You're Lying

Before the sun is quite up the next morning—long before the servants should arrive—I let myself into Lowell's rooms.

He hasn't bothered to lock his doors, so I open one door after the next, until I find the bedroom. The setup is completely identical to my room; however, Lowell hasn't gone through any trouble to decorate to his own tastes.

I slide over to the bed on slippered feet and let my gaze take in Lowell sleeping form. So vulnerable. If I wanted to kill him, I could do it now. But what I've done to Lowell is so much sweeter than letting him get off easy with death.

I reach down one gloved hand and flick the end of his nose as hard as I can.

Lowell inhales deeply and sits up in one movement, his eyes widening until he realizes it's me in the room. He rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"If you're here because you've changed your mind about the nature of our relationship, I'm afraid I don't want you anymore," Lowell says after a long yawn. "Now kindly leave so I can go back to sleep."

He settles back into his blankets.

This time I slap him.

That gets his attention.

"What the hell?" he demands. "Need I remind you—"

I hold a paper before his nose. "You're going to leave the palace immediately. As soon as I walk out that door, you will pack up your things and be gone, never to return. I never want to see your face or hear your name again."

"What is this?" He reaches for the note, but I yank it back lest he get any ideas of destroying it.

"This is a debtor contract."

Lowell scrunches his nose in confusion.

"I have purchased all of your debts," I say simply. "From the club. From the men you owe money to. All of it. You now owe me five thousand necos."

His whole body goes perfectly still.

"Nothing to say?" I ask. "Let me make this perfectly clear in case you don't understand. I own you. One misstep from you, and I send you to debtors' prison for inability to pay on your substantial debts. How long do you think it would take your brother to get you out of there? Or—do you think he'd even bother?"

I watch every move of Lowell throat as he swallows, relishing every second of his new misery.

"You will give back any money you've accepted from the nobility, and you will cease to claim any connection to me. If you so much as breathe in a direction I don't like, I'll make sure you never see the outside of a jail cell."

I reach forward and pat his cheek mockingly. "There's a good lad. Now off with you."

"You're lying," he says as I reach for the door to leave.

"Am I? Shouldn't take too long for you to verify for yourself. But don't dally. You have until lunch to be gone."

My smile is radiant as I leave his rooms. I only have control over one man, and yet, the power of it washes over me in intoxicating waves of heat. When I am queen, will I experience it a thousandfold, knowing I will command tens of Thousands?

***

With the thirll of victory still upon me, I go in search of Kassian. It's still early in the day. Surely too early for meetings? After hailing down several servants, I'm finally told the king is breakfasting in the library.

Why didn't he extend me an invitation?

I learn why as soon as a servant admits me into the room.

Kassian is surrounded by correspondences. Amid countless papers and writing utensils, I think I see a bowl with hardboiled eggs, and half a piece of toast lies facedown on a book nearby. A book I suspect he is using as a paperweight.

"Now don't you make being king look grand," I say.

The Shadow King looks up from the letter he is composing. "It is good to see you, Loralie . I feel like it's been ages."

"That's because it has."

He winces slightly. "I hope you can see for yourself that I've had good reasons for my absence." He gestures wildly at the parchment he's drowning in. At the movement, a whirl of shadow follows his arms.

"We have a problem," I say without any more preamble.

"Are you all right?" he asks, looking up and giving me a quick once-over.

"Ivan Vasco came to see me. He questioned whether our courtship is real. He suspects us. My father even showed up at the palace to take me home, because he was so convinced I'd failed to win you."

Kassian finally sets down his pen. "How is that possible?" Then a look of annoyance crosses his face. "Is this because of the time you've been spending with that Calligaris boy?

Dammit, Alessandra, you shouldn't have—"

"It is because of you," I say, daring to cut him off.

He stands and clasps his hands together in front of him, his shadows darkening to midnight tendrils. "I have done nothing but show my interest in you. You sit at my immediate right during meals. I send you gifts."

I wait for him to go on, but I realize he doesn't have anything else to sell his point. "You hardly ever join us for meals anymore. True, you send me gifts, but you never accompany me to events away from the palace. Your neglect of me is showing. Lowell started to take advantage of that, but I have done away with him. You need to do more, especially since we cannot behave as a normal courting couple."

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

"Normal courting couples whisper sweet nothings into the other's ear. They laugh when they are close together, sharing breath. Normal couples can't keep their hands off each other."

"We can't do those things," he says, his words clipped.

"We don't have to do those things. That's not what I'm saying. Devils! Do you want to sell our act of courtship? Then court me, Kassian. Take me on outings away from the palace. Spend time with me outside of mealtimes. Deliver your gifts to me in person. Act like a man who is infatuated."

He watches me for a long moment, considering my words carefully, I hope.

"No," he says slowly. "No." More firmly this time, as though convincing himself. He looks around at the mountain of papers. "I haven't the time for that."

A convenient excuse. What is holding him back?

"I would ask you to join me," he says, "but as you can see, there isn't room at the table. I will see you—when I see you."

He flicks his fingers toward the door, a silent dismissal.

***

I'm fully fucking aware that I look like a child as I stomp back toward my rooms. But no one is around to see, so I indulge myself.

When I hear someone rounding the corner up ahead, I straighten and allow my slippers to tread normally. I do my best to keep my irritation at the intruder at bay. Yes, this is my corridor.

"Two letters for you, my lady," a servant says with a bow, extending a silver platter in my direction. I retrieve the envelopes before disappearing into my room.

The first is from my sister. I stare at her perfect handwriting for a full minute before deciding I should probably read the letter before throwing it into my lit hearth.

Dear Sister,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. Court life holds many temptations, but I trust you are remaining penitent and chaste. The duke and I are having a marvelous time together. His health is declining, sadly, so our days mostly consist of me reading aloud the greatest works of poetry.

I skim over more paragraphs of the terribly dull activities she does with the duke and the various gifts he presents her ("Ten carriages! Whatever will I do with so many?"). And then, in true Jessica fashion, a few lines of importance buried at the end of her letter:

A constable came by the estate today asking what I know about your relationship three years ago with Jason Desano. I thought all the questions odd, of course, but at the very end, the Baron of Drivas demanded to know if I thought you could have had anything to do with his disappearance.

Fear not. While I told them you were a trollop and undoubtedly slept with the man, you would never do something so terrible as help estrange a noble from his family. Such an odd exchange, don't you think?

I do hope you will enjoy the rest of your stay at the palace, and I hope you've made some friends who will influence you for good.

Your loving sister,

Jessica

I stare at my hands for far too long before I realize I've dropped the letter. I don't even know where to begin processing the various levels of my sister's ineptitude and carelessness.

I hadn't known she was aware of my nighttime relationships, and now the baron knows I slept with his son. As well as a constable, who clearly has his backing. How many more interviews do they plan to conduct before coming to question me personally?

And how long will it take before word of my nighttime activities reaches the palace and destroys my relationship with the king for good?

I snatch the letter and tear it into unreadable pieces before thrusting it amid the flames.

I want to yank handfuls of Jessica's hair from her scalp. She's always taken everything from me. But how did she possibly manage to take this, too?

It is only after several minutes of pacing my room that I remember a second letter arrived. Could it possibly be even more bad news? With dread, I break the seal and unfold the parchment.

Dearest Loralie,

Forgive the impertinence, but I can't help but notice how miserable you seem at the events of late. I thought I might do something to cheer you up. I wonder if you might be up for a different kind of entertainment? Would you permit me to take you out for an evening? Shall we say tomorrow night at eight o'clock? I promise you will not regret it.

Your servant,

Kastien Vasco

Perhaps this is just the opportunity I need. I've been meaning to ask Kastien questions about the king. I need more information to make Kassian mine, and what better way to get it than to ask a man who used to be Kassain's best friend?

Not to mention the fact that Kastien adores me. I deserve to be adored for an evening, don't I? Especially when Kassian won't deign to take the time to see me.

After only a little further deliberation, I write back.

Dear Kastien,

I would be delighted to join you.

Sincerely,

Loralie Esther Kensington.