“Nothing. I'm fine.” She sniffed again and pulled her coat tight. “The King has selected me for tonight.”
I cursed. As mentioned, the King's favor wasn't always a good thing. If you were female, being selected for his evening's entertainment usually meant there would be several people in the King's bedchambers, most of whom you'd have to sexually service while the King fucked a man. Nikolay liked to think of himself as bisexual but in reality, he only liked to watch women. And degrade them, though that wasn't reserved for women alone. Usually, he chose one of the women of his court but, occasionally, he'd pick someone new. Alina had performed tonight and caught the interest of the Larch King.
“It's all right, sweetheart.” I put an arm around her shoulders. “Go home. I'll cover for you.”
“No, Misha!” She clutched at my coat. “I saw what he did to you the last time.”
“It was nothing. He tightened the cuffs too much, that is all. You know he's not the sort to beat his lovers.”
“No, but he hurts you in other ways.” She stroked my cheek. “You always protect us, while we do nothing for you.”
“I can take care of myself.” I took her hands and kissed the knuckles. “You don't deserve what he'll do to you. Now, go home. I'll tell him that I got jealous and threatened you.”
“Misha,” she whispered.
“Go, Alina.” I pushed her in the direction of the gate.
“Thank you.” She ran off as if afraid she'd change her mind and insist on staying.
I would have simply insisted longer. It was one thing for Nikolay to take advantage of his court—at least they got to live in comfort and could leave whenever they wished—but to demand such service from a simple woman who had to work hard every day of her life and did not have the option of leaving her home for the safety of another . . . no, that was not acceptable.
“There goes my chance of seducing a tiger,” I muttered as I headed inside.
Not as if I would have followed through with it anyway. It had been a nice fantasy, albeit briefer than I would have liked. But the truth of the matter was the King's Consort couldn't cheat on him. The penalty for such a betrayal was death. Or worse. And no man, not even that sexy tiger, was worth losing my life over. So, I put him out of my mind.
The beauty of Larch Castle had long since ceased to affect me. I strode past the soaring, winged pillars, beneath domes painted with murals of such realistic accuracy that when viewed out of the corner of your eye, they appeared to move. My boots echoed on the intricate mosaic floor, apathetically crossing scenes of swans in flight. It was too much, that was it. When there is too much visual input, your mind goes numb to it.
The sound of merriment tinkling down the corridor ahead felt forced to me, but maybe that was colored by my jaded perception as well. Perhaps there were people living within these beautiful and barbaric halls who truly wanted to be here. Who enjoyed the parties and the pageantry that King Nikolay insisted on. Not to be cruel, but they were probably the less attractive ones. In this court, it was safer to be mediocre.
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and entered the throne room.
Nikolay wasn't on the throne at the end of the room; I wasn't that lucky. Instead, he was standing beside the Kaplan, and they were both staring at me as if someone had announced my arrival. I pretended not to notice their attention and moved toward the wall, skirting the edge of the crowd as I snatched a glass of vodka from a passing waiter. I downed it, set the empty glass on another man's tray, then grabbed a flute of champagne. On an empty stomach it might even get me—what was that human word?—oh, yes, buzzed. I liked the sound of that. It reminded me of bees, and bees always go well with birds, don't they?
“Misha,” the Swan King's voice cracked out like a whip, carrying over the heads of his court to lash at me.
I finished my champagne, set that glass down, and grabbed another on my way to the gallows—I mean, to my king. As I crossed the room, I pasted on an adoring expression. It was even steady by the time I joined him and our guest. After a polite nod at the tiger, I focused with laser beam intensity on Nikolay. I had to be careful; looking too long at another man was a dead giveaway, but so was not looking at all.
“My king.” I inclined my head.
“MyMisha,” Nikolay's voice dropped into bedroom tones as his hand went to my cheek. “Your performance tonight was perfection. Wasn't he wonderful, Lord Konstantin?”
“I've never seen nor heard the like,” the Kaplan said.
I inclined my head to him, risking one quick, hot look before lowering my stare. Dear Gods, he was even more handsome up close. Those high cheekbones balanced his strong jaw. And his eyes—they were chartreuse. Dragon green. Against the bronze of his hair, they became jewels, complemented by the copper highlights. But all that treasure was set in a brutal, almost primal face, making him a strange mix of elegance and savagery.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Mikhail Alexeiovich Vasiliev, meet Konstantin Ivanovich Garin,” Nikolay waved indolently from me to the tiger-shifter.
“Garin? You're of the Guarding Clan,” I said, grabbing the excuse to look at Konstantin again. I tried to make it sound as if I were surprised when I asked, “Then you're here to investigate the murders?”
“Yes, after the third murder, within the royal castle no less, we were required to take over the investigation,” his voice rolled over me like sun-warmed velvet, easing the chill I'd gotten from my walk to the castle. “I'll start questioning the court tomorrow.”
“But for now, he is at his leisure,” the Swan King said. His stare swept over me, going indigo with lust. “As am I.”
As he was always.
“I ran into Alina on my way inside,” I spoke casually, but in a way to make that casualness suspect.
