I handled Hektor as I have handled everything else in my life: alone and with the utmost thoroughness.
They could not have found him. Even if someone went traveling into the Undatia Forest, there’s no way they could know they were standing on a grave.
In which case, Lord Drivas must think that Hektor has simply been gone too long to be away on holiday, and he’s somehow found it within himself the desire to find his son. Not that he should care that much—what with Hektor being the fourth spare to his heir.
Something’s changed, but I shan’t let it bother me. To do any searching would only attract more attention to me. I will prepare my answers carefully for when Lord Drivas and his constable come knocking. Otherwise, I shall carry on as before.
* * *
SOME DAYS LATER, I stare up at the night-painted ceiling in the queen’s sitting room. Once I am queen, I think I will have it redone. I can see the stars outside any night I wish. What I’d like to have painted are things I can’t readily see. Perhaps a landscape from each of the five kingdoms Naxos has conquered. Soon to be my kingdoms.
“There,” Hestia proclaims. “Did I do it right?”
I look down at her handiwork. “No. The stitches should be even, and you’ll want to pull them tighter. This will fall apart as soon as you try to put it on.”
She sighs. “All right. Tighter and more even. I can do that. But how do I fix what I’ve already done?”
I grab the needle from her and pull until the thread slips from the eye. I place the point under the last stitch and use it to pull the thread free.
“Repeat,” I say, handing the needle back to her.
Hestia settles back into her seat and concentrates. She’s wearing a gown in a lovely shade of turquoise, which I wore yesterday. I wonder if imitating me in all regards is getting her anywhere at court.
Rhoda, however, is dressed in a bright yellow gown that shows off all her curves to their best effect. She is taking my advice to disregard her mourning period quite well.
Rhoda sits on the other side of Hestia, asking Galen for his opinion on which thread she should use for the flower she’s stitching. He holds several colors out for her to examine, and they discuss the merits of each. I’m still baffled by how much she interacts with her manservant, but I like her enough not to say anything of it. I can be nice to Galen if it’s what Rhoda would want.
But I have to wonder if Rhoda notices the way Galen looks at her. He seems far too distracted by her sudden change in clothing. Or maybe it’s just her.
The door to the sitting room opens suddenly, and a stocking- and wig-clad servant enters, holding a box in his hands.
“What are you doing?” Rhoda demands, standing from her chair. “No men are permitted within this room.” Apparently Galen doesn’t count.
“Forgive me, ladies, but the king sent me. I have something for Lady Stathos.”
“Over here,” I say, my countenance brightening.
“My lady,” the servant says, dipping into a bow before me and holding out the black box.
I take it, the wrapping paper crinkling under my fingers. A bloodred ribbon wraps around the box before ending in a bow on top. The package is fairly light, and the gentlest scent of lavender-mint wafts up from it.
Kallias wrapped it himself.
“Oh, go on, Alessandra,” Hestia says, her voice growing higher. “Open the king’s present!”
I tug at the bow, and it falls away. Carefully, I unfold the paper. Somehow, it seems indelicate to tear it. Once done, I find the front and pull up on the lid, the hinges snapping upward without a sound.
My breath catches.
I have received countless jewels and precious stones from my lovers, but this—
Nestled in black velvet is a necklace unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The rubies have been cut into the shapes of petals, spreading outward into a blooming rose the size of a tightly closed fist. Black steel frames each gem, giving a beautiful border to the petals, allowing each jewel to stand out.
The ladies in the room gasp appropriately.
Rhoda bends over my shoulder to give the trinket a proper look.
“My, my,” she says. “The king must be head over heels for you.” Quieter, she adds, “Well done, Alessandra.”
Hestia is so close, her breath is fogging up the gems. I promptly close the lid and hand the box back to the servant.
“See to it that this is placed within my quarters,” I say.
“Of course.” He goes back out the way he came in.
“What’s he like?” Rhoda wants to know. “The king?”
All the needlework is forgotten as the ladies lean forward in their seats.
“He’s very smart and capable,” I say, thinking of all the meetings and problems he juggles. “And thoughtful.”
“Oh, do give us details!” Hestia says.
Drunk on the attention, I can’t help but give them some details. I tell them of how we eat our desserts first when we dine together. How he compliments me on my new attire. How he smells of lavender and mint. How fond he is of his giant dog. I also tell them falsehoods. I talk of how Kallias kisses my gloved hands in private. How he whispers into my ear of our future. Of a romantic outing under the stars when everyone else is asleep.
I have to really sell the idea of our courtship, after all.
“He’s a romantic,” I finish, loving the way the whole room tries to grasp my every word.
* * *
I RECEIVE A NOTE stating Kallias is unavailable for dinner together due to a late-running meeting. I suspect he is still hard at work attempting to put a stop to the bandit. Rumors are everywhere in the palace. Apparently there was another attack. The nobles are putting pressure on their king.
I sup alone in my rooms, arranging the necklace on the table next to me so I can admire it.
Afterward, a maid helps me out of my dress and into a nightgown. If she thinks anything about the nightgowns I’ve made myself, she says nothing of them.
Tonight I wear a creamy yellow number of silk. The sleeves—or straps, really—dangle off my shoulders, and the gown dips in the front to reveal just a hint of my breasts. Less than a hint, really. A mere line meant not to give too much away, but enough to drive a man mad with wanting to see more.
If only I had someone to show it off to.
I sit on the edge of my bed, my hands behind me, supporting my weight, when he appears.
I jump to my feet before I can stop myself, my heart racing.
Even though I’ve seen him walk through walls before, it doesn’t exactly prepare me. I have a feeling it’s not something I could ever get used to.
I’m proud of myself for not shrieking at least.
I catch sight of the king’s face once he steps farther into the room and realize he’s glaring at me. His fists are clenched tightly at his sides. Despite the late hour, he’s clothed from neck to toe in his day attire.
“I thought you were done peering in on ladies while they were dressing,” I say.
His jaw shakes slightly as he says, “You’re clothed.”
“But I might not have been. If you had knocked first—”
“What the hell have you done?”
I cross my arms. I refuse to cower, king or no. “What’s the matter with you? I’ve done nothing.”