Degrees of Wrong

by Anna Scarlett

  with bodily fluids. You have twenty-four hours before the effects are irreversible.

  Or rather, twenty- one hours.”

  “Elyse,” Nicoli whispered. “What have you done?” The agony in his voice

  was also etched on his face. He raked a violent hand through his hair and

  growled, the sound reaching the most private corners of the ballroom.

  “I did what I had to,” I told him weakly. “I’m sorry, Nicoli. So sorry. You

  weren’t supposed to be here, you were never going to see this—”

  “Damn it, Elyse.” He pounded both his fists on the table. After the echo of

  impact, the room fell silent, muted with shock. And then he looked at me with a

  calculated calm. He flung his chair behind him and strode to me with purpose.

  He jerked me out of my seat by my forearms and pulled me to him.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” But I already knew.

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  “Sharing your fate.” And for the second time, his mouth came down on

  mine. He kissed me roughly and thoroughly, and for a longer time than was

  appropriate in front of an audience—and especially this one.

  He still held me when he pulled his lips from mine and turned to glare at

  General Marek. “You have twenty-one hours, sir. Or we both die.”

  “No!” Lillian’s sobs shook her tiny body.

  This was just too much. The room took a savage spin, the light of day

  diminishing in a tunnel. I tried to find my footing, but none of my limbs seemed

  to respond. I looked up to Nicoli, saw his perfect face contorted in panic.

  “Elyse? Elyse! No! Stay with me! Stay with me, Elyse!” I could tell he was

  yelling, but he sounded so far away.

  My last thought was that this had not gone as planned. The darkness

  engulfed me.

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  “Elyse, love?” he said softly. “Are you awake? Elyse, if you can hear me, we

  need to know what you’ve given us. Dr. Folsom knows you didn’t give us the

  virus, but she’s not sure what you gave us to make us this sick.”

  I felt the back of a hot hand brushing my cheek, a warm body beside me in

  the bed.

  “Ugghh,” I said. I hoped he could take that for Yes, I’m awake, and I’m working on answering you. My mouth was dry, and my eyes wouldn’t open.

  He shifted his weight closer, and I could tell his face was also closer as he

  said, “Can you hear me, love? What did you give us? We need to know so we

  can get better.”

  Nicoli’s voice was raspy. He didn’t sound well.

  And then I remembered everything.

  My body ached all over, and I stirred around to gain the momentum to

  speak. “I didn’t give you anything.” I tried to sound as angry as I could with an enlarged tongue. “You took it.” I still couldn’t open my eyes.

  He laughed. “Yes. Yes, I did. Was thinking about doing it again too. But we

  need to know what it is, love. We need to get better. We have a lot of things to

  argue about, you and I.”

  I brought my hands to my eyes and began to rub them open. The room

  unfolded as a blur. Nicoli peered down at me with unconcealed worry.

  “I accidentally fainted,” I informed him.

  Degrees of Wrong

  “Accidentally. Really. Because from where I was sitting, it looked like it fit in with the rest of the perfectly executed plan. Honestly, I’ve seen governments

  overthrown with less precision, love.”

  “Am I going to be arrested?” I tried not to sound scared. Was I already

  arrested? I took the time to take in my surroundings. Nope, definitely not jail.

  We lay in a huge canopy bed with very luxurious, very soft and very golden

  bedding. The room was affluent with furniture derived from the same dark

  wood as the bed, all of it elegantly carved and polished to a gloss. Under normal circumstances, I would assume that the ornamental fixtures and picture frames

  around the room were brass, but right now the more ridiculous part of me

  imagined it all could very well be gold.

  I looked back to the man beside me, confident. “This isn’t prison.”

  He rolled his eyes. “No. As it turns out, threatening to kill yourself in order

  to strong-arm the Secretary General of the United Nations is not a crime.”

  He offered a weak smile, and it was then that I realized how horrible he

  looked. His beautiful olive skin was now placid ash. Dark shadows encompassed

  his eyes. His normally alluring, full mouth was thin and lifeless, lips cracked dry from dehydration.

  “How long have I been out?” I asked, alarmed.

  “About twelve hours.” That was too long. We didn’t have much time to

  correct it. Of course, I hadn’t expected to pass out.

  “We have the Black Plague,” I told him.

  “Dr. Folsom tested for it and said that we didn’t.”

  “Then…then the negotiations…” I tried to rein in the disappointment of my

  failure. If Dr. Folsom had tested for it, the general would know that I had been

  bluffing.

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  Nicoli chuckled. “You’ve no reason to worry about that. As soon as you lost consciousness, my father was on his feet, making calls. He convened an

  emergency meeting with the council. He didn’t wait around to confirm that we

  were dying. They should be wrapping it up pretty soon.”

  “Oh,” I breathed in relief. “Well, we’re not dying. It’s not the Black Death. We have the Black Plague. The one that struck down Europe centuries ago. Caused by the bacterium Yersinia pestis.”

  “Wherever did you find that?” I heard Dr. Folsom say from across the room.

  “That’s been eradicated for decades.”

  With not a little pain, I lifted my head to look at her in front of the large, dark window across the room. She was gripping the gold curtain, and I felt sorry I’d

  worried her with my theatrical display. Still, I couldn’t have included her in my plans. I wouldn’t want her to take the punishment with me.

  “It was eradicated, except in government labs,” I corrected her. “It was in

  some of the specimens I requested. One of the biologists had studied it in

  comparison to the Black Death, trying to find common links between the two. I

  chose it because it causes the same symptoms as the Black Death. It had to be

  believable.”

  Dr. Folsom released the curtain and walked to the bed, sitting down next to

  me. She took my hand and patted it. Nicoli’s arm circled my waist, and he rested

  his head on the pillow next to mine. I scooted closer to him and he grinned.

  Shameless as it was, I wanted to soak this moment in, never forget it—even

  though forgetting would be the best thing for both of us.

  “So, what do we need to do, you clever little chit?” he asked.

  “We just need antibiotics,” Dr. Folsom told him. “I’ll go round them up.”

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  When she got to the door, she stopped, tears in her eyes. “Your parents

  would be so proud of you,” she told me hoarsely. “So very proud, my dear.”

  And then she left.

  I turned to Nicoli, tears blurring my vision of him. He wiped them away

  with the back of his hand.

  “You are in s
o much trouble,” I told him. “Being nice to me now won’t help

  you.”

  He laughed. “I’m well aware of your temper, Dr. Morgan. And I’m still here.

  But which of my offenses am I in the most trouble for?”

  “Your little stunt in the conference room, for one. Also, your lying about

  your exact lineage and ancestry comes to mind as well.”

  He shook his head. “I would like to believe my little stunt helped your

  maniacal cause. And, I didn’t lie about it. I simply…omitted some things I

  thought you might find distasteful.”

  “That’s the same thing as lying.”

  “No, it isn’t. Besides, it’s not like it wasn’t public information.”

  “You knew I didn’t know.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Because right now, I didn’t feel like there could be

  a bigger idiot left in the world.

  “Because I thought it would preclude any small shot in hell I had in getting

  close to you.” He took my hand and rested it against his cheek. “And that I couldn’t allow.”

  I wrested my hand away. “But you’re engaged. That alone precludes any

  chance. You know how I feel about it.”

  He recaptured my hand, and after a small battle in which strength overruled

  stubbornness, he was able to place it to his cheek again.

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  “I’m not engaged anymore, love.”

  My heart fluttered. “You’re not?” But I wouldn’t dare to believe it.

  “No,” he whispered, leaning in closer.

  “How? When? I don’t understand.” My mind raced, my heartbeat faltered

  and my breathing didn’t fare any better. I hoped it was just the infection, because otherwise I wasn’t taking this news well at all.

  “Calm down. You’re still very ill, remember? Maybe we shouldn’t talk about

  this until you’ve regained some strength.” His brow creased in concern.

  “No, Nicoli. Now. Tell me.” I struck my fist against the blankets.

  “You are the most stubborn person alive,” he muttered.

  “No. Let me tell her,” called a songlike voice from the door. We both turned to see Lillian Marek, in all her loveliness, glide over the threshold and come to sit on the bed next to me.

  Nicoli sighed heavily and moved away from me, stretching out full length on

  his back. The rush of cold air in his wake made me shiver. “Elyse, I believe

  you’ve already met my mother, the second most stubborn person alive,” he said dryly. “And the world’s most scandalous eavesdropper.”

  “That’s what makes me a good mother. Now, my dear.” She took my hands

  in hers. “About the matter of Nicoli’s engagement—”

  “Really, the details are not important, are they?” Nicoli ground out.

  “Yes,” we snapped in unison.

  Nicoli snorted. If the ceiling were alive, it would have cringed with his glare.

  She wiggled around for a moment to get comfortable, then patted my hand.

  “Now, I am not sure how much you know about the whole thing, but this is the

  gist of it. One morning, we came down to breakfast and we see none other than

  our absentee son waiting for us at the table. He says he needs to discuss

  something with his father. He says it’s about his engagement. Then, our other 290

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  absentee son, Ryon—I believe you’ve met him, my dear—walks in the door

  grinning like a cat and saying he also needs to talk to his father about getting married. He is surprised to see Nicoli, as he said he had come to deliver a

  message from Nicoli about setting a wedding date.

  “He proceeded to tell his father the message—I could tell that he had been

  restricted to his use of language—and his father is growing very red in the face

  about the message—and then Ryon tells his father that at least he brought some good news with him, that he found his mystery woman, and that she had been

  staying with Nicoli these past months on his ship. Well, my dear, by then I could see what had obviously happened here, but you know how men can be, and so

  when Ryon said he was going to marry you and Nicoli said ‘Like hell you are’—

  oh! Please excuse the language, my dear, I’m just saying what he said—and then Nicoli punched his poor, defenseless brother in the nose, breaking it again! They wrestled all over the house, and only two days ago was I able to have the carpet replaced in the library!

  “At any rate, after a few minutes I had to actually sit there and tell the Secretary-General of the United Nations that our sons were obviously fighting

  over the same woman, and when he realized what I was telling him, he broke up

  the fight and said neither of them could marry you, that he wouldn’t even subject an enemy to such immature nitwits. Well they stared after him when he left the

  room and he came back with something in his hand… My dear, you should have

  seen their faces when he told them to draw straws for you! At any rate, when Ryon reached for a straw, his father snatched his hand away and said he had

  failed the test, that since Nicoli refused to draw straws, he was obviously the one in love with you, and this set Ryon off again and they took to fighting—I’ll never ever be able to replace that china pitcher, Nicoli Marek—and I dare say, young

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  lady, you did a wonderful job repairing Ryon’s leg because he was really kicking

  with it that day—”

  “Mo-ther,” Nicoli interjected through clenched teeth.

  During the entire story I could only gasp appropriately as Lillian Marek gave

  an animated performance of punching and kicking and gouging throughout her

  regalement. Otherwise I embraced the persona of a nitwit myself, staring at her

  with eyes wide and mouth ajar.

  She sheepishly covered her mouth with her petite hand. “So, Nicoli’s not

  engaged anymore.”

  When I thought I could trust my tongue to form words, I said, “I—I’m afraid

  I still don’t understand—”

  Nicoli rolled his eyes. “Shocker.”

  Lillian drew in a deep breath, and I could tell she was prepared to finish the

  onslaught, but Nicoli raised his hand to her. “I will finish, thank you.”

  He turned on his side to face me, propping his head up on his arm. “I spoke

  with my father, and he gave his blessing to allow me to formally withdraw my

  intentions toward my fiancée.”

  “No. That is not what happened. You see, my dear? Men abhor details.” She pointed at her son. “What really happened was that Bakari—that’s my husband, but of course you already knew that—refused to allow Nicoli to break off the

  engagement. But then, I pointed out to him what a political advantage it would be to have his son marry the person who found the cure for the Black Death—we

  knew you could do it, my dear—and then he thought about it some more and

  agreed that it would be advantageous indeed, so he said that Ryon could marry

  you. Well, this outraged Nicoli, as you could imagine, and heaven only knows

  what he would have done if I hadn’t stepped in and threatened to leave my husband if he didn’t let Nicoli out of his engagement. You see, my dear, Bakari

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  and I married only for love, and I always did hate that Nicoli wouldn’t have that.

  Oh, he never seemed to mind it bef
ore, until now. At any rate, Bakari eventually

  gave in, because he knows he needs me, who else is going to run this monstrosity of a house? And so, Nicoli’s not engaged anymore,” she finished again.

  I glanced at Nicoli, but he had already buried his face in his pillow, balled

  fists holding it in place. I could see he had no intention of coming out anytime

  soon. I turned back to his overly excited mother and smiled. “Uh. Th-thank you.”

  But it sounded more like a question.

  “You are quite welcome, my dear. I have been waiting here patiently to meet

  you ever since. Although I must say, I might have to threaten to leave him again, after what you did today.” She shrugged. “A mother does what she must.”

  I tried very hard not to shake my head with disbelief. All these years, I had

  been under the impression that the wives of politicians should be…well, secret keepers. This woman was the epitome of frankness.

  “I—I don’t know exactly where to begin—” I stuttered. Again, I glanced at

  Nicoli, who groaned into the pillow but wouldn’t surface. The most important

  part of her entire revelation was that Nicoli wasn’t engaged. So, despite the

  aching in my lungs, and the discord in my joints, I had never felt better in my

  entire life.

  Still, as usual, I had inadvertently caused more trouble than should be

  possible, and I felt I should try to make amends. In spite of my elation at the

  sudden availability of the man lying next to me, I took on a serious demeanor.

  “I…I suppose an apology would be in order, for all of the trouble I’ve caused,” I began. “You should know that I had no idea your son was the prince—”

  She giggled, and Nicoli jerked the pillow away from his face. “For God’s

  sake, Elyse, I’m not a prince.”

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  I swallowed. “Right. Well, then, whatever it is that you are.” I hoped my

  convoluted amendment made sense. “Might as well be,” I muttered. He raised

  his brow at me. “Uh, anyway, Mrs. Marek, I am so very sorry for the

  inconvenience I’ve caused to your family. It was not done intentionally—well,

  most of it anyway—and you can be sure I am very sorry about your carpet and

  your china pitcher. Also, about the whole Black Death scare downstairs, and

  forcing your husband’s hand in my own political agenda. And I feel terrible