playing games again.”
Alexander nods solemnly. A ball of silent fury builds inside me. How could I have been so stupid? Of course he wasn’t genuinely interested in me. How could I have been so easily fooled? I replay every moment in my mind, our ride, the picnic he made for us. Had it all been a ruse? I square my shoulders and lift my chin. I’ll have to redouble my efforts to catch his attention. Perhaps I gave in too quickly, or perhaps I needed to remain more aloof? Then another, much darker thought occurs to me.
My head snaps up. “Why are you telling me this?”
Alexander takes a step back, looking affronted.
“Peter is your friend; I am just a stranger from another country. So why do you tell me these things? Or are you more part of this game than you would like to admit?”
I swear I see him blush before he looks away.
“It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate. When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, we wish that one should love, the other win.” His voice trembles on the last line, and it does not escape my notice.
I know the poem. Marlowe is one of my favorites. His verses of love and longing are deep and still, something I often allow myself to indulge in. This poem, in particular, resonates with me. I complete the last line.
“Where both deliberate, the love is slight. Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?”
He turns back to me.
“If any were to remain here, as empress, I wish it to be you. Should Peter’s heart fall to a beautiful face, he need look no further than what is right in front of him.”
My heart skips in my chest painfully. I stare at him for a long moment, unsure what to say. He is a dark beauty. His gaze is fervent and almost excruciating to behold. Unlike the others at court, all golden hair and fair skin, he feels wild.
Dangerous, a soft voice whispers in the back of my mind.
“If he marries you, then you can remain here, at court.” He rakes a hand through his hair in a boyish gesture. “And I would have you stay, for purely selfish reasons. So that I might—from a distance—be allowed to behold you.”
His words slice through me like a sword, sharp and quick. I know I cannot indulge this feeling I have—a feeling we seem to share. But there is something else, a deep longing that threatens to overwhelm me. I open my mouth to speak but the room spins, my stomach churning. I stumble back as my knees go weak. I feel myself fall, and his arms catch me as I collapse.
“Princess?” his voice calls out to me as if from a great distance. “Sophie?”
He sets me gently into a chair. I place my hand on his chest and open my eyes. The room has become unbearably hot, and I feel weak as a newborn kitten. Under my fingers, I feel his heart pound, strong and steady. I focus on the sensation, clutching it like a drowning man might clutch a rope. In that moment, he is my lifeline, the only thing tethering me to the earth.
“I need to get back to my room,” I whisper hoarsely.
Without a word, he scoops me up, cradling me in his arms. I rest my head in the curve of his neck. His skin is cool compared to mine so I nuzzle against him, touching him everywhere I can find exposed flesh. I know I shouldn’t touch him so, but the rational part of my mind is being burned away in a haze of fever.
I don’t see the guard throw my door open, but I hear it. Alexander orders him to fetch the physician, lays me across the settee, and wipes my hair back from my face.
“Go,” I order softly. “They can’t find you here.”
I hear him curse lightly under his breath and I feel a quick, nearly imperceptible kiss graze my forehead before he releases me and backs away. As soon as I’m sure he’s gone, I call out to my mother, who rushes into the room. Seeing me, she screams for help. I roll off the lounge and spill onto the cool floor. A pain in my chest rises up and I cough, suddenly unable to catch my breath. When I look down, I
Alexander nods solemnly. A ball of silent fury builds inside me. How could I have been so stupid? Of course he wasn’t genuinely interested in me. How could I have been so easily fooled? I replay every moment in my mind, our ride, the picnic he made for us. Had it all been a ruse? I square my shoulders and lift my chin. I’ll have to redouble my efforts to catch his attention. Perhaps I gave in too quickly, or perhaps I needed to remain more aloof? Then another, much darker thought occurs to me.
My head snaps up. “Why are you telling me this?”
Alexander takes a step back, looking affronted.
“Peter is your friend; I am just a stranger from another country. So why do you tell me these things? Or are you more part of this game than you would like to admit?”
I swear I see him blush before he looks away.
“It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate. When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, we wish that one should love, the other win.” His voice trembles on the last line, and it does not escape my notice.
I know the poem. Marlowe is one of my favorites. His verses of love and longing are deep and still, something I often allow myself to indulge in. This poem, in particular, resonates with me. I complete the last line.
“Where both deliberate, the love is slight. Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?”
He turns back to me.
“If any were to remain here, as empress, I wish it to be you. Should Peter’s heart fall to a beautiful face, he need look no further than what is right in front of him.”
My heart skips in my chest painfully. I stare at him for a long moment, unsure what to say. He is a dark beauty. His gaze is fervent and almost excruciating to behold. Unlike the others at court, all golden hair and fair skin, he feels wild.
Dangerous, a soft voice whispers in the back of my mind.
“If he marries you, then you can remain here, at court.” He rakes a hand through his hair in a boyish gesture. “And I would have you stay, for purely selfish reasons. So that I might—from a distance—be allowed to behold you.”
His words slice through me like a sword, sharp and quick. I know I cannot indulge this feeling I have—a feeling we seem to share. But there is something else, a deep longing that threatens to overwhelm me. I open my mouth to speak but the room spins, my stomach churning. I stumble back as my knees go weak. I feel myself fall, and his arms catch me as I collapse.
“Princess?” his voice calls out to me as if from a great distance. “Sophie?”
He sets me gently into a chair. I place my hand on his chest and open my eyes. The room has become unbearably hot, and I feel weak as a newborn kitten. Under my fingers, I feel his heart pound, strong and steady. I focus on the sensation, clutching it like a drowning man might clutch a rope. In that moment, he is my lifeline, the only thing tethering me to the earth.
“I need to get back to my room,” I whisper hoarsely.
Without a word, he scoops me up, cradling me in his arms. I rest my head in the curve of his neck. His skin is cool compared to mine so I nuzzle against him, touching him everywhere I can find exposed flesh. I know I shouldn’t touch him so, but the rational part of my mind is being burned away in a haze of fever.
I don’t see the guard throw my door open, but I hear it. Alexander orders him to fetch the physician, lays me across the settee, and wipes my hair back from my face.
“Go,” I order softly. “They can’t find you here.”
I hear him curse lightly under his breath and I feel a quick, nearly imperceptible kiss graze my forehead before he releases me and backs away. As soon as I’m sure he’s gone, I call out to my mother, who rushes into the room. Seeing me, she screams for help. I roll off the lounge and spill onto the cool floor. A pain in my chest rises up and I cough, suddenly unable to catch my breath. When I look down, I
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