Aleksey's Kingdom (A Royal Affair #2)(17)

I was tempted to ask Aleksey if it were not better for the old wolf that he remain behind with Roderick Fallkirk, but something held me back. Faelan was my talisman in some ways. He was my link between the man I had once been and the one I had become—science given way to faith perhaps. Besides, I liked having him with us.

It was one of those perfect autumn days that make you feel as though the delicate finger of a god who loves color had touched the earth. The trees were iridescent with gold and red and orange, the ground white from frost, and the sky so blue that it rivaled the blue on the lining of the soldiers’ jackets. I was out in front, leading the group, Aleksey by my side, Freedom tied to his mother’s saddle (much to his disgust, I should think). I glanced over and caught Aleksey doing the same thing at exactly the same time. We grinned at each other, and he was annoying enough to brag quietly, “Was I not very clever in organizing this? Are you not enjoying yourself now?”

I made a face at him but added, “You are looking exceptionally pretty. I will give you that.”

I did not give compliments to him very often, and I’m not sure any man wants to be called pretty—even by his lover. I added in the same tone, “I do so wonder what you will wear to the ball. I am agog with anticipation to see you.”

“Oh.”

“Perhaps you will save a dance for me?”

“I do not tell you these things because you behave like this when I do! What did we do for Christmas last year, Nikolai?”

“Christmas? I don’t think—”

“Exactly!” He said this with such triumph in his tone it was clear he did not think he had to elucidate, but when he saw my bafflement, he added, very annoyed, “Nothing! We did precisely nothing.”

“You wanted to celebrate Christmas? Why did you not say?”

“Oh, and what would you have done? Pray tell me, Niko. I am agog to hear.”

I smiled at his mimicry and shrugged. “Have your ball. I do not care. I will come if you want and watch you seduce everyone with how well you dance.”

“Will you?” He looked so serious and so pleased I did not have the heart to tell him I had only been joking. I shrugged again. “Perhaps we will both fall victim to phantom bone-grinding cannibals and not return from this great journey.”

“You would be too tough and stringy to eat. Chewy.”

“You do not seem to find me so….”

“Oh God’s teeth, hush.” He glanced around and saw we were alone, and relented, more than happy to carry on such a conversation. He was getting almost better at it than I these days. I nudged our horses closer so our thighs touched.

“So, Your Highness again now, is it?”

He winced. “It slipped out once. I could hardly then deny it, could I?”

“Oh. I apologize. Yes, I can see that ‘oh, by the way, I am actually royalty’ slips off the tongue.”

He hit me. I told him that this would look very strange to anyone watching and that it was always very unwise to hit your elderly physician.




THE DAY continued to be glorious. By midday it was so warm we stopped under the coolness of the trees to rest for an hour. Once more the camp table and chairs were erected and excellent food was produced. I had nothing to do but lounge in a chair and watch Aleksey. It was very pleasant. I was dressed only in a shirt, and this open well down my chest, and some trousers fashioned in the Powponi style from softest buckskin tucked into my boots. How the soldiers tolerated their heavy wool shirts and stocks, waistcoats and coats I could not imagine. I suggested to Major Parkinson that he allow everyone to disrobe somewhat, as this was not a military expedition, but he eyed my state of undress and replied waspishly that standards must be maintained. I loosened my shirt some more and stretched out in the chair.

I was wakened suddenly and very unpleasantly by a loud shot. Once I had spotted Aleksey and seen that he was uninjured and as puzzled as I by the unexpected noise, I followed Captain Rochester and the young lieutenant toward the edge of the trees. The trappers were demonstrating their muskets to the soldiers. They said they had shot a deer, which I doubted, personally. If they had, it would be our only one that day, for the noise had surely frightened off anything else worth taking. I gestured to Aleksey to return with me to the camp, but he wanted to play with the guns. Typical. I left him to it and went back, hoping there was some lunch left. Major Parkinson was still at the table, which did not surprise me. I retook my seat and told him that when we started hunting for food the muskets would be a liability. He grunted, his mouth full. After a few minutes of chewing, he mumbled, “Bad business that thing with His Highness.”

I nodded noncommittally. Knowing Aleksey’s propensity for theatrics as well as I did, there were limitless possibilities to what this bad business might be.

“Damn good thing you were there, if you ask me. Loyal. Damn good quality. Like that dog of yours.”

I was not sure I appreciated being likened to an old, faithful pet. “He’s a wolf, and he’s not mine. Loyalty?”

“Rum business if you ask me. Very rum. All those damn peasants. New ideas. Rum bloody business. I met the king once, you know.”

I frowned, trying to find some germ of actual sense in his ramblings. “Gregor?”

“Who? Charles. Mad as a rabid dog. Nice chap, though. More sausage?”