Kallias’s shadows darken. “Not since the last time, no. But we’ve had word of another problem.”
I nod, focusing my attention on my food. I don’t want to ask. I want him to tell me on his own. I want him to confide in me. To trust me.
My patience is rewarded.
“We’ve had delegates arrive from Pegai.” The most recent kingdom Kallias has conquered. “The news they bring isn’t good. There are open acts of rebellion happening right and left. The people kill my soldiers. Start fires in the barracks. Throw rotten food upon my regent when she travels the streets.”
“They oppose your rule?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “They were beaten. I conquered them fair and square. Their taxes are hardly more than what they were before, and my soldiers provide protection for the whole city. The only lawlessness to be found is within the insurgent peasants.”
“So what’s to be done? Public hangings?”
“So far, it’s only been public floggings. The smaller the population, the fewer taxes I receive. I plan to move on to conquering Estetia by next year. The army needs the money.” He looks up from his food suddenly. “This cannot be interesting to you. We don’t need to discuss it.”
“I find it fascinating,” I answer. “But if I may ask, doesn’t flogging a man make it difficult for him to work? How will you obtain your taxes then?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Oftentimes, it is not fear of punishment that prevents wrongdoing.” As I know too well from my history of disobeying my father. “Sometimes working to gain something is better. What do the Pegains want aside from their independence?”
He turns to me. “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps a good place to start would be to give them a voice. Allow them to select someone of their own choosing to be on the regent’s council—if the attacks cease.”
“You would give them more power?” he asks incredulously.
“Of course not. I would give them the illusion of power. Once you know who they’ve chosen and who that person interacts with the most, you’ll have found the ringleaders. And you can put an end to all of them. Crush the entire rebellion underfoot.”
He swallows the bite in his mouth. “Alessandra Stathos, that’s positively despicable.” He says the words like they’re the highest compliment he can give me. “You are an absolute gem, do you know that?”
My whole body warms at the praise.
* * *
THAT EVENING, I make inquiries. First to the viscount, Myron’s brother, Proteus. Then to the owner of the popular gaming hall I know Myron frequents.
These are the first steps to putting my plan into action.
This is not over. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER
10
The dress I’ve selected for tonight is perhaps my most exquisite. For my first outing away from the palace, I want to draw attention. I want everyone to know I’m the one courting the king over six kingdoms.
Even if he’s not in attendance with me.
The gown is silver, the skirt showcasing loose ribbons made to look like waterfalls spilling down the sides. Tiny gems, sapphires and emeralds, are shaped to look like fish jumping from the bundled fabric all along the hemline.
My only accessory is a gray fan, perfect for hiding my features should the play turn out to be dull.
And of course to hide my distaste over Myron.
He has his curls pulled back out of his eyes and secured at the back of his head with a band. His jacket is ebony-colored with gold stitching along the hems, across his shoulders, and down the front. Tight-fitted black dress pants with gold buttons adorn his long legs.
“Your arm, Alessandra,” Myron says as we exit the carriage.
I refrain from clenching my teeth as I place my arm in his.
Rhoda and Hestia accompany us. And though I’ve introduced Myron to both of them as a childhood friend, they keep shooting questioning looks over at him.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me what color you were wearing tonight,” Hestia moans from beside me. “I should have guessed silver!”
“Your pink gown is lovely,” I tell her. “You look like a spring fairy.”
“I need to be wearing what the future queen is wearing.”
I’m too flattered by the assumption to say anything right away.
“At some point,” Rhoda offers, “you really must become your own woman, Hestia. Find your own style. And own it.”
Hestia ignores her.
“I believe that’s enough chatter, ladies,” Myron says. “Come along.”
“We can talk as we walk,” I bite out. He is not allowed to treat my friends this way. Still, Hestia and Rhoda say nothing as we climb up the drive.
The Viscount and Viscountess of Christakos have a lovely estate. Neatly trimmed hedges line the drive. Steps made of marble lead to the front door, and the viscount and his wife are dressed in only the finest silks and satins.
The lady of the estate takes my hand in hers when it is our turn to be greeted. “Lady Stathos! What an honor it is to greet you in my home, but where is His Majesty?” She stares at Myron, as though by squinting she might be able to transform him into Kallias.
“Detained by work, I’m afraid.”
“A pity. Do make yourself comfortable, and I hope you will tell him how you enjoyed our hospitality.”
Myron tightens his grip on my arm.
“Instead, I’m accompanied by my friend Myron Calligaris,” I say awkwardly, “second son of the late viscount.”
“Oh. How do you do?” the viscountess asks politely.
“Quite well considering, my lady. I hope you won’t be too wroth with Alessandra for allowing me to escort her in the king’s absence. She thought the distraction might do me some good.”
The viscountess smiles, but she looks pointedly at the guests behind us, very clearly suggesting that we’ve taken too much of her time.
“Lady Christakos has many more guests to greet. We should be on our way to enjoy the festivities,” I say. Then I start walking, pulling Myron along with me before he can say anything else stupid.
The ballroom has been cleared of everything save cushioned chairs, which are fashioned in a circle around the middle of the floor, which I assume is reserved for the stage.
Our seats are in the front row, because they were selected for royalty.
“Oh, look! It’s the Duke of Demetrio. His daughter is coming out into society early next week. Alessandra, you must introduce me.”
I know about the ball held in the duke’s daughter’s honor. I’ve already accepted an invitation to the event, but I can hardly go over there right now and let Myron make a fool of me yet again.
“The play will start soon,” I argue. “There’s no time.”
Myron answers me with a look. A look that very clearly states what will happen if I don’t do as he bids.
But I try again. “There’s one seat open beside him. You could snag it before anyone else does. Then you’d have the whole play to talk with him.”
Myron thinks it over for only a second before leaving us.
Thank the devils. And I really hope he doesn’t do too much damage on his own.