Page 2 of The Queen's Shadow
“You’re encroaching on my territory,” he said. “I know everything that goes on here.”
Cassandra snorted. “Of course you do.”
“I’m surprised you even tried something so juvenile as that trick with the bow." He leaned toward her, and his heady, earthy scent wafted over her. “What’s your real play, Cass?”
Cass. The name he called her to get under her skin.
“My real play?” She laughed. “You know I only came here to see you, Phax.”
His mouth twisted at the name she used to get under his skin.
“Of course.” He raised their arms suddenly, spinning her out as the music swelled. When he pulled her back in, they were closer than before, and she could feel the warmth of him through her gown. “This visit has nothing to do with the presence of the Inetian ambassador, does it? I’m sure your queen is gnashing her teeth at the thought of a Mediran and Inetian alliance.”
Gnashing her teeth. That was an understatement. The Rendran queen had been livid when she’d heard of the ambassador’s presence at the palace. It was yet another betrayal from the Mediran king. Medira and Rendra had had a tenuous relationship since the Mediran king had broken part of their trade alliance eighteen years earlier, not long after the queen had taken over for her father. He had violated Rendra’s trust repeatedly in the following years, but this was something else entirely.
Cassandra gave Arphaxad her sweetest smile. “The Inetian ambassador, you say? I hear there’s an Inetian princess of marriageable age, though I can’t imagine a teenager would much like being married to a man well into his fifties, even if he is a king.”
“Indeed.” Arphaxad’s fingers tightened at her back. “You clearly know everything already. What other information could you possibly want from me?”
She gave him a tight smile. “It seems we are at an impasse, then.”
“Are we ever truly at an impasse, Cass?” he drawled.
She simply smiled.
The waltz sped up then, and Cassandra’s heartbeat quickened as they whirled in ever tightening circles, and she did her best not to let her feet get tangled. Arphaxad was an adept dancer, but so was she. It was all part of the job, to move and dance and fight like she wasn’t there at all. She would not let him outdo her.
She followed where he led, one hand against his shoulder, the other placed in his, the space between them so small yet also a chasm neither would dare cross. She kept her eyes on him, on the curve of his jaw, the dark stubble that lined it, on the glint in his eyes, at once dangerous and electrifying.
She was squarely in enemy territory, in a place where he could call for the guards at any moment. But that wasn’t how this game was played. Not with him. She would be sorely disappointed if it were.
The music rose again in a final, wild crescendo and then dropped away as suddenly as it had started. Applause echoed into the night air, but neither Cassandra nor Arphaxad moved. Something flashed in his gaze that Cassandra couldn’t quite read. A moment passed and then another, a strange expectation hovering between them. Then finally, Arphaxad was stepping away, and Cassandra found herself feeling drained and strangely disappointed.
“This way, my lady,” Arphaxad said, his voice holding a formality it hadn’t a moment before.
She followed him to the edge of the courtyard where a large green-and-red banner fluttered in the night breeze. They made their way through a narrow stone archway and down into a sunken garden. The pink versithia were in full bloom, and their sweet scent almost overpowered the space.
“Are you taking me to see your king?” Cassandra asked, keeping her voice carefully light.
Arphaxad’s mouth quirked. “Your queen would like that, wouldn’t she?”
He stepped up to a small door at the edge of the garden. He reached under his black tunic and drew out a ring of keys. He used one to unlock the door and pulled it open. A rough staircase disappeared upward into darkness.
“After you,” he said, gesturing toward the open door.
Cassandra gave Arphaxad a quick smile as she stepped up beside him. She was so close she could make out the beads of sweat sliding down his neck from the heat. “How about we go my way instead,” she said, pressing a knife into his side.
Arphaxad blinked. “You—” he stuttered, reaching for the knife that was no longer on his person.
“I what?” She grinned. “I thought you were trained to expect the unexpected.”
“This is still my territory, Cass,” Arphaxad said, his voice low, dangerous.
“But I am the queen’s shadow,” she said, leaning up so her mouth was next to his ear. She thought she felt him shiver.
“You can be insufferable, you know,” he said. There was no hint of frustration in his tone, only amusement.
“I don’t think I’m alone in that,” she returned with a smirk.