Serpent and the Throne (Fedosian Wars #1)

9. Compliments of Her Majesty

nine

Compliments of Her Majesty

The ball dragged on and on, midnight passed, and even the archmage showed up with a handful of his acolytes, the whole court flocking to the gold peacock, but no sign of the monarch, and Sofia began to wonder if the queen was mad and tied to her bed while the sentinels ran the castle. And what of the prince? People rarely saw him, she was told. Even regular courtiers like Lev hadn’t seen the heir apparent in years.

The wooden heels on Sofia’s fashionable slippers hurt her feet. She’d sit down but all the chairs were taken. Not so courteous, lords didn’t get up for her. Well, she hadn’t asked, either.

She roamed around the castle, being sure to stay on the white and gilded side this time. Should she run into watchmen again, Aleksei wouldn’t come for her. When she made the plan to tell him off, she’d played the scene out in her head and imagined he would be surprised at how crafty she was. Then she was supposed to strut away from him, having rescued her dignity. But that was not what happened, and it hurt her that he got so upset.

Why did that matter though? He was no one to her.

She’d learned to keep her expectations low as a way of dealing with disappointments, but in all her years she’d dealt only with her own tribulation and had never made anyone else feel… the way he reacted. It felt terrible, to be honest, and she didn’t know how to remedy that.

Listening to the orchestra play a tragic folk song of lovers who’d taken their own lives, the tempo slowed for ballroom, Sofia sat on white marble stairs with red and gold carpeting and rubbed her sore feet. Well, her whole body was sore from… him.

She lay on the stairs and closed her eyes, but the music and laughter were loud enough to sway the grand chandelier, so she got up and climbed the stairs looking for a quieter place to get a few moments of shuteye. The potion had been some type of sedative, and she’d been dragging her heels for hours. Why did people drink these things? Get inebriated like Lev?

She wandered into what she thought had been the tsar’s theater. Though much of it was red, the color of Shields, the gold embellishment was spectacular, and the statues and the stacked wingback chairs with gilded crest were no doubt in the style of Guard lavishness. The mahogany floor was creaky and faded. The space hadn’t been used or maintained in decades.

Aleksei was on one of the chairs facing the empty stage. Twirling the gold circle in his hand, he’d been staring blankly and hadn’t noticed Sofia enter till a floorboard squeaked and the scarlet gaze found her. Without a word, he looked away and continued to fidget with the gold.

Sofia sat down on a settee along the wall, only a few feet away from him. She let the silence stretch for as long as she could stand it, then asked, “Are you all right?”

“Are you lost, Lady Sofia?”

“Aleksei, can we talk?” she whispered, stuffing her hands between her legs, and looking down. She felt uneasy, sick really, from the tension.

“That’s going to cost you more and you’re already short,” he said.

“What?” She looked up at him. His eyes were on the stage and not her.

“The gold is three ounces, not five. Your alchemy is off,” he said, holding up the trinket. “And you’re short four.”

“That’s ludicrous,” she blurted out about the price.

“Don’t worry about it.” He got up, came over, and dropped the gold on her lap. “It’s on the house, compliments of Her Majesty to the White Guard of Fedosia.”

She grabbed his hand and he stood in front of her, turned to the side but not leaving, and she understood what he wanted—an apology.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry,” she said.

“I told you I thought of you every day for a decade, and you gave that bullshit for my troubles,” he said. “And you didn’t think that would be upsetting?”

“I thought you just said things like that,” she confessed.

“For money?” He turned to her. “Fuck you, and your family.” He yanked his hand back and strode for the door.

“Aleksei!” She chased after him. “Aleksei!” She pulled his shirt and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face onto his chest. “I’m sorry.” And in that moment, she understood she didn’t care about Darina. She’d hardly known her. Whatever he did, she wanted him and couldn’t stand him angry with her. She was a sad, sad woman with a sad, sad life, she’d accept that. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His hands had been at his sides, but one glided up her back. “Please don’t talk to me like that again.”

“I’m sorry.”

He hugged her and picked her up, her feet leaving the floor. “Fuck,” he breathed, “I was about to have the worst day of my life, and it’s a tough competition to be honest.” He kissed her crown. “Your hair smells nice.”

“It’s rosewater.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. This was better. She was so relieved she could cry. “Can I ask you something and you won’t take it the wrong way?”

“What is the right way?” he asked.

“I’m asking for the truth and not accusing you of anything.”

“Oh great, it’s going to be some story you heard about me,” he said. “All right, what is it?” He set her down and they sat together on the stage, now facing the absent audience.

“What happened with Darina?” She put her hand on his knee to make it less of an inquisition.

He frowned, perhaps trying to remember the name, then asked, “Archmage’s daughter?”

“Yes.”

“That was a while ago.” He puffed his cheeks, then blew out the air. “She was always nice to me, but I knew who her father was and didn’t like her enough to want the trouble. She invited me to a thing, and I didn’t go. I told her I wasn’t coming, too. Sometimes women do that, Zoya too. I’ll tell them I’m not going, and they’ll get annoyed I didn’t come. I don’t get it.

“Anyway, the next thing I know, the archmage is at my house where I fucken live, throwing a few coins in my face, kind of like you just did, to go entertain his daughter. I don’t always get a choice in that because the name comes from my queen, but I don’t jump because the archmage tells me to. He was very condescending which didn’t help. I didn’t go because I was pissed.

“Then a year later, I think, I got some letters from her when she was sick. But at the time my father had just passed, and the queen was screaming bloody murder. Our houses were about to be at war, and I didn’t know what to make of it. I’m not going to be with someone out of pity, but had it been at any other time, I think I would have at least gone and visited her, brought her biscuits, or whatever.

“Later I heard she passed, but I have a lot of shit going on in my life, and most of it is just that, shit. I don’t cry for strangers. It is what it is.”

“Do you entertain a lot of women?” she asked. Why not? It had been on her mind, and she’d rather ask him than guess at it.

“When I have to,” he whispered, dropping his gaze.

“What does that mean? Why do you have to?” She frowned.

“It’s Her Majesty’s way of keeping tabs on her lords. Being friendly with the wives of lords comes with being a sentinel. The price tag is there so it’s not so blatant.”

“Why are you even a sentinel? Your father was Duke Burkhard!” she blurted, a bit horrified.

“It’s my atonement,” he said.

“What for?” she asked.

He didn’t say. But that was all right. Now she was snooping into Shield affairs, which was throne affairs, and she couldn’t care less about it had it not involved him. She put her head on his shoulder instead.

“I’m glad to have come here,” she said. “I’m glad to have met you.”

“Leaving already?” He kissed her hand.

They didn’t talk for a while and sat listening to the soft waltz making its way from the ballroom. She didn’t want to talk about her leaving, which was in less than ten days, but at least they wouldn’t spend any of it being angry with each other over nothing, essentially.

“Aleksei, is there anywhere we can be private for a while?”

There was a web of tunnels underneath Raven, connecting its many towers and the keep. Though kept dry and clean, it was dark. Long lines of apothecary shelves passed by in the lantern light as Sofia followed Aleksei through the maze, and when they came to a stop in a pocket with barrels on the floor and unlit candles on the shelves, the orchestra sounded right above them.

Sofia took a candle and lit it from the lantern. She passed the light through the shelves and saw potions with labels she couldn’t even pronounce. “What are these?”

“We’re in the weapons storage,” he said. “We won’t be disturbed. Also, I want to be able to hear that.” He pointed up, and she assumed he meant the music.

“You don’t have living quarters at Raven?” Sofia asked.

“Do you want to be seen in the sentinels’ quarters?” He had a point.

She sat down on a barrel and felt it was metal. “These are not wine.”

“No, they are not.” He took a single knee, something he did often she noticed, pulled her by the nape, and kissed her.

She turned away from him and he pressed his face against the side of her neck, breathing. She glided her hand up his hair, her fingers finding the face armor, lifting it, then dropping it to the floor. The clang reverberated. “I don’t like it. You look mean with it on,” she said about the armor.

“That’s the point,” he whispered, his arms around her waist. “You don’t wear a corset.”

“I don’t like them.”

“Me neither.” He’d rested his head on her chest and was just holding her.

“You’re tired,” she said.

“I’m fine.”

She pulled his arm, turned it so the inside faced her, and unbuckled the many straps. She let that drop as well and began on the other arm. “It must be exhausting putting on and taking this off,” she said.

Lev’s was simply a bracelet and the archmage’s was on his skin. The more alchemy one did, the more symbols they needed, and a bigger surface. She’d seen the gold alchemy on the sentinel vambraces varied. They were individual to their ability, she supposed. There were several that were standard, but Aleksei had a few extra ones.

“What do these do?” she asked about the uncommon symbols.

“Animation.”

“Like Durnov?” She looked at the alchemy again. She hadn’t known Shields used animation for that was a whole different house.

“My mother was Durnov,” he said. “My grandfather is a puppeteer.”

“He’s living?”

“I don’t know. We don’t talk.”

Prying into his family affairs, she was killing the mood because it was clearly something he didn’t enjoy talking about. She changed the topic. “You should get more rest with how much alchemy you do.” The weapons belt, the baldric… much leather on him to carry more steel, and she let them all drop. It must be lighter this way. “It’s taxing on the mind for everyone, especially your house,” she said.

“I try,” was his answer.

“Don’t lose your mind, Aleksei. That would be terrible.” She kissed him.

“Terrible.” He’d closed his eyes.

“Get up,” she told him, and rose with him. She slipped the shirt over his head and let the thick black fabric dangle from her fingers before letting it fall. He looked the way he felt, lean and strong. She ran her hand down the warm, smooth skin over taut muscles. “What happened?” she asked. Even in the faint light and harsh, black shadows of the underground, the numerous bruises everywhere were obvious.

“Can’t fight without taking a few hits,” he said.

“A few?” She frowned at an especially nasty one on his ribs.

He didn’t answer but she realized she was making him self-conscious and quit it. There was nothing wrong with him. He was perfect. She touched her lips to the hollow of his neck, and worked her way down his sternum, making him take a long, deep breath and a sharp exhale.

“When can I—” she was going to ask to see him again, but a shadow bolted out from the corner, and she screamed for the saints.

“Aleksei!” When it came into the light it was just a boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen, but he’d scared the wits out of her. “Oh, you’re not supposed to be here.” He frowned at Sofia, then dismissed it rather quickly. “Aleksei!”

“For fuck’s sake,” Aleksei hissed. He’d surprised him too. “What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for you. Thought you might want to know.” He pointed up at the ceiling.

Sofia looked up and didn’t see anything. It took her a breath, but she realized the music had stopped.

“Ah, fuck.” Aleksei dressed in a hurry. “How did you know I was here? You’re going to give her the wrong impression that I bring women down here.”

“Eugene,” said the boy. “She’s very pretty.” He flashed a smile at Sofia, then ran off as quietly as he came.

“Niko, are you coming down to the ballroom?” Aleksei called after him.

“No, the stupid archmage is here. Grigori said I can’t meet him.” Then he was gone.

“Who was that?” Sofia helped Aleksei, holding his gear for him. The boy’s red irises had been prominent.

“My cousin,” he said. “Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed the rest of his things and buckled them as they strode through the dark tunnel.

“You have other cousins than the prince?” Holding the lantern, Sofia quickened her steps to keep up with him.

“Many, but that was the prince.”

“That was the prince!” She looked down the black tunnel he’d disappeared into, realizing he hadn’t been carrying a lantern. “Who’s Eugene?”

“His sentinel.”

“You guys have his and hers?”

“The prince has his own sentinels. I look after the queen. Come on.” He picked her up. “We have to go another way. You’ll get your hem dirty.”

Good. She didn’t mind him carrying her, not at all, and held onto the lantern so they both could see.

“Who’s Grigori?” she asked, suddenly nosy. Casually seeing the prince at an arm’s distance had reminded her how close to royalty she was treading with Aleksei. In hindsight, it had been stupid to offer a few measly gold coins to the queen’s nephew.

“The queen’s mage,” he said.

“Queen has a mage! Why don’t I know?”

“It’s probably because the archmage hates him and Grigori isn’t part of the church.”

“For someone so close to sainthood, my uncle hates a lot of people,” Sofia remarked.

“Everyone loves the archmage. He just doesn’t like us.”

He doesn’t like his own family either, she thought. His benevolence was a fa?ade.