Nikolai must have noticed, because he whispered, “You don’t have to pay attention, but you do have to look like you’re paying attention.”
I did my best, though I didn’t have much to say. Even dressed in a glittering kefta and seated beside a prince, I was still a peasant from a no-name town. I didn’t belong with these people, and I didn’t really want to. Still, I gave a silent prayer of thanks that Ana Kuya had taught her orphans how to sit at table and which fork to use to eat snails.
After dinner, we were herded into a parlor where the Count and Countess sang a duet accompanied by their daughter on the harp. Dessert was laid on the side table: honey mousse, a walnut and melon compote, and a tower of pastries covered in clouds of spun sugar that wasn’t meant to be eaten so much as ogled. There was more wine, more gossip. I was asked to summon light, and I cast a warm glow over the coffered ceiling to enthusiastic applause. When some of the guests sat down to play cards, I pleaded a headache and quietly made my escape.
Nikolai caught me at the doors to the terrace. “You should stay,” he said. “This is good practice for the monotony of court.”
“Saints need their rest.”
“Are you planning to sleep under a rosebush?” he asked, glancing down toward the garden.
“I’ve been a good little dancing bear, Nikolai. I’ve done all my tricks, and now it’s time for me to say goodnight.”
Nikolai sighed. “Maybe I just wish I could go with you. The Countess kept squeezing my knee under the table at dinner, and I hate playing cards.”
“I thought you were the consummate politician.”
“I told you I have trouble keeping still.”
“Then you’ll just have to ask the Countess to dance,” I said with a grin, and slipped out into the night air.
As I descended the terrace steps, I looked back over my shoulder. Nikolai still hovered in the doorway. He wore full military dress, a pale blue sash across his chest. The light from the parlor glinted off his medals and gilded the edges of his golden hair. He was playing the role of the polished prince tonight. But standing there, he just looked like a lonely boy who didn’t want to return to a party by himself.
I turned and took the curving staircase down to the sunken garden.
It didn’t take me long to find Mal. He was leaning against the trunk of a large oak, scanning the manicured grounds.
“Anyone lurking in the dark?” I asked.
“Just me.”
I settled beside him against the trunk. “You should have joined us at dinner.”
Mal snorted. “No thank you. From what I could see, you looked positively miserable, and Nikolai didn’t look much happier. Besides,” he added with a glance at my kefta, “whatever would I have worn?”
“Do you hate it?”
“It’s lovely. A perfect addition to your trousseau.” Before I could even roll my eyes, he snagged hold of my hand. “I didn’t mean that,” he said. “You look beautiful. I’ve been wanting to say so since I first saw you tonight.”
I flushed. “Thanks. Using my power every day helps.”
“You were beautiful back in Cofton with jurda pollen in your brows.”
I tugged self-consciously at a strand of my hair. “This place reminds me of Keramzin,” I said.
“A little. It’s a lot fussier. What exactly is the point of teeny tiny fruit?”
“It’s for people with teeny tiny hands. Makes them feel better about themselves.”
He laughed, a real laugh. I reached into my pocket and fished around inside the black velvet pouch.
“I have something for you,” I said.
“What is it?”
I held out my closed fist.
“Guess,” I said. It was a game we’d played as children.
“Obviously, it’s a sweater.”
I shook my head.
“A show pony?”
“Nope.”
He reached out and took my hand, turning it over and gently unfolding my fingers.
I waited for his reaction.
His mouth tugged up at one corner as he plucked the golden sunburst from my hand. The rough brush of his fingers against my palm sent a shiver up my back.
“For the captain of your personal guard?” he asked.
I cleared my throat nervously. “I … I didn’t want uniforms. I didn’t want anything that looked like the Darkling’s oprichniki.”
For a long moment, we stood in silence as Mal looked down at the sunburst. Then he handed it back to me. My heart plummeted, but I tried to hide my disappointment.
“Put it on me?” he asked.
I let my breath out in a relieved rush. I took the pin between my fingers and pressed it through the folds on the left side of his shirt. It took me a couple of tries to get it hooked. When I finished and made to step back, he took my hand and pressed it over the golden sun, over his heart.
“Is that all?” he said.
We were standing close together now, alone in the warm dark of the garden. It was the first moment we’d had to ourselves in weeks.
“All?” I repeated. My voice came out as little more than a breath.
“I believe I was promised a cape and a fancy hat.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” I said.
“Are you flirting?”