“Marius?” Javier’s voice cracked again, but this time with command. Marius blanched, then curled his hands into fists and let go a low laugh.
“Beatrice protects me from myself, my prince. I came here to beg her away from your side, rather than agree to the match my mother’s made.” He closed his eyes, his skin grey in the winter shadows. “More fool I, as she told me quite plainly that we were not meant to be. Forgive me, Jav, for my jealousy. Yes,” he added dully. “It seems I’m to be wed. Sacha’s sister, of all people, and by the ides of March, if my mother’s will be done.”
“Sacha’s…? And you…you came here to-?”
“To play the part of the fool. That’s always been my role, hasn’t it, Jav? You the prince, Liza the lover, Sacha the strong right arm. I’m the young one, whose passions and naпvetй rise and fall so quickly as to make you all laugh. I believed you, Javier.” He spoke bitterly, ignoring Akilina’s presence, and Belinda’s stomach clenched again, this time in warning. She lifted a hand to stay Marius, and Javier lifted his to stay her. Fingers curled in reluctant acquiescence, she dropped her hand and watched Akilina from the corner of her eye. Smugness had left the countess as surely as it had filled her, and she cast her gaze from Marius to Javier, angry at losing control of a scenario she had clearly believed she owned.
“I thought you might find us a happy ending from all of this. Tell me, did you ever intend to give her up, or was it a story to make me hold on while you found a way to keep her close to you? I know as well as you do that she’s like no other woman.” Marius’s eyes flickered to Belinda, poison in them instead of lust, then returned to Javier. “She wakens desires I never dreamed I had. I can only hope she has the same effect on you.”
“But you would take her from me whether she does or not?” Softness filled Javier’s voice, more dangerous than cutting words. Marius barked laughter, more derision in the sound than Belinda had imagined he could convey.
“If I could, my prince. If I could. It seems, though, that she’s as much under your spell as any of us. We can’t tell you no, Jav. We never could. And I’m not that much of a fool. A prince is a far better pairing than a merchant’s son. I would have accepted it.” He spoke quietly, eyes hard on Javier. “I would have hated it, but damn you, Jav, I would’ve accepted it if you’d said she was yours, and not thrown a bone. Am I worth so little as that?”
New softness, this time of pain, came into Javier’s answer. “You’re worth far more than I could ever give you. I told you that once, and its truth hasn’t changed. You’re better than I’ve ever deserved, and perhaps I thought… there could be a happy ending.”
“It must be comforting to be a prince,” Marius said with great precision, “for no one will tell you when you lie, even to yourself.”
Javier, never swarthy to begin with, paled visibly. Belinda felt his will flex, injury strengthening his witchpower as he said, “Tell me, Marius, how badly I have lied to myself. Are you and Beatrice lovers?” The air seemed weighted with his question, so heavy that Belinda herself wanted to blurt out an answer, any answer, to appease royal anger. She no more allowed herself to speak than she allowed her hands to curl in fear, or her colour to change as she anticipated Marius’s response.
Marius laughed again, another sharp and ugly sound. “Would it be a relief to you if I said yes, Jav? Would that intimacy be enough to forgive my behavior? Would you then understand my rage and hurt at having her taken from me?” He turned his head, lip curled as if he might spit, then looked back at Javier, stood beneath the weight of Javier’s will, and said, bitterly, “Beatrice and I have never shared physical love.”
Bewilderment edging on disappointment shattered Javier’s expression, even as Belinda held stillness close, refusing her stance a waver. She understood with vicious clarity the fine line Marius walked with his answer, understood his bitterness was not for losing her, or even pointed at Javier, but for what had passed between them in the name of passion. It had not been love. It had been something else, something darker and hungrier, lust and power marked by submission and domination.
She caught, for an instant, a glint of humour in Akilina’s eyes, and knew that the Khazarian dvoryanin understood the game Marius played as well. Among them all, only Javier heard what he wished to hear, and Belinda thought how terribly right Marius was: no one would tell him when he lied, even to himself.
“I don’t understand.” Javier’s whisper came though the busy silence of things unsaid. “I don’t understand, Marius.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it, Jav? Whether you understand or not, Beatrice is yours. I’m a merchant, and you’re a prince. It could never be any other way.” Marius drew himself up, a startling amount of mocking in his sudden grace. He bowed first to Belinda, then to Akilina, murmuring, “Forgive us for airing such unpleasantries in front of you, my lady,” and then turned to his prince. “Duty calls me elsewhere, my lord. I hope you’ll attend my wedding.”
He bowed far more deeply than he had to the women, then stepped past Javier and Akilina to exit the garden bower, never looking back.
AKILINA PANKEJEFF, DVORYANIN
4 January 1588 Lutetia Akilina watches Marius go, then turns to Beatrice Irvine again, finding herself awash with admiration. Beatrice, or Rosa, or whatever her name truly is, is cooler than the winters in Akilina’s homeland. The confrontation with Javier should have destroyed their relationship; instead it seems to have shattered a friendship much older and deeper than anything the young woman could possibly share with the prince. It suggests Sandalia was right not to bring Javier into the attempt to unmask Beatrice’s true identity; if he can be swayed in the sight of one of his oldest friends, then mere words are unlikely to change his mind. It would be wrong to say Akilina is anticipating Beatrice’s downfall with delight, but she would be telling herself false if she didn’t admit to a certain enthusiasm for the project. Not for the hurt that it will bring Javier; despite what they say about her, Akilina takes no particular pleasure in causing others pain. She simply loves both puzzles and secrets, and understands that both have power.
Akilina Pankejeff is very fond of power.
Nearly all the pieces are in place to expose Beatrice. Akilina considers, briefly, sparing the prince his lover’s exposй, but there’s a part of her wedded to drama, if not cruelty. Her search for Viktor’s Rosa has led her to fascinating discoveries; discoveries she has not yet shared with even Sandalia. Javier will regret, too late, being swayed by Beatrice’s spell rather than standing at Marius’s side. He’s fortunate he’s the prince; a lesser man would lose all status at the coup d’йtat that Akilina intends to present. If Javier is wise he’ll accept that he has, indeed, been under a spell, and that Beatrice Irvine is a witch best meant for the burning.
Akilina meets Beatrice’s eyes just briefly, and for a wonder, the young woman neither curtseys nor so much as inclines her head in acknowledgment. Her gaze is steady, cool hazel as she dares, at least for a moment, to hold herself equal to a countess.
Akilina likes this girl.
She’ll like bringing her down even more.
A smile curving her lips, she graces Beatrice with one small nod, an admission of challenge, and then she gathers her skirts and slips away from the garden, eager to deepen the game.
BELINDA PRIMROSE / BEATRICE IRVINE
4 January 1588 Lutetia “You look at me as if you’re no longer certain of me, my lord.” Beatrice kept her voice soft, putting sorrow into it instead of accusation. Javier twitched, the first movement save breathing he’d made since Marius’s departure. He hadn’t so much as watched Akilina go, his gaze fixed wholly on Belinda.
“Marius has never spoken to me so,” he said roughly, when another moment had passed. “How is it that you’ve lain a barrier between us all, Beatrice? Eliza is gone and Sacha will barely speak to me when he’s not searching for her. Marius, my gentle Marius, has become brittle as ice. We four, who have been together since childhood, disrupted by one woman. How have you done this?”
“It was your own power that persuaded them to stay away from the opera.” Belinda spoke carefully, wanting only reminder in the words, not blame. “Perhaps…” She hesitated, not for effect but out of genuine uncertainty,
