Aleksey's Kingdom (A Royal Affair #2)(21)

I had not thought upon my life in our colony for many years now, but revisiting it as suddenly as I did then shocked me. Grace. Isaiah. I could hear my father calling for my mother to help him with something, my mother remonstrating with him: “Isaiah, I cannot, the baby….” For of course, my little sister, Elizabeth, had been born in the colony—a freeborn child of the American Colonies and not a European. It had been such a celebration of their commitment to their God. Elizabeth. Beth. Bessie.

I could actually feel the weight of her in my arms as I had carried her, running after our parents as their captors dragged them from our home. I could hear her fearful screams and remembered my attempts to quiet her so they would not turn upon her. And my mother, of course. Grace Hartmann. Her hair blonde as mine is now but loose and flowing behind her. She had been taken and stripped. I had never seen her hair loose before. Or her naked flesh. She had been very godly and modest, as befitted one who had such a harsh devotion to her God.

I closed my eyes and stopped listening to the voices around the table.

Could a man become a man like me because of such horror at so young an age? That was a revelation I had never considered before. Such a violent and unexpected exposure to a woman and her weaknesses and beauty all tied up with horror and pain and screams and blood and… and all the rest. Did I witness my mother’s ravishment and dreadful death and then have that imprinted upon my brain somehow, triggering a reaction to women later in life that had led me to be as I am? This was a very unpleasant train of thought, as you can imagine.

Suddenly Aleksey gave a huge yawn and declared that he was exhausted from such a long day of riding. I opened my eyes and saw all brows rise in surprise, because he was clearly, to any consideration, a very fit young man, but all rose politely and nodded as he left the table and headed to the tent that had been erected for him. He suddenly stopped and declared with a frown of annoyance, “You must not come in late and disturb me, Doctor. Perhaps you should sleep in another tent? Oh, there is not one. That is unfortunate. In that case, you must come now. I will not have my sleep disrupted.” Occasionally, Aleksey’s missed vocation upon the stage was useful. I dutifully followed him. I had been doing this for some years now when it suited me. It suited me to that night.

Faelan took some coaxing to get into the tent, as he did not trust its odd off-white confines. I did not want him sleeping outside, as we would very likely have a severe frost after such a cloudless day, and he was too old and cranky to have to listen to his complaints all the next day about his aching bones. We got him to stretch out across the entrance, which left us just enough room to lie side by side with our cold toes nicely buried in his warm fur. I could feel his light snores through the soles of my feet. Everyone else seemed to have taken our example, and we could hear the good nights and other general chatter of a camp settling down for the night.

Aleksey left it as long as he could bear and then insisted very quietly, “Tell me.”

So I did.

I told him of my memories: the ship and being the favorite of all the sailors and how I had thrived on the adventure; of my sister’s birth and the great celebration of the new life she represented; of the attack by the Powponi and how my parents had been dragged to their deaths; the torture they had endured, being baptized again and again in boiling water so they would renounce their faith; of me watching with my baby sister in my arms and the fear that they would turn upon her, which they did eventually, as she had no use and could not keep up when we had been forced to move with them. Aleksey held me very tightly, listening. Finally I told him of my new theory, that it was horror that had set me on my path and made me a man who finds comfort only with other men, and that this, therefore, was not a conscious or good choice, but one I had made through fear and cowardice.

When I was done, he put his face close to mine.

There was absolute dark in the tent, as if we were deep underground, and I could not even see an outline of his head.

I knew where he was by his soft breath upon my cheek. “I have a theory.”

I actually managed a rueful laugh at this. “I thought you might.”

“Do you know how gold is found in riverbeds—when you put the grit from the bottom into a pan with holes and shake it until all the dross falls out, leaving only the gold?”

“How do you know of this? You know nothing of any use ever.”

“Ah, there you are wrong, my savage one. I know many things that I agree have not been all that useful since we came here, but you must remember I am a king. I am very highly educated in all things that are not very useful. And who has more gold—you or me?”

“And that childish cock-measuring is relevant to me how?”

“Well, I think that most people’s lives are like that pan—not shaken very much and therefore left full of useless dross. But your life has been unusually… agitated, and what is left, Niko? You are the pure gold remaining, that is what.” He ruffled my hair, although he could not see it in the darkness. “Pure gold. And I am a king, so you cannot argue, for gold is one thing I do know more about than you.”

I nodded, but as it was so dark added the murmur of agreement he would want to hear. He put his head down upon my chest, and we were very quiet for some time, both lost in our own thoughts. I felt myself drifting to sleep, so pulled his face up to kiss him before I did and then frowned. His cheeks were wet with tears. I could taste them as I kissed him. I held him off. “What is wrong? Have I done something to upset you?” I was fairly sure I had not, for once, which was why I risked asking this.