was again: that swift mood change I’d observed before. One moment he was free and easy, almost too free (one might almost call it a charm offensive; one might even call it flirting), and then the next, he was the cold, entitled, spoiled child again. It was tiring. I stopped and looked frankly at him. He did not appear to like being studied as much as he liked putting me under close observation. “What?”
“We are here. I need to proceed with my examination.”
“Oh.” He frowned, glancing around, as if he genuinely had not noticed that we had arrived outside the royal bedchamber. “My father will be at prayer in his chapel. You will have a long wait.” He was staring at me again.
I felt he wanted to ask me something and was eager to hear what this question might be. It appeared I had a long wait for that too. Finally, sick of his games, I snapped, “Stop it!”
He recoiled. I heard the inevitable low rumble of warning from the creature at his side.
I turned away, aware there were many ears around to hear, should they decide to listen. He caught my arm, though, and I had to turn back or look ridiculous. “What’s wrong? Why are you so out of humor?”
“I do not like being put under your royal microscope, Your Royal Highness.”
He let my arm go, frowning. “My what?”
I sighed. “It’s a new instrument for examining things that are too small for the eye to discern.” I hesitated. “I have one in my rooms, if you would care to see it.”
He grinned, and once again I was subject to that abrupt change of mood. It was like being a little boat tossed around in a storm, one moment in favorable wind, the next fighting to stay upright. “Are you inviting me up to your rooms to see your instrument, Nikolai?”
I jerked my head back a fraction. Could I mistake that for anything other than flirting? Yet it seemed so incongruous that it should be so. Cautiously, but in the same light tone, I replied, “As you have set my rooms directly adjacent to your own, I suspect you will be able to hear me using my instrument, should you wish to listen.”
He thought about this for a moment. To my great annoyance, whatever reply he might have made was forestalled when a priest slid out from the royal chambers. He saw Aleksey and came forward, rubbing his hands unctuously. “Your Royal Highness, His Majesty has begun his prayers. I will return to hear his confession in two hours.”
“Two hours! I need to see him now!”
The priest turned to me with a look as if he’d stepped in me. Aleksey quickly made introductions. Father Cavil made me a small bow and apologized if he had offended me. “I did not realize the imperative nature of your desire to see His Majesty. Perhaps, this once, I could persuade him to curtail his devotions.” He scurried away.
Something was tickling at the back of my mind, but I could not yet bring it to the fore. “Who has access to the king when he prays?”
“No one except God, and I do not think God is trying to poison my father.”
Why not ? I thought. He’s poisoned almost everyone else he’s had contact with . Something of this must have appeared in my expression, for I saw a tiny flicker of amusement quirk the corner of Aleksey’s lips. He suppressed the heresy, though, and added, “The chapel is reached from the bedroom. It is entirely without access except from the bedroom. We have thought of this.”
“But nevertheless, it is the only time he is wholly alone.”
“Yes. You are right. It is the only time we cannot account for him. Perhaps we do need to look at God.”
“Hmm. I would say rather look to the priest.”
He ignored this and suddenly asked me, “Do you know what the punishment for poisoning the king is?”
I raised my eyebrows. “No. I know nothing of your laws. But I suspect it is not a fine and some form of charitable works.”
“No, it is not. It is being boiled alive.”
I recoiled. “You have savage laws.”
“These are savage
“We are here. I need to proceed with my examination.”
“Oh.” He frowned, glancing around, as if he genuinely had not noticed that we had arrived outside the royal bedchamber. “My father will be at prayer in his chapel. You will have a long wait.” He was staring at me again.
I felt he wanted to ask me something and was eager to hear what this question might be. It appeared I had a long wait for that too. Finally, sick of his games, I snapped, “Stop it!”
He recoiled. I heard the inevitable low rumble of warning from the creature at his side.
I turned away, aware there were many ears around to hear, should they decide to listen. He caught my arm, though, and I had to turn back or look ridiculous. “What’s wrong? Why are you so out of humor?”
“I do not like being put under your royal microscope, Your Royal Highness.”
He let my arm go, frowning. “My what?”
I sighed. “It’s a new instrument for examining things that are too small for the eye to discern.” I hesitated. “I have one in my rooms, if you would care to see it.”
He grinned, and once again I was subject to that abrupt change of mood. It was like being a little boat tossed around in a storm, one moment in favorable wind, the next fighting to stay upright. “Are you inviting me up to your rooms to see your instrument, Nikolai?”
I jerked my head back a fraction. Could I mistake that for anything other than flirting? Yet it seemed so incongruous that it should be so. Cautiously, but in the same light tone, I replied, “As you have set my rooms directly adjacent to your own, I suspect you will be able to hear me using my instrument, should you wish to listen.”
He thought about this for a moment. To my great annoyance, whatever reply he might have made was forestalled when a priest slid out from the royal chambers. He saw Aleksey and came forward, rubbing his hands unctuously. “Your Royal Highness, His Majesty has begun his prayers. I will return to hear his confession in two hours.”
“Two hours! I need to see him now!”
The priest turned to me with a look as if he’d stepped in me. Aleksey quickly made introductions. Father Cavil made me a small bow and apologized if he had offended me. “I did not realize the imperative nature of your desire to see His Majesty. Perhaps, this once, I could persuade him to curtail his devotions.” He scurried away.
Something was tickling at the back of my mind, but I could not yet bring it to the fore. “Who has access to the king when he prays?”
“No one except God, and I do not think God is trying to poison my father.”
Why not ? I thought. He’s poisoned almost everyone else he’s had contact with . Something of this must have appeared in my expression, for I saw a tiny flicker of amusement quirk the corner of Aleksey’s lips. He suppressed the heresy, though, and added, “The chapel is reached from the bedroom. It is entirely without access except from the bedroom. We have thought of this.”
“But nevertheless, it is the only time he is wholly alone.”
“Yes. You are right. It is the only time we cannot account for him. Perhaps we do need to look at God.”
“Hmm. I would say rather look to the priest.”
He ignored this and suddenly asked me, “Do you know what the punishment for poisoning the king is?”
I raised my eyebrows. “No. I know nothing of your laws. But I suspect it is not a fine and some form of charitable works.”
“No, it is not. It is being boiled alive.”
I recoiled. “You have savage laws.”
“These are savage
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