up by the next suitor. And each time Darken had to grind his teeth to keep himself from walking over and breaking the man’s hands—or worse.
Alex didn’t seem to mind all the attention. She floated across the floor, weightless, smiling, curtsying—a trueborn lady if ever there was one.
Darken shook his head. How it hadn’t occurred to any of them that she had to have a trueborn family out there, he had no idea. It was the very thing that defined a shaper: the mixed ge
nes from a halfborn and a trueborn parent. And yet, while being aware of the fact, none of them had really considered the implications. Not that Alex had been very forthcoming about her past.
Darken didn’t know much about the Sylvaignes, except that they were among the lower ranks of royalty. He had heard the name on occasion. Not that any of this mattered to him. What he wanted, was to know everything there was to know about the spider. About her family and her childhood. He wanted to know what made her laugh and what made her cry and what had shaped her into the person she was today. All the little stories, like the one her brother had shared with him in the cloister.
Darken glanced over at Makesh Sylvaigne, who was standing at the other side of the dance floor beside a lovely brown-haired woman. Like Darken, he could barely take his eyes off Alex; they returned to her again and again, full of wonder and doubt, as if he still couldn’t quite believe that she was real.
The moment Alex had left the cloister with Senator Roukewood, Darken had gone to the communication center and had sent a carefully phrased inquiry to Belaris, asking him to check if there was anything about Alex’s half brother that they ought to know that could potentially endanger their operation.
So far, he seemed like a decent man. Seemed being the operative word. He could still turn out to be a corrupt official who frequented under-aged whores while telling his wife that he was going out to the tennis club with his friends. Or something even worse.
You’re just thinking that because you’re jealous, old son.
Clenching his teeth, Darken forced himself to acknowledge the truth in those words. Fine, he was jealous.
The man hadn’t seen Alex in years but he still knew so much more about the spider than Darken did. And she cared for him. Very deeply. Darken had seen it in her eyes in the cloister. There were sorrows there, too, but there was no doubt that she had been delighted by the reunion. And that she trusted him so unquestioningly …
Darken rubbed the gloved fingers of his empty hand together and squashed a sigh. He only hoped Alex’s brother held true to his word; for all their sakes, but especially for Alex.
