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Petros turns to me. “Is he all right?”

“He might be swooning.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time this has happened to me. Really, no one is prepared for me before they see me.”

“It’s those delightful freckles on your cheeks.” I smile. “Why didn’t you ask me to dance?” Petros is known for liking both men and women. I hadn’t ever thought I’d be competing with Eryx over something like this, but now that I was the second choice, I can’t help but feel put out.

“You’re prettier than he is, but I am loyal to your sister.”

The response is the last thing I expected to hear. He must be close to Alessandra if he knows the nature of our relationship.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Eryx says before I can change the subject, “but my interests lie elsewhere.”

“Pity,” Petros says. “But I daresay you are giving everyone else in the room hope by refusing to dance with the women.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any interest in dancing at all. We’re on our way to speak with the king and queen.”

“Is that so?” Petros does a sweep of the room.

Kallias and Alessandra are seated at chairs against the far wall. At this rate, it’ll take us another half hour to reach them.

“Well, this I have to see. Follow me.”

Petros starts walking toward our monarchs, and Eryx and I hurry to follow. When anyone tries to approach, Petros shoos them away.

“Their presence has been requested by the king and queen. You can harass them later! Don’t you give me that look, Leta Trakas. You’ve accosted the young men in the room long enough. Go dance with your husband!”

Before I’ve mentally prepared myself, I’m staring down my sister. She’s eyeing her husband as though she’s conflicted about whether to stay for the party she’s planned or move things to a private location. No one can fault her for that.

“Alessandra.”

My sister’s eyes land on me. In a haughty voice, she says, “That’sYour Majesty, Chrysantha.”

“Your Grace.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to insist I call you by your title, then you must use mine. I am a duchess, after all.”

“Devils, there’s two of you,” Eryx mutters under his breath, too quiet for anyone other than me to catch.

Alessandra says nothing, clearly caught off guard by my snarky response. To dispel the tension, I say, “Thank you for the invitation. It is good to see you happy. You look radiant. You made that dress yourself, didn’t you? You’ve always had such a talent for sewing.”

She cocks her head to the side, as though she can’t quite tell what to make of me. Am I in earnest? Or is there some hidden barb in my words? Or am I buttering her up because I mean to ask something of her?

When still she says nothing, I press on, “And it is good to see youagain as well, my king. You couldn’t have found a better match than my sister.”

“I know that,” he says, and when he looks at Alessandra and sees her conflicted face, he leans forward, whispering words too quiet for me to hear. I wonder if Eryx can decipher them.

Alessandra shakes her head, answering no to whatever the king asked. “Who is your guest?” she asks me. “I heard you had taken up with a man. From Zanita’s?”

Her tone makes it clear that she thinks me a hypocrite, and I suppose I was, chastising her for sleeping around when I went and did the very same thing. The difference is that the chastising was an act.

“No,” I say, “sadly I had to let Sandros go. This is Eryx Demos, my late husband’s grandson and the man who would take up the title of Duke of Pholios. I wanted to make an introduction.”

Alessandra gives Eryx a careful perusal. The king says nothing, letting his wife take the lead on this matter.

“Was your lover more or less handsome than this man?” the queen asks.