He stared at Silas Saleri.
“Count Saleri,” Ari said, and if his voice was several shades cooler, the man didn’t flinch. Instead he peered at Ari almost curiously, his beady eyes dark and piercing in the ghostly pallor of his face. This was not a man who spent time in the sun—not enough of it anyway. His skin was the color of old straw, and his hair a sallow near-white, for all that his body remained whipcord tight. The man’s suit was impeccably cut, gold gleamed at his wrist and fingers, and everything about him proclaimed old money.
“It’s good you are back, Aristotle,” Silas said, and his voice sent another shock of urgency through Ari’s brain. That was it, he suddenly realized. He didn’t feel pain at seeing this man; he felt anxiety, apprehension. Like he needed to be on his guard at all times. “Perhaps now you can attend more intelligently to the business of being a crown prince.”
“It will be my honor to do exactly that,” Ari said, bowing to the man.
“Count Matretti!” Kristos’s overloud voice announced the next man in line, and Ari offered Silas a polite nod.
“I’ll look forward to talking to you further inside, Count Saleri,” he said, his voice a little sharper than he intended. “I’m sure we’ll have much to discuss.”
Was it his imagination, or did Silas wince?
Then the family moved on and were replaced by Garronia’s ambassador to the US, a tall, athletic-looking man who greeted them both warmly. But the car pulling up to the red carpet next set Ari’s every sense on edge, and it was all he could do not to bumble Matretti along so that he could peer down at the newcomers.
“Relax, will you?” Kristos asked, though his tone was wry. “Though I’m not one to talk. I’m honestly glad you missed me making a fool out of myself these past few weeks. Not that I could have done it any other way.”
The doors to the SUV swung open, and the drivers helped down the first of the American women—Nicki. Kristos’s chuckle transformed into a strangled cough. “Oh, this oughtta be good. Where’s Stefan?”
“Inside,” Ari said, but he couldn’t keep the humor out of his voice either. He’d never seen Nicki Clark look so utterly feminine and strong at one time—though admittedly, half the time he’d known her she’d been in athletic gear. Now she looked up and waved energetically at him and Kristos as Lauren Grant stepped down.
“Mom is going to hate missing this,” Kristos said, and Ari slid a glance over to the doorway, further up the stairs.
“No she’s not,” he murmured back. “Look alive.”
Queen Catherine Andris stood slightly separate from her husband atop the upper landing, her face lit with satisfaction as she gazed down at the women emerging from the SUV. Her glance took in Lauren and Nicki with a satisfied smirk, then shifted to the car. So it was that Ari’s first impression of Francesca wasn’t with his own eyes—but in the lifted brows and delighted expression of his mother.
He turned around as Kristos breathed out a startled “well,” and focused on the SUV.
“Francesca.”
He nearly spoke the words as a benediction, but he couldn’t help himself. Francesca stepped down on the carpet looking like everything he saw in her every day, but suddenly and fully manifested for everyone else to see as well. She straightened regally in a gown that was absolute perfection. Ari couldn’t pick out the details though, because he couldn’t stop staring at Francesca’s face.
She was stunningly beautiful, and as her gaze lifted to meet his up the red-carpeted stairs, her smile was bright enough to fill his whole world.
19
“Yo, who’s the old guy staring daggers at you?”
Nicki asked the question under her breath, but Fran didn’t need the warning. She’d sensed the hatred rolling down the stairs from the Visitors’ Palace since she’d stepped out of the SUV. “I have no idea,” she muttered.
“He’s not the only one,” Lauren said, drawing up beside her on Fran’s other side. “I’ve counted a half-dozen steely-eyed scowls already. Looks like you’re not terribly popular among the geriatric nobility.” As Fran groaned, Lauren just laughed. “Welcome to being gorgeous, my friend. Keep your chin up and act like you get glared at all the time.”
Nicki giggled and Fran’s tension eased as the three of them strolled up the red carpet. “We could have used some cameras,” Lauren said, looking around. “This feels positively reclusive without the paparazzi here.”
“Well, you know, private party—hey, now. Dimitri’s spied you.”
That seemed to mollify Lauren, and she straightened and stepped regally up the stairs as Fran took an extra moment to gather her skirts. Her dress weighed probably a thousand pounds, but she was pretty sure it could stop a stampede of elephants. Nicki went next, her laughter filling the air as she flung her arms around Kristos and then Ari. “You both look so great!” she gushed, her loud voice drawing more curious onlookers from the castle back out onto the wide receiving porch of the upper landing. Fran glanced to the top of the stairs to see that Stefan had stepped out of the main doorway, and the look he leveled at Nicki was enough to carry Fran for the rest of her days. Fierce and protective and proud all at once.
With her heart full, she reached Kristos and Ari.
Kristos said something—she was sure of it—and she said something back, their voices battering against her mind like rain. But it was Ari that touched her, Ari that drew her hand up to his mouth, his lips a bare brush over her knuckles. Perfectly polite, perfectly formal. But the expression on his face was one of transfixed intensity. His eyes bored into hers as if he was trying to see all the way to her heart, and his grip on her fingers was almost painfully tight.
“Francesca,” he murmured, and in that word there were a thousand other words, all of them rich with promises and possibilities. Beside him Kristos nudged Ari’s elbow and he blinked, as if coming out of a daze. “Thank you so much for coming,” he said, the stilted phrase so awkward that Kristos burst out laughing, clapping his brother on the back.
The additional human contact seemed to be exactly what Ari needed. He straightened and gave Fran an abashed grin, as if he hadn’t just leveled her with a look of total and abject adoration. “Thank you,” he said again. “It seems far too long since I’ve seen you. You’ll have time to talk inside?”
“Of course,” Fran said, nodding to him, then Kristos again. She felt painfully awkward all of the sudden, and she stepped quickly around the brothers as car doors slammed below them indicating the arrival of another limo. But as she moved to gather up her dress, Ari caught her hand again, turning her back to him.
