doesn’t make you immortal.”
“I had heard that, but I dismissed it as an ugly rumor.”
“At least forget the toga and wear your doublet, with chain mail underneath.”
“That would offend my host.”
“God’s breath but you’re stubborn! Will you bring the cup?”
“No. Not yet. I want to get the lay of the land first, see what other surprises the good Gonzalo has in store for us. I wouldn’t put it past him not to bring the princess at all.”
“Surely—”
“I’ll grant it’s unlikely, but no more so than having us to dinner in the palace kitchen.”
“Not the kitchen.”
“You take my meaning. And I certainly don’t want to come bearing a gift for the princess only to have her father take it instead, promising to give it to her on the morrow.”
“You’re right. He might take a fancy to it and keep it for himself—you know, for enjoying a nice little cup of chilled wine on a hot afternoon.”
“Heaven help us, Molly—what a hideous thought! Do you suppose I would then have to marry horrible old King Gonzalo?”
Suddenly it all seemed terribly funny and they laughed till they were almost sick. It felt good. It broke the tension.
But after a while, when Alaric had regained his kingly composure, Molly went on laughing, unable to control herself. The laughter just kept coming, wave after wave of it, till her face was red and her cheeks were wet with tears.
“Molly, stop,” Alaric said then, his voice sharp.
But she couldn’t. She slipped off the chair and onto the floor, where she knelt, her face buried in her hands. Still the laughter came in spasms, only now its character had changed. It was as if a dam inside her had given way, and all the emotions that had been building up inside were pouring out. She felt lighter for having shed them, so light that she was half afraid she’d float away. But Alaric was holding her now, keeping her connected to the earth—though his arms gripped her rather too fiercely, as if he were restraining a wild and dangerous beast or a madwoman having a fit.
Finally she went limp, the laughter gone. But still they remained as they were: on the floor, Molly in his arms—except that now he held her gently, as a lover would, his head leaning against her neck, his hand stoking her hair.
And then she was crying.
And then it was over.
9
A Very Deep Game
SHORTLY AFTER SUNSET, SLAVES bearing lamps came to Alaric’s villa to escort him and his companions to dinner. They formed a tight little procession, with two slaves in front and two behind to light their way, and the three of them in the middle. Alaric went ahead, looking quite handsome in his beautiful toga—handsome, small, and defenseless. Molly and Tobias followed close behind. All of them were as watchful as cats.
The palace, like most royal residences, was fortified with both an inner and an outer curtain wall. The outer wall was extensive, enclosing everything from the stables and craftsmen’s workshops to the fishpond, the brewer’s yard, and the guest compound. The much smaller inner wall protected the king’s domain.
When the procession arrived at this inner wall, the gate was already open, a guard on either side standing at attention. But as soon as they’d passed through, it was shut behind them, its great iron bolt thrown with a harsh, metallic clang . The sound made Molly’s skin crawl. It was a dark reminder that walls weren’t just for keeping enemies out. Sometimes walls were for keeping people in.
They continued along a series of covered walkways lit by torches on the walls, turning first one way, then another, until finally they reached a large courtyard garden. This Molly recognized. They’d been there earlier in the day, shortly after they’d arrived. But it had looked completely different then.
Candles now lined the paths and marked the edge of the pool, while the rest of the garden, with its wealth of flowers and ornamental shrubs, lay shrouded in darkness. And
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