After a moment, he lifted one eyebrow, baiting her.
“I will have you flogged for your impertinence,” she spat at him.
He scoffed. “As though that were in your power to do… my lady.”
All the courtesans that belonged to the king, regardless of how long they had been at court, a thousand years or one, were given the title Lady. The designation, much like the title consort, was overused, which is why Varic was adamant about changing that for me, to give me that distinction. There had to be a way to denote Chione’s status too, as Alrek’s mother. But then again, perhaps the insult was the point.
“I will outlast you, Gideon,” Chione choked out, her voice thread thin with seething hatred. “I’ll dance on your crypt in the hypogeum.”
His snort was horrifically, painfully unkind, and spoke to how beneath him he felt the courtesan—even the king’s first—was. I had to glance away, and it was then I noticed Solveig. Her face was tightened in frustration, wanting, I could tell, to speak, from the way her lips parted and then quickly closed. But she didn’t dare utter a word and was doing her best, it appeared from her narrowed eyes and clenched jaw, not to cry. As for Alrek, if he clenched his jaw any tighter, I was certain it would shatter.
The hand on my back returned my attention to Gideon.
“When you need more water,” he said, turning to indicate a man standing off to the side of us with an ornate glass pitcher in one hand and what looked like a cloth napkin draped over his opposite forearm, “let the servant know.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking a few more long drinks.
“Gideon, I—”
He lifted his hand to stop Chione from saying another word, and I had to wonder where she fell in the court hierarchy, and where he did. She was a beloved, desired courtesan. He was, I’d been told, the rajan of the king. I knew what Tiago did—or thought I did—and so wondered about Gideon’s place. If Varic had taken a courtesan, would Tiago be able to treat her, or him, the way Gideon was treating Chione?
I was already getting used to having my preconceived ideas shattered. First the king had been a surprise, and now Gideon. And just as I’d thought the king would look older, I had expected Gideon would as well. That wasn’t the case.
If I had to guess, if I saw him on the street, I would have put Gideon around his mid-forties, with black hair buzzed to his scalp and a powerful frame evident even under the long black soutane coat trimmed in gold brocade he wore instead of a suit jacket. His eyes were a striking rich mahogany, with what appeared to be traces of crimson in them, but that had to be a trick of the light from the enormous Phantom of the Opera chandelier that hung prominently in the middle of the cavernous room. When he smiled, I saw the coiled menace even under his smooth veneer of civility.
“Lady,” he said the word again in the same indulgent, sneering tone as he’d used the first time, “I have kept the king from your bed, and almost entirely from your sight, for seven years now.” He exhaled as though the entire conversation was beneath him. “And tonight, three new courtiers walk among us.”
If looks could kill, and all that. I could actually taste her hatred; that was how thick it hung in the air.
“Ah, look here,” he directed us. “Even now, my steward introduces them.”
I looked to where Varic was standing with his father, and there were three people there bowing in front of them, two men and one woman, all Hollywood movie star beautiful, especially the golden-haired, golden-skinned, golden-eyed man who looked like an angel.
There was a question on the tip of my tongue, but it was rude to ask.
“Yes, my consort,” Gideon said, leaning in close to me, his voice a whisper in my ear, “the king takes both women and men to his bed.”
I turned to him, and he was still close, so we were almost nose to nose. “No one told me,” I said, watching as he inhaled through his nose.
He stayed where he was, holding my gaze for only a moment before he eased back, still staring, studying my face. “The Noreia see only beauty and that which they desire,” he explained, watching me before turning his head. “Ah, look, Lady,” he apprised Chione, “as anticipated, the king claims another for his bedchamber.”
The angel now stood beside the king, arm in arm, as the other two bowed before being led away by the steward to a group standing close, clearly eager by the craning necks and outstretched hands, to meet them.
“His name is Dureau Bazin,” he told me. “I suspect I will be asked to––oh, excuse me.”
The king had turned his head, looking for Gideon, spotted him, and gestured. Gideon left me, his hand grazing my shoulder before he crossed the floor, walking, as the queen had, in a straight line. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, making it clear that it was up to others to get out of his way, and not his to walk around them.
Reaching the king, he smiled, didn’t bow I noticed, and the king smiled, took hold of Gideon’s bicep, and then turned to Dureau, who bowed deeply to the rajan.
“Vile man,” Chione muttered, her voice choked with unshed tears.
I didn’t say anything, and instead drained the last of the water from my glass and then glanced over at the servant.
“More water, my consort?” he asked, rushing to my side.
“No, but could I give you this?” I asked, holding the empty goblet out to him.
“Of course,” he said quickly, taking it from me.
“Thank you.”
He looked startled, and I smiled at him before he left. I meant to leave the three people who didn’t like me and turned to go, but there was suddenly a pixie in front of me, complete with the haircut, grinning wide, offering me her hand.
“Hi,” I greeted her, taking the tiny hand in mine.
“I’m Nerilla,” she announced cheerfully, and between her wide smile, her deep dimples, the firm clutch of her hand, and the warmth in her big brown eyes, I was a goner. So much for being jaded. “And I’m so thrilled to meet you.”
This was Cassius’ widow? Again, not what I was expecting.
“Nerilla,” Alrek said, “I—”
“No,” she replied, and waved her hand at the three of them, “leave us.”
“You—”
She stepped sideways to face him. “Hear me,” she began softly but firmly, her voice lowered, reaching only them. “I know well that you and your mother campaigned to woo my affection in hopes that marrying me would give you increased legitimacy. Failing that, you looked for others to impress the king,” she said dryly, eyebrows lifting, making a face as she looked at Solveig, all teeth, like yikes. “And you’ve found a bride with a pedigree, so I’m sure the king will give a nod in passing.”
Chione opened her mouth to say something.
“Oh, do just go.” She snapped out the order, clearly done, sighing deeply before turning her back on them and slipping her arm into mine. “I have much to discuss with my new brother.”
I put my hand over hers in the crook of my elbow, keeping an eye on the three as they moved off into the crowd.
“I hope you don’t think I overstepped,” she said, gazing up at me with her glittering sienna eyes. “But it’s taken Varic so long to find a mate, I had nearly given up.”