Aleksey's Kingdom (A Royal Affair #2)(32)

I stopped Boudica with a hand upon her rein, but I did not want the others to catch us up, so then immediately walked on, but keeping Aleksey’s horse close. In all my fear of losing him—after all, who can keep sunlight and air, these necessities of life, entirely to himself?—it had not occurred to me that he might feel the same. That he feared losing me. Did he not understand that I only existed now through him? Clearly he did not. But then had I not been at some pains to hide this dependence from him for fear that he found weakness in such need?

He nodded sadly as if I’d articulated these thoughts and added, “If I do tether you, and I cannot say I particularly like that term, then I am very well aware what binds you—and it is not my company, is it, Niko? Sometimes, worse than fearing you will not be there when I return, I fear that on my journey home I will be suddenly struck down by some disfiguring disease, or become burnt upon my face, which is more likely, obviously, as people do not suddenly… anyway, that is what I think as I am riding: what will he say now? Will he gaze upon my ruined features and find anything he wants now? And then I answer myself: no, of course he—”

“So you babble just as much to yourself in imaginary conversations as you do to me in real ones?”

He smiled sadly. “You do not deny what I say, though, babble or not.”

I pursed my lips. “Talking is not my way, Aleksey. You know this. You knew this when we met.”

“You murmur endearments to Xavier all the time, telling him what a fine horse he is and how brave and beautiful. To me you once said that if I wanted to hear an endearment I should learn to bend over faster.”

“Well, there you go. What more proof of my devotion do you need?”

“I sometimes think that is our problem. We went from you being angry and annoyed with me all the time to….” The color rose upon his cold-whitened cheeks, and he did not complete his thought. I did it for him.

“You think we fucked too soon? I remember it as an agonizingly long drawn-out wait.”

He bit his lip and played with Boudica’s mane. “You have an uncanny knack, Nikolai, of getting to the heart of the matter sometimes.”

“Thank you.”

“That was not a compliment.”

“Oh.”

“I cannot believe you just used that word. You think we fucked?”

I quickly saw my error and tried to backtrack, but he was having none of it. He clenched his jaw. “But you are right in a way. We were arguing, and then we… fucked. Yes, perhaps that’s exactly what did happen. So we never… fell in love, did we?”

“Love?” Of course I did not mean to make that sound like a question: this, love? Of course I did not intend the little splutter of incredulity. No, I meant more you speak of love now when it is snowing and I am hungry and we have a demon child trussed up in a cart and perhaps a dangerous lunatic stalking us?

I don’t think Aleksey got this, though.

His lips went a little pinched. “Perhaps in that case we should take a step back from… fucking… and fall in love first.”

“What? No, Aleksey, look—”

“After all, would that not be appropriate? Courtly love for a king?”

“What?” Repeating myself wasn’t helping, but I had a ghastly vision of him making me wear stockings or play the lute or, worse, compose an ode or something.

“Yes, we can begin tonight.”

“Begin what? What are you talking about?”

He smiled, looking at me for the first time since we had begun this awful conversation. “You can woo me this time.” He suddenly swung Boudica around and began to head back toward our companions. I copied him.

“Woo? Woo?” (This word does not improve upon being repeated; trust me.) “What do you—Aleksey!” But he resolutely continued going in the wrong direction, probably with a sorrowful yet brave expression upon his face.




“YOU APPEAR downcast, Doctor. Is your arm troubling you?” Major Parkinson kindly passed me some cheese, which I declined.

I saw a little glimmer of an opportunity, though, and said in a low, affected voice, “Yes, a little, I confess. I am concerned it may become infected.” I flicked my eyes up to gauge the success of my words.

Aleksey’s expression conveyed no particular distress at them, and he reached for the cheese himself. I sank back in my seat and muttered I might lose the use of my arm entirely. Aleksey began to peel an apple and commented thoughtfully, “I do hope that does not occur, Doctor, for I foresee you will have need of your arm for some while to come.”

“Well, yes, lunatics in the woods. Rum business that.”

I narrowed my eyes at Aleksey, ignoring the major. We had told our companions of Etienne’s warning during dinner, and the major was still brooding over its import. Aleksey took a bite of his apple.

“But do not worry, Your Highness, I have been burnt before—as you know. I must stop trying to save lives; it seems to do me no good.”

He chewed for a while, then swallowed. “I am only grateful that you had such a devoted nurse when you were so badly injured before, Doctor, or you would not have survived to reach the New World. Would you?” He took another bite.

The major tapped his glass with his spoon. “Hear, hear. I once had a pretty little filly nurse me through a bad case of gout. Devoted. Sweet little thing. Don’t recall her name now.”