Rhouben straightens so quickly I hear his back crack. “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“What do you need? Name it and it’s yours.” He can barely get the words out fast enough.
Leandros and Petros pause the game to listen.
“First, I need you to answer a few questions, if you would?”
“Of course!”
“What does Melita want more than anything else?”
“To marry a rich and handsome man with a higher title than her father, a baron.”
“That’s why she snagged you at the first opportunity,” I realize. “And why she bats her eyelashes at Orrin. He has a better title than you.”
“And he’s far more handsome,” Petros puts in unhelpfully.
Rhouben reaches over and smacks him.
“Why would your father allow you to marry beneath you?” I ask, curious.
“He’s friends with the baron. They’ve talked of uniting their families since before I was born.” The words come out as a grumble.
“Well, we’re prepared to stop that. All we need is to arrange for Orrin and Melita to get together,” I say.
“How are you going to manage that?” Leandros asks. “Eliades is smitten with you, and I hardly see how that is going to rid you of—Myron, was it?”
“Yes, for that bit, I’m going to need some money.”
Rhouben leans his billiards stick against the nearest wall. “You can really get rid of Melita without getting me disinherited?”
I nod.
“How much money do you need?”
Without blinking, I say, “Five thousand necos.”
Petros whistles. “That’s more than my father makes in a year.”
“But not Rhouben’s father?” I ask.
Rhouben doesn’t need to think twice about it. “I’ll get you the money. Just tell me what else you’ll need.”
“Invite your father to the palace. I don’t care how, just get him here. And in the meantime, you need to play the perfect fiancé, so no one will suspect anything.”
Petros turns to his friend. “In that case, he’s doomed.”
* * *
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Kallias sends me a bracelet strung with black pearls and black diamonds, a truly impressive design considering Naxos is nowhere near the sea. On Wednesday, I receive an ivory comb studded with blue diamonds, meant to be worn in an elaborate updo. Friday, I’m brought emeralds cut into the shapes of leaves, strung around a necklace band that ends in a large topaz.
Each gift is presented to me when I’m surrounded by people. Knowing that these presents are for their benefit, not mine, has a sharp bitterness taking root in me every time another one is delivered in a gloved servant’s hand.
The king is supposed to be in love with me. He’s supposed to give me gifts because he’s smitten with me.
Not because he’s making poor attempts to convince others of our ruse.
He’s making this impossible.
* * *
A SERVANT FINDS ME the day of the Demetrio ball, a letter in hand. I break the bright red wax seal and read:
My dearest Alessandra,
I hope you will forgive my boldness, but word has reached me that the king did not accompany you to your latest outing at the estate of the Christakoses. In fact, it’s rumored you spent the evening with a childhood friend. This has dared me to hope that perhaps you’ve ended things with His Majesty.
You, of course, know of my business travels—
I skip to the bottom to find the signature. It’s from Orrin. I didn’t even notice he was gone from the palace—
They’ve kept me from your side for far too long, but I think of you daily. I miss your conversation, your smile, the way you look away from me when you’re overcome by my generosity.
When I look at the night sky, I cease to see its beauty. All I can think of is you. Your sable hair and how I long to run my fingers through its lengths. Your lips, ripe as cherries—
The descriptions of my distinct body parts go on for five more paragraphs. I skip to the bottom.
Please write me and tell me you have missed me as much as I have missed you.
Your humble servant,
Orrin Galopas, Earl of Eliades
Dear gods. The man is completely delusional. I look up from the letter and startle to find the servant who delivered it still waiting just outside the doorway to my rooms.
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but my lord hoped you might send a reply back with me.”
I want to unleash my fury on Orrin’s servant. Instead, I clear my head enough to think reasonably. “How long will Lord Eliades be away from the palace?”
“I should expect another week at least, my lady.”
“Good.” I start to shut the door, and the servant coughs.
“Oh, there will be no reply for the earl.” And I slam the door the rest of the way.
This letter is an opportunity. A way to complete the rest of our plans.
* * *
A SHORT LINE EXTENDS down the driveway, but Myron, Hestia, Rhoda, and I don’t wait long before we’re greeted by the duke and duchess.
After introductions are made, the duke lifts his eyes over my shoulder. “The king is not with you?”
“Kallias so wished to come,” I say, daring to use the king’s first name in front of the duke. I need to show intimacy between us since Kallias isn’t actually here. “Alas, he’s hard at work protecting our kingdom.”
“I’m here to escort Lady Stathos,” Myron says, stepping somewhat in front of me.
The duke’s eyes widen as he recognizes Myron from the play. Demetrio glances back at me. “You know this gentleman?”
I can tell from the tone of his voice what he means. You willingly associate with this man?
Myron is ruining me. One outing at a time. He elbows me in the ribs.
“Myron is a childhood friend.” The words physically pain me to say them. “He’s … quite charming.”
“Oh,” the duke says. “Well, do enjoy the ball.”
I can tell Myron wishes to stay and talk with the duke longer, but this time it is Rhoda who ushers us along inside.
I momentarily lose my ire once I catch sight of the ballroom. The duke and duchess refer to their young daughter as their shooting star, a reference, I’m told, to her prodigious talent at playing the pianoforte. The decorations have been done to match the endearment. Candles are placed within holders with holes cut in the shape of stars, the designs magnifying and showing on the ceiling and walls. Bundles of flowers in yellows and blues cover every surface in the grand estate, the flowers trailing in the shape of the fading light that appears behind a shooting star. And the young lady’s gown rivals my own with diamonds sewn into it every few inches. A long train follows her for ten feet everywhere she goes, making it hard to miss her in the crowd since the partygoers have to mind the chiffon sweeping the floor.
As soon as Hestia, Rhoda, and I take in the sights, my two friends are quickly whisked away by men to the dance floor.
“He’s quite charming?” Myron repeats when we are alone. “You were supposed to extol my virtues to the duke.”