Chapter Eight
Ivo rubbed at his eyes. He felt as if he hadn’t slept a wink after Vitki left. That was probably because he hadn’t. Well, at least not much. He kept waking up. He wasn’t sure if that was due to being in a new, unknown place, the weird noises he kept hearing all night long, or the fact that his heart was broken and shattered on the floor.
No matter how attracted he might be, Vitki had made his desires more than clear to Ivo. And no matter how Ivo looked at it, Vitki didn’t want him. He might find Ivo attractive, but he didn’t want to find him attractive. Except to keep him alive, Vitki really wanted nothing to do with Ivo.
As he sat there and listened to some woman—he was pretty sure her name was Samara or something like that—go on and on about what his duty to the clan meant, Ivo wondered how long it would be until he could abdicate his throne and go back to his two-bedroom apartment in New York City.
He wanted none of this, not even Max’s money. Oh sure, it had been fun to fantasize for a while, but the reality of his situation had turned into the stuff of his nightmares this morning when no less than five servants had arrived to prepare him for his day. It had taken some quick talking on his part to get them to leave him alone to bathe on his own.
He was starting to get an idea of what his father had gone through. Granted, he wasn’t thinking of leaving because he wanted to marry someone of a different class. He was leaving because the someone of a different class that he wanted to be with wanted nothing to do with him other than what duty demanded.
Even now, Ivo could see Vitki standing off to one side of him, ever present and vigilant in his duty to protect the future king.
“Your highness, our laws and traditions are very important. I must insist that you listen to me explain them to you. It’s important that you know them.”
“You mean your interpretation of them.”
The woman was beautiful with her long, flowing black hair and pert little nose. The confused wrinkle between her eyebrows, not so much. “I’m sorry, your highness, I do not understand.”
“Well, unless I am seeing them written down somewhere in some law book, I am only getting your interpretation of the laws, how you see them.”
Ivo waved his hand to a young man standing not too far from Samara. He was dressed a lot less fashionably than the elder. She wore an elegant calf-length dress that looked as if it cost what Ivo had made in a month back home. The man standing next to her was dressed with care, but Ivo could tell just by looking he was not an elder. “He knows the laws, but I’ll bet he could give me a whole other interpretation of them.”
“He is merely a servant, sire.”
Ivo was damn proud of himself. He did not roll his eyes. “Working class?”
“Why, yes, sire.”
“Good, since I come from a working-class background, he can tell me what I need to know. What is your name?” Ivo asked the servant.
“Uh, Stas, sire.”
“Fantastic. And what do you do here, Stas?”
“My family has served the royal household for over twelve generations.”
“You don’t say.”
Stas frowned. “I do say, sire.”
Ivo smiled. “That’s just a say—you know what, never mind.” He so did not want to explain American slang terms right now. “Stas, I’m giving you a promotion. You’re now my personal adviser.”
Ivo knew his words would rock the boat. He didn’t expect them to start a yelling match. It was like verbal Armageddon. Everyone started shouting, growing louder and louder, until Ivo felt as if his ears were going to shatter.
They wanted to act like children? Fine. They could play in the sandbox without him. Ivo got up and started marching toward the door.
“Sire,” Samara called out. “You can’t leave.”
“Watch me.”
“Ivo!” Vitki shouted as he tried to make his way across the floor through the throng of people. “Don’t you dare leave this room.”
Ivo flipped Vitki the bird and just kept walking. Getting out of the room seemed relatively easy. It was figuring out where to go from there that caused Ivo to pause. He had no idea where he was or how to get back to his room.
“Can I be of assistance, sire?”
Ivo turned to find Stas standing behind him. “Stas, good. Yes, I’m trying to get back to my room, but I’m afraid I’m a bit lost.”
