The wind whistled against a windowpane on my right. Heavy drapes had been pulled shut over the alcove, but an inch gaped between them. I went to that crack and slipped through it, into the nook of the window—a recess wide and deep enough that it had been partially filled by a built-in bench. The mullioned window looked out from the back of the castle and, as I was on the second floor, was set high enough to see over the walls and down to the woods. Off to the left, at the base of the hill the Larch Castle perched upon, Grigorenia, the capital city of the Larch Kingdom, sprawled. Though calling it a city was being generous. It was more of a village. The homes there were nicer than those in other Larch towns of Russia, thanks to the generosity of the King, but there were fewer of them here, only enough to house the castle staff and those who performed the tasks necessary to a functioning community. In other words, the village was there for the comfort of the King. As we all were.
Winters may get harsh in Russia, but I preferred them to the other seasons. Especially summer. Flowers always made me sad. But today, the cold seeping through the glass went deeper. It didn't numb as usual but instead bit and burned. Although it was nearly 8 AM, the sun was just starting to rise, creeping over the treetops like a wounded warrior crawling off a battlefield. Bleeding across the sky. Below, the frigid world rejected the color until it was forced to wake up. Forced to accept that another day had come. As short as that winter day would be, I had a feeling that it wouldn't end soon enough for me.
I left the alcove and told myself to accept the day just like the rest of the world. As I neared the dining hall, the landscapes on the walls changed to portraits of the Royal Family. Raven-haired swans; there was something poetic in that. And they were beautiful, those stern Lebedevs who stared at me as I strode by. The portraits, though many, were only of three people—Nikolay's parents and himself. Most immortals don't have many children, and Nikolay wasn't inclined to even make an effort. Since it was possible for him to rule forever, I suppose it didn't feel urgent to him. But his parents had proved just how important it was to have an heir when they had died in a tragic and ironic plane crash. Swan-shifters dying from a failed flight. The Gods who the Lebedevs had scorned must have laughed that day.
As I entered the dining hall, I contemplated how Nikolay was the last of his line. Maybe he would have made an effort to have an heir if he wasn't so inclined toward men or so disinclined toward artificial insemination, but Nikolay Lebedev didn't do anything he didn't want to do.
“How wonderful that must be,” I murmured to myself as I took a plate from the end of the buffet table and started filling it.
Most of the court was still abed. Why rise when the sun wasn't even up? But there was food out for us early birds, and I wasn't alone in the room. We were a partially working court, which meant that many of the nobles had jobs to do and preferred to keep regular hours. It was those people who greeted me as I walked past, on my way to my consort seat.
The King's throne was empty, he normally took his meals in his private dining room, but a setting had been laid for him just in case. Of course, if Nikolay had decided to join us, he wouldn't be serving himself from the buffet.
I took my seat beside his empty one. Most of the nearby chairs—those reserved for the King's favorites—were empty as well, but I wasn't alone at that end of the table, as I usually was in the morning. Konstantin Garin sat across from me, right where he had the night before. He had a mountain of food on a plate before him and a mug of coffee instead of a teacup. His vivid stare latched onto me as I sat down, but I only glanced at him, getting a mere flash of summer green to warm me.
And it did. I flushed as I remembered the night before. The things Niko had made me do for Konstantin. The way I had exposed myself to this stranger. The passion that had ignited between us. That fucking kiss.
“Good morning,” Konstantin's voice rumbled over me, roughened as if it was those words were the first he'd spoken that day.
“Good morning.” I started to eat.
Don't look at him. It will only lead to pain. To betrayal. Don't look.
“You're not even going to look at me?”
Oh, fuck.
I lifted my stare. How could any man be that handsome? His hair so vibrant, with tones of wildfire. His eyes sultry and fierce. His lips firm but also inviting. Things tightened between my legs.
Should I tell him what Niko had said? Warn him that the King was up to something? Wasn't that a betrayal of my king just as much as pursuing this man was? No, I couldn't. If for no other reason than Nikolay might find out. We could be overheard, especially in such a public place.
“I will start interviewing people today,” he said.
I blinked. My thoughts were so far from his investigation that it took me a second to process what he was saying. I continued to stare at him as he spoke about the process, then my jaw loosened. He shoved food into his mouth between sentences, looking at me as if I were a common dining companion for him. As if he hadn't seen every inch of my body the night before. And stuck his tongue in my mouth.
As if my lover hadn't offered me to him like a war prize.
I snapped my jaw shut and looked back at my food. I don't know why I'd thought this man was different. Maybe because he'd told me so? Because he had seemed kind? But so had Niko at first. He'd been kind, so gentle, so loving to me for so long. Then his love had revealed its true nature, and I'd come to dread his kindness. I suppose I should be grateful that this Garin revealed his truth to me so soon.
The good news was that I didn't have to worry about betraying my king. My desire for the Kaplan had been doused by the man himself. Put out by indifference. He wasn't a savior; he was a man like any other. Here for a job and maybe to collect a perk. Knowing that made it easier to withhold the truth from him—that he would never have me. That I may be paraded before him until he frothed at the mouth, but he'd lost his one chance of being inside me last night.
That thought sent a jolt of ice through me.
I recalled again how Nikolay had sworn he wouldn't give me to the Garin. That his cock would be the only one I'd ever feel. But he had made those declarations just minutes after he'd offered me to Konstantin. Offered him three thrusts like I was a car to be test-driven. If he was so damn possessive of me, if he cared so much about being the only man to get inside me, why had he made that offer?
“Lord Mikhail?”
“I'm sorry?” I looked up.
“Are you all right?”
“No, actually, I'm not. I've suddenly lost my appetite. Please, excuse me.” I pushed away from the table, inclined my head politely to him, and strode out of the room.
It looked as if I'd be dining in my chambers after all.
Chapter Seven
The Garin didn't summon me for an interview that day, lending credence to my conclusion that I meant nothing to him. It had been one day. One dance. One kiss. Of course, I meant nothing to him. I was angry with myself for thinking otherwise. Normally, I'm a very rational man. A prudent person. I saw things as they were, without a tasty sugar coating. No dreams. No hopes. No romance. But Konstantin Garin had disrupted my status quo. I was just as angry with him as I was with myself.
