The Crown's Fate
Page 74
“Here,” she said, walking over to where he stood by the windows and pressing the cup into his hands. “You must be thirsty. You’ve been up for hours.”
“You always know what I need.” Nikolai sipped at it. “Interesting flavor. Is that . . . saffron?”
“A new blend the countess acquired just before she passed away,” Renata lied. “Imported from the Greeks. Or was it the Spaniards? One of those.”
I shouldn’t have said those last bits, Renata thought. It was so obvious that she had no idea what she was saying. She held her breath, waiting to see if Nikolai would drink more.
He took another small sip, then floated the cup back to the desk.
Don’t panic, Renata thought. He’ll drink more with breakfast. “Kasha?” she asked, offering Nikolai the bowl.
“Not right now, thank you. I’m not hungry.”
“Uh . . . all right.”
Nikolai quirked his mouth and came over to the desk. “You really want me to eat, don’t you?”
“It’s just . . . I’ve missed looking after you, is all. I was excited to bring you breakfast and forced myself to wait until a reasonable hour before I knocked, and even then, most would not call half past five in the morning reasonable.” It was mostly the truth, just bent to fit what Renata needed done. She shifted in place. Lying to her superiors was not commonplace for her. She actually couldn’t think of the last time—if ever—that she’d done it.
“You’re too good to me.” Nikolai sat down at his desk and spooned some jam into his kasha.
She smiled and went over to the other side of the room, so that she wouldn’t crowd him. Once there, though, she didn’t know what to do. Ordinarily, she would take out her duster and start tidying, but Nikolai’s room was spotless, not a smudge or mote in sight.
Renata decided to look at his new furniture instead. It was more regal than the simple walnut pieces he’d had in the room before. A bit more menacing, too, with the black wood and gold feathers at the handles and hinges, and the talons on the armoire’s feet. It gave the effect, Renata thought, of garudas, which had also featured on the yurts in the steppe dream. It seemed as if a claw inched toward her. She backed away from the armoire and hurried over to Nikolai’s desk again.
“Why are you up so early?” she asked. She looked into his teacup. The level of liquid had gone down just a sip or two.
“We’re staging a coup today.” He said it nonchalantly, as if it were nothing at all. Was this what the dark energy in his veins had done, made Nikolai so callous he couldn’t feel or see what he was doing? It was what he’d hated about Pasha at the end of the Game. First one brother had lost his humanity, and now the other.
Renata’s hands fluttered to her braids, but she’d pinned them up this morning, so there was a frustrating lack of anything to twist or pull on. “I thought I’d have more time.”
Nikolai set his spoon in the bowl. He’d only eaten a few bites of the kasha. “More time?” He scooted his chair away from the desk. “Time for what?”
“N-nothing.”
“Renata.” He gave her the look that she’d seen so many times, the one that meant he knew she wanted to say something but wouldn’t without a little coaxing. She sighed to herself. She loved him so much, it felt like physical pain.
“I’m just . . . scared for you,” Renata said. And everyone else. She embraced him and buried her face into his chest, nuzzling against his perfectly knotted cravat. This could be their last hug.
“Please drink your tea,” Renata said into his vest. If she didn’t ask, Nikolai wouldn’t do it. His mind was already elsewhere, concentrating on the coup. “Let me read your leaves.”
Nikolai let out a single breath of a laugh and pulled away from her. “Is that why you wanted to bring me breakfast?”
“I wanted to see you. I was happy we were both back in this house.”
“And you wanted to read my leaves.”
Renata reached over to the desk and picked up the cup. “And I wanted to read your leaves.”
Nikolai took the teacup but didn’t drink. “I don’t want to know what they say, Renata.”
“Then I won’t tell you. But I can’t bear not knowing if you’re ever coming back. I almost lost you at the end of the Game, and now it’s happening all over again. Just drink the tea and let me read the leaves and I’ll keep the prophecy to myself.”
“It tastes terrible, you know. Whoever created this blend ought to lose his job.”
Renata half laughed, half cried. “So you’ll do it?”
“If it means you’ll stop slinking around and trying to trick me, then I will. I like you better when you’re forthright.” He put the teacup to his lips—those beautiful lips that had once touched hers—and drained the cup of its strange saffron brew. His mouth puckered as he placed the cup back in Renata’s hands.
His touch lingered for a moment. As if Nikolai was considering whether to stay.
And then he inhaled sharply and pulled his fingers away. “I should go.”
“No, wait.” She glanced down at the leaves.
“You promised.”
“I won’t—”
“If I stay longer, I’ll know whether they’re good or bad based on how you react.” He kissed her on the top of her head, and she threw herself into his arms once more.
“Good-bye,” she murmured into his chest. And do the right thing, she thought. I know you can.
“À la prochaine,” he said as he broke away. He crossed the room in three long strides and took his coat and top hat off their hooks. He didn’t look back as he slipped out the door.
Renata ran to the window. A white rat sat perched outside on the ledge, watching her with unblinking red eyes.
“Shoo,” Renata said, banging on the glass, but the rat did not move.
A minute later, though, Nikolai descended the front steps and onto the icy street below, and Renata forgot about the rat. The morning was still an infant, swaddled in nighttime black. Nikolai disappeared quickly into its dark folds.
Only then did Renata sink onto his bed with the teacup cradled in her hands.
She stared. And stared some more. She imagined the leaves moving, willed them to.
They wouldn’t budge. Fate was not so easily manipulated.
“You always know what I need.” Nikolai sipped at it. “Interesting flavor. Is that . . . saffron?”
“A new blend the countess acquired just before she passed away,” Renata lied. “Imported from the Greeks. Or was it the Spaniards? One of those.”
I shouldn’t have said those last bits, Renata thought. It was so obvious that she had no idea what she was saying. She held her breath, waiting to see if Nikolai would drink more.
He took another small sip, then floated the cup back to the desk.
Don’t panic, Renata thought. He’ll drink more with breakfast. “Kasha?” she asked, offering Nikolai the bowl.
“Not right now, thank you. I’m not hungry.”
“Uh . . . all right.”
Nikolai quirked his mouth and came over to the desk. “You really want me to eat, don’t you?”
“It’s just . . . I’ve missed looking after you, is all. I was excited to bring you breakfast and forced myself to wait until a reasonable hour before I knocked, and even then, most would not call half past five in the morning reasonable.” It was mostly the truth, just bent to fit what Renata needed done. She shifted in place. Lying to her superiors was not commonplace for her. She actually couldn’t think of the last time—if ever—that she’d done it.
“You’re too good to me.” Nikolai sat down at his desk and spooned some jam into his kasha.
She smiled and went over to the other side of the room, so that she wouldn’t crowd him. Once there, though, she didn’t know what to do. Ordinarily, she would take out her duster and start tidying, but Nikolai’s room was spotless, not a smudge or mote in sight.
Renata decided to look at his new furniture instead. It was more regal than the simple walnut pieces he’d had in the room before. A bit more menacing, too, with the black wood and gold feathers at the handles and hinges, and the talons on the armoire’s feet. It gave the effect, Renata thought, of garudas, which had also featured on the yurts in the steppe dream. It seemed as if a claw inched toward her. She backed away from the armoire and hurried over to Nikolai’s desk again.
“Why are you up so early?” she asked. She looked into his teacup. The level of liquid had gone down just a sip or two.
“We’re staging a coup today.” He said it nonchalantly, as if it were nothing at all. Was this what the dark energy in his veins had done, made Nikolai so callous he couldn’t feel or see what he was doing? It was what he’d hated about Pasha at the end of the Game. First one brother had lost his humanity, and now the other.
Renata’s hands fluttered to her braids, but she’d pinned them up this morning, so there was a frustrating lack of anything to twist or pull on. “I thought I’d have more time.”
Nikolai set his spoon in the bowl. He’d only eaten a few bites of the kasha. “More time?” He scooted his chair away from the desk. “Time for what?”
“N-nothing.”
“Renata.” He gave her the look that she’d seen so many times, the one that meant he knew she wanted to say something but wouldn’t without a little coaxing. She sighed to herself. She loved him so much, it felt like physical pain.
“I’m just . . . scared for you,” Renata said. And everyone else. She embraced him and buried her face into his chest, nuzzling against his perfectly knotted cravat. This could be their last hug.
“Please drink your tea,” Renata said into his vest. If she didn’t ask, Nikolai wouldn’t do it. His mind was already elsewhere, concentrating on the coup. “Let me read your leaves.”
Nikolai let out a single breath of a laugh and pulled away from her. “Is that why you wanted to bring me breakfast?”
“I wanted to see you. I was happy we were both back in this house.”
“And you wanted to read my leaves.”
Renata reached over to the desk and picked up the cup. “And I wanted to read your leaves.”
Nikolai took the teacup but didn’t drink. “I don’t want to know what they say, Renata.”
“Then I won’t tell you. But I can’t bear not knowing if you’re ever coming back. I almost lost you at the end of the Game, and now it’s happening all over again. Just drink the tea and let me read the leaves and I’ll keep the prophecy to myself.”
“It tastes terrible, you know. Whoever created this blend ought to lose his job.”
Renata half laughed, half cried. “So you’ll do it?”
“If it means you’ll stop slinking around and trying to trick me, then I will. I like you better when you’re forthright.” He put the teacup to his lips—those beautiful lips that had once touched hers—and drained the cup of its strange saffron brew. His mouth puckered as he placed the cup back in Renata’s hands.
His touch lingered for a moment. As if Nikolai was considering whether to stay.
And then he inhaled sharply and pulled his fingers away. “I should go.”
“No, wait.” She glanced down at the leaves.
“You promised.”
“I won’t—”
“If I stay longer, I’ll know whether they’re good or bad based on how you react.” He kissed her on the top of her head, and she threw herself into his arms once more.
“Good-bye,” she murmured into his chest. And do the right thing, she thought. I know you can.
“À la prochaine,” he said as he broke away. He crossed the room in three long strides and took his coat and top hat off their hooks. He didn’t look back as he slipped out the door.
Renata ran to the window. A white rat sat perched outside on the ledge, watching her with unblinking red eyes.
“Shoo,” Renata said, banging on the glass, but the rat did not move.
A minute later, though, Nikolai descended the front steps and onto the icy street below, and Renata forgot about the rat. The morning was still an infant, swaddled in nighttime black. Nikolai disappeared quickly into its dark folds.
Only then did Renata sink onto his bed with the teacup cradled in her hands.
She stared. And stared some more. She imagined the leaves moving, willed them to.
They wouldn’t budge. Fate was not so easily manipulated.
