“And doessheknow?” Maya hissed, not to be outdone. “What you have been doing these past few months?”
She recalled Luka’s arm around the lady’s waist as he led her through the steps of their dance before the watchful eyes of the court. How Lady Demidova had smiled up at him under the lights, calm and serene andbeautifulin a way that Maya was not.
She didn’t care, Maya told herself fiercely. She didn’t care that Luka was dancing with that woman. It was only his arrogance that made her so…unsettled.
As if he could hear her thoughts, Luka raised an eyebrow as he looked down his nose at her, the very picture of an arrogant prince. “Why do you care?” A slow smile spread across his face. “Are youjealous?”
“Hardly,” she scoffs. “I only ask because…”
Because when you were talking to her, your eyes were shuttered and blank, like you were a hundred miles away.
Because of the way you held yourself, as if you were a soldier at attention.
Because of the look in your eyes when you saw Lord Menshikov’s arm around my waist.
All these thoughts flitted through her mind—and perhaps showed on her face, because Luka swayed closer to her, his hand finally clamping down on her upper arm.
“Because?” he murmured, his other hand coming up to touch a single fingertip under her eye, as if he can see the dark circles that she had hidden under the layers of face paint that her new maid had put on her face as she’d gotten ready for the ball.
“Hmm?” Maya is not sure what they’re talking about anymore.
“Stop pushing me away,” Luka whispered. His eyes were pure black now, just a rim of blue around the edges, drawing her in deeper, making her lean closer to him without her consciously meaning to. His hand curled itself so that his thumb rubbed a slow path down her cheekbone. She wanted to push her face into his hand and purr like a cat.
Maya drew in a shuddering breath, exhaling it out as his name.
“Luka…”
She had no idea what she would’ve said, because the door suddenly opened then, and she sprang apart from him with a gasp.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a drunken voice said, and Maya saw that two lords have stumbled into the library. One of them was a little worse for drink, and he stumbled into his friend, both of them chuckling before they face forward again. “We were just looking for some more wine, you see.”
Their gaze fell on Luka, and horror entered their eyes. “Your Highness!” Their eyes darted to Maya, now, and she struggled to keep the blank look on her face. “Lady von Rakhmonov. Forgive us, we didn’t know you were…” the more sober of the two lords trailed off. “Talking?”
“No matter, my lord,” Maya said, pasting a small smile to her face. “We were done with our conversation.”
“Wait—”
She ignored Luka’s low voice and swept past the men at the door without a backward look, no matter how much she felt a burning gaze on her retreating back.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“My sister is going to ascend to the thronethismonth?”
Stoffel nodded, holding up a letter. “We have received word that the Tsar plans to hold the coronation at the end of the season.” He looked at Luka, his lips pursed as if braced for some explosion of temper.
But Luka couldn’t find it in him to care. His sister would be Tsarina, as his father had always wanted. It didn’t matter to him, not any more. All his thoughts were bent on Maya, and whether he would be seeing her tonight at the Putyatins’ ball. It had been five days since he’d last seen her, and he was going mad with the waiting.
Seeing Maya at the royal ball had made it clear for him: he could never marry anyone else. To hell with his sister, and her plans for him. His heart was his own, and he would tell her as such.
All he needed was the rightleverage. He’d spent the two weeks after Maya had left Kamenev by drowning himself in work, finalizing his agreement with Lord Erlan, and considering Prince Ilya’s idea for reinstating the old alliances among the Four Kingdoms.
But all the while, Maya’s words about his engagement had run through his mind. The more he’d thought about it, the angrier he’d become. Was he destined to remain a pawn to his family his whole life? Was he now expected to marry to please his sister the Crown Princess, too?
With a sudden flash of insight, he wondered if this was how Ludmilla had felt when her marriage had been arranged with the Crown Prince of Sunvaara. A pang of conscience pricked him as he thought about how happy he’d been when he’d met at her Engelhart palace after his return to the capital. He’d apologized for keeping away, blaming his injury and the recovery period, and Ludmilla had believed him without question.
But looking back, all through their meeting, she had been distracted and withdrawn. Finally, he’d brought the topic up first, leaning over their little tea table to take her hand in his.
“Ludmilla, I apologize for not being there for you as I should have these past few weeks, but I’m here now. And I must ask: are you well? You seem…unhappy.”
