My eyes travel across the gallery to where Boyd appears to be observing my brother and me far more closely than is strictly necessary. Case in point.
Later in the day, after I’ve finished up my work, I’m strolling down the main gallery when I see my brother and the American at the top of the stairs, engaged in what appears to be friendly conversation. A little too friendly for my liking.
When they end their conversation, the American heads down the stairs and I wait a moment before catching up to Aleksandr.
“I thought I told you to stay away from him?” I mutter.
Alik jolts in surprise, clearly not expecting my presence. “What? I can’t even be friendly?” He shakes his head in dismay. “You realize I don’t automatically fall into bed with every single guy I talk to, don’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “No, just most of them.”
“Fine. If you’re that concerned about it, I won’t speak to Jai anymore.”
I nod in satisfaction. “Good.”
“So I guess you’ll have to take him on the tour of the East Wing tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?”
Alik gives a one-shouldered shrug. “I promised I’d show him all the paintings there. But seeing as how you don’t want me spending time with him, it’s up to you, brother.”
I blink at him a few times. “I do actually have work to do, you know.”
“Your choice, Luka.”
I should just let my brother proceed with his plans and focus on my work, but for some reason the thought of Aleksandr spending the following day with the American, talking and laughing and—no doubt—flirting, prompts an unpleasant reaction inside me that I can’t quite explain. I just don’t like the idea of it.
The next day, despite my better judgment, I head over to the East Wing to meet the American for his tour of the portrait galleries. When he arrives, he can’t hide his surprise upon seeing me waiting for him instead of my brother. “Prince Aleksandr has been detained,” I lie. “I hope you don’t mind if I take his place?”
He shakes his head. “No, not at all.”
I regret this decision almost instantly. Even just the sound of his voice has an effect on me, and if I’m not careful I’m going to end up in an embarrassing predicament. Another embarrassing predicament, that is.
But, fortunately, the American seems too interested in all the paintings to pay much attention to anything else, and after a little while I begin to relax and surprise myself to find I actually enjoy his company.
“Where’s your shadow?” he asks after we’ve been walking around for a little while.
“My shadow?”
He nods. “Boyd. The Scottish guard. He usually keeps pretty close to you.”
“He doesn’t accompany me everywhere. And today’s his day off.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not planning an attack on me, are you?”
He lets out a soft chuckle. “No, you’re safe.”
We continue with the tour and I can’t help being intrigued by the level of fascination he’s showing. “What made you choose this area of study?”
He startles in his step, as if surprised by the question. I suppose it would be a little unexpected considering the way I’ve been avoiding him recently. “It’s kind of a long story…so, when I was in elementary school my best friend was Joseph Kowalski. He was born in the states, but his parents, his grandmother and his older siblings had come out at the end of the Cold War and they all spoke Polish. His grandma actually spoke no English at all, and his parents were always much more comfortable speaking their native language. The more time I spent there, the more of the language I picked up and I eventually became fluent.” He smiles wistfully at the memory. “Their house was always so warm and inviting. I loved everything about being there, the language, the culture, the food. And it got me interested in learning about other cultures and languages.”
I nod, finding myself unexpectedly interested in his story. “Are you still friends with him? Joseph?”
He shrugs. “We drifted apart when we went to different high schools. We’re on Facebook, though.”
I nod. “So, that’s where you learned Polish. What about your other languages?”
“French and German I learned at school, and then Russian and Ukrainian I picked up at college. My original major was Eastern European Cultural Studies, and it was easier for research to know a few more of the languages. Especially for historical sources. And then once I’d learned Russian and Ukrainian I was able to add a languages major to my degree.”
“That’s quite impressive.”
He offers a wry grin. “No need to sound too surprised.”
7
JAI
I can’t say I blame King Lukas for how he’s been avoiding me the past week. I did walk in on him riding a dildo, after all. And lingered. Of course, he has nothing to be embarrassed about. At all. But I can still see how the situation might be a little awkward, especially for someone as uptight as the king.
So considering all of that—and the fact that he never really seemed to like me in the first place—the fact that he offered to take over this tour when Prince Aleksandr got tied up is both confusing and intriguing. Even more so is the fact we’ve been able to have some actual conversation while he’s been showing me the paintings. It’s beyond obvious history’s not his favorite subject, but he’s still quite knowledgeable, if not entirely enthusiastic.
We’re strolling down what is known as the Queens’ Gallery when I spot a beautiful tapestry that tugs on a memory. It takes a moment for me to place it, but when I do I’m practically bouncing on the balls of my feet with excitement.
“Has this tapestry always been here?” I ask the king. “It hasn’t been moved from somewhere else?”
He shakes his head, his brows drawn together in confusion. “No, I don’t believe so. This is its original position.”
With a little squeak of anticipation, I approach the tapestry and pull the corner aside.
“What are
