“Men like him?”
“Brutes.” He grimaced. “Intelligent brutes are even worse. They feel superior on two counts—body and mind.”
“Yes, I'm sure you're right,” I reverted to my usual sycophantic ways. It came naturally but lately, it left me feeling dried up inside. As if every word that left my lips sucked the life from me.
A knock came at the door. “Dinner is served, Your Majesty.”
“Very good!” he called back as he stood. He held a hand out to me. “Join me.”
This time it wasn't a request.
I took Niko's hand, and we walked out into the hallway together. The scent of grilled steak and fresh bread wafted to us from the open door of the King's private dining room. He took the lead but continued to hold my hand, drawing me into the wood-paneled room after him. There were no windows for the cold to permeate and with the fire lit in the small fireplace to the right, the dining room was toasty. Hand-carved trees served as table legs for the ten-seater, their branches spread artistically, and the crystal chandelier above—in the shape of a boat—had been imported from France. This was where the King took most of his meals so no expense had been spared to decorate it. From the coffered ceiling to the hand-crafted silverware, everything in the room was the best that money could buy.
Everything except Konstantin.
I stopped short when I saw him. Kon stood up and inclined his head to the King but didn't look at me.
“Oh, Misha, I should have warned you,” Niko said as he led me to the seat across from Konstantin's at the end of the table. “Honestly, I forgot that I invited our friend to dinner tonight.”
Yeah, my swan-white ass, he forgot.
“It's quite all right.” I sat down, and as Niko was taking the throne at the head of the table, I lifted my gaze to find Kon staring at me with an apology in his eyes. I nodded subtly to him.
Konstantin shot me a fast grin before replacing it with a blank expression for the King. “Thank you for inviting me, Your Majesty.”
“My pleasure.” Niko waved a waiter forward, and he brought a platter of thinly sliced steak over.
After serving the King the best slices, the waiter brought the platter to Konstantin, but only held the dish out for him to serve himself. Kon took a hefty portion of meat while another waiter stepped up to Niko with a vegetable dish. Three dishes circulated in that manner—Niko, Kon, then me—while wine and water were poured. A selection of bread was already on the table.
The King waited until the waiters had left before he spoke, “Misha tells me that you had an argument. What was it about?”
Konstantin's head jerked up, his stare going first to me, then to Niko. “That was a private matter.”
Oh, Sweet Lachia, protect us.
“I insist,” Niko's tone dropped into a chilling zone. “He is my consort, after all. I deserve to know what has upset him.”
“Then that information should come from him.”
“I didn't want to force him to speak about something that has so obviously hurt him.”
“Go on,” I said sharply to Kon as I widened my eyes slightly. “Tell him what you said about him.”
“Aboutme?” Nikolay sat back and cocked his head at Konstantin. “Was it terrible?” He grinned as if he were looking forward to hearing some juicy gossip. “Am I a monster, Garin?”
Almost imperceptibly, I nodded at Kon. In this case, the truth would serve us best. Niko couldn't hurt Konstantin for his opinion, and I would look loyal for defending my king. It would also serve to allay Niko's suspicions about my relationship with Konstantin.
“Very well.” Konstantin sighed dramatically and met the King's stare. “Yes, I think you behaved monstrously toward Mikhail.”
Niko's eyes widened. I don't think he actually expected Konstantin to accuse him of anything. “In what way?”
“Mikhail said that you saved his life. His village was attacked by humans. You were too late to save his family or anyone else, for that matter, but you found him hiding under the floor of his home and brought him back here. He said that you raised him as your own.”
Niko shrugged. “I was his guardian. He had nannies and tutors and such, but yes, he was my ward. So?”
“And then you made him your lover—a boy you had raised like a son—when he was only sixteen years old.”
My jaw clenched.
