party? The dome would be much lovelier in sunlight.”
“Because Jordan invited everyone for a ball tonight,” Gregor said patiently.
“And then doesn’t even bother to come until the last minute.”
“He’s been in Sweden for the past two months. He returned to London only two days ago.”
Marianna knew that but she did not feel like being reasonable. “I’m surprised he didn’t bring the crown prince with him if he found him so entertaining. Or perhaps it was that crown princess Desiree. Dorothy says she’s very charming.”
“It was the crown prince.” His eyes twinkled. “And I don’t believe even Aphrodite would keep Jordan in that cold country if he didn’t think it necessary.”
“If he doesn’t like the cold, why tell Dorothy he wants a ball in the middle of winter?”
“Why do you think?”
“How do I know what he is thinking? He comes, he goes. He does exactly what he pleases. He has no-”
“I told him your dome was finished. He wished to honor your work.”
She felt the heat in her cheeks as her gaze flew to Gregor’s face. “Truly?”
He nodded. “He has great pride in your work.”
“He never told me,” she whispered.
“Haven’t you noticed he has difficulty talking about anything he feels deeply about? Does he not let you have your way in all things to do with Cambaron?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat of the sudden tightness. He was proud of her. She had pleased him. The thought meant too much, and she had to make light of it. “But he came close to missing this fine ball he’s giving to honor my work.”
“I know you regard it as only a small matter, but he was trying to convince Sweden to repudiate Napoleon and join in the Alliance.”
Then it would probably come to pass, she thought. During the past three years she had caught brief glimpses of a Jordan Draken who was entirely different from the man she had met in Montavia and the man who came so rarely to Cambaron. The brilliant, complex man who hopscotched over Europe and manipulated events to suit himself was an enigma to her. Gregor had told her it had been Jordan who had convinced Napoleon’s trusted General Barvoir to betray the emperor and come over to the Alliance. He had also hinted that the failure of the banks of Lyons that had almost caused France’s economic collapse last year could also be laid at the duke’s door. She suppressed a shiver as she thought of the single-minded obsessiveness that would engineer such destruction.
“Why does he hate Napoleon so much?”
Gregor shrugged. “Many people in England hate Napoleon.”
He was evading her. “Why does he hate him?” she repeated.
Gregor hesitated and then said, “You are right. Jordan’s hatred is entirely personal. He is threatening Jordan’s possessions, and that is not permitted.”
She frowned, puzzled. “Possessions in Kazan?”
“And here at Cambaron.”
“He cares nothing for Cambaron.”
“Because he denies any affection? I thought you saw more clearly than to believe him.”
Who could see deeply into Jordan when he was always armored? “You are saying he lies.”
“I am saying he hates above all things the idea of being chained by affection and so will not admit it even to himself. To Jordan such an admission has always been linked to possession, and he has always regarded that as a danger.”
“Why?”
“What he has is his forever. It becomes a passion, an obsession. Jordan knows he must protect Kazan and Cambaron to the death because his nature will let him do nothing less. Napoleon is a threat that
She did not want him to leave when she was receiving answers to questions that had tantalized her for years. “Gregor, how is-”
He had already left the room. He always walked away either physically or mentally if he did not wish to answer questions. In truth, perhaps he had told her more this time than she wanted to hear.
The picture he had drawn of Jordan’s relentless obsession for protecting his own was chilling. A man who would attempt to topple an empire to bring down one man would not cavil over doing anything to gain his ends.
Gregor had not really told her why Jordan had chosen dead winter for this ball, she remembered with a sense of foreboding, and there had been that odd instant of hesitation in him when she had asked. Gregor may have spoken truth regarding Jordan’s pride in her work, but this ball could also mean something else entirely. She had been growing increasingly uneasy this past year. Events were moving too quickly; everyone knew Napoleon was preparing to attack Russia. The clock may have run out for her, and this ball was the final chiming of their period of tranquillity.
Well, she had known this time would come. She had even prepared for it. She should begin to think of leaving Cambaron.
No, not yet. Perhaps there was no need to hurry. Jordan was evidently having extraordinary success in his attempts to undermine Napoleon, and he might not even need the Jedalar to accomplish his purpose. Her work was going well. Alex was happy here.
She was happy here.
She did not want to leave Gregor and Dorothy. She had grown accustomed to this place. Jordan might not have any sentiment for Cambaron, but to her it was now as much home as the cottage where she had been born.
Besides, the stained-glass dome was an accomplishment she wanted to share. She wanted to see Jordan’s face when he saw what she had given to Cambaron. After the ball, after Jordan came, she would think about leaving.
After Jordan came.
Come upstairs with me, Gregor.” Jordan tossed his hat and riding gloves to a footman and strode toward the steps. “I must dress. If I’m late for this ball, Dorothy will throw me out in the snow.”
“Yes, she will.” Gregor followed him. “And I will help her. The guests are already arriving. You could have come earlier. It’s not kind to-”
“Nebrov is in Poland meeting in secret with Napoleon.”
Gregor stopped on the stairs. “You’re sure?”
“Janus sent me a message in Stockholm.”
“Does he know the content of the meetings?”
“We can guess, can’t we? He wants Napoleon to throw him Montavia and Kazan when he marches on Russia. The question being what prize has he got with which to bargain?”
Gregor started up the stairs again. “You think he’s found another way to get the Jedalar?”
“I don’t know,” he said wearily. “I was told that the only one who knew the Jedalar was the craftsman who created it. I don’t even know how Nebrov found out about its existence. Maybe he knows something else we don’t.”
“Or maybe he’s merely trying to convince Napoleon what a trusted ally he’d be.”
“I told Janus to watch Nebrov and send me word if he learned anything else. I don’t want you to let Alex out of your sight for the next few months.”
Gregor shook his head. “We’ve kept close watch. No stranger has come near Cambaron in the past three years without us knowing about it. Nebrov could not know they are here.”
“I hope not.” He shrugged. “There may be no danger. I just want to be sure we’re not taken by surprise.”
“We won’t be.” Gregor opened the door and strode into the bedchamber. “How was Sweden?”
“Cold.” He took off his riding coat and threw it on the bed. “And successful. Napoleon will find he no longer has an ally in Sweden. Bernadotte will ally with Russia in case of invasion.”
Gregor took his favorite seat in the corner facing the stained-glass window portraying Jordan’s mother. “There’s no doubt of the invasion, it’s only a matter of when, isn’t it?”
