I went into the castle and straight to my room as Kon had suggested. The weapon went into the drawer of my bedside table and the cellphone under my pillow. I didn't bother with a shower; I didn't want to be caught in such a vulnerable state. Instead, I sat on my bed, fully dressed, and stared at the door. When the knock came, my heart sank, but I got to my feet and answered.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Swan King sat before his grand fireplace, brandy snifter in hand, clad in pajama bottoms and a velvet robe. The robe hung open, allowing the fire to paint the smooth curves of his muscles gold. His legs were bent and sprawled but no one was between them. It was just the two of us.
Oh, fuck.
“You summoned me, my king?” I went to stand before him.
“Misha,” Niko slurred and waved his glass at me. “Have a drink with me, my sweet Misha.”
“Okay.” I went to the sideboard and poured a small measure of cognac, then returned to him.
“Sit down.” He smacked the couch beside him.
I sat down.
Nikolay sighed deeply and swung his head to look at me. “Where have you been all day? I've missed you.”
“I was rehearsing.”
“Not investigating?”
“No, I . . . I just assist the Garin. I don't do the actual investigating.”
“No?” He straightened and cupped my cheek, nearly slapping it with his loose movement. “You are so pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“No, I mean it, Misha. You are . . . you have always been like an angel to me. So beautiful.”
“Niko, are you all right?”
“Me?” He lurched back, spilling a little of his drink. “I'm the King. The fucking Larch King! I'm wonderful. Better even than that.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
His face went loose as he fell back against the couch and stared into the fire. “Have I ever told you about my father?”
I went still. His father. The usurper.
“No, Sire.”
“He was a powerful man,” Niko's voice dripped venom. “A warrior. If he saw the way I lived now, he'd be ashamed of me. I can still hear his voice in my head.” He grimaced and smacked his temple repeatedly. “Still hear his condemnation.”
“Niko.” I laid my hand on his thigh.
Nikolay's head flopped my way again, the couch supporting his cheek. “Do you pity me, Misha? Is that what you feel for me now?”
“No, Your Majesty.” I removed my hand. “There is nothing to pity. I was simply commiserating with you. We both lost our fathers.”
His face twitched. “Yes, both of our fathers were murdered.”
“Killed, you mean. Mine was killed in an attack and yours in an accident.”
“Yes, killed. That's what I meant.” He looked away. “I hated him.”
“Who?”
