Glitter

  One step.

  Two.

  His fingers rest on my chin again, lifting it, and though my impulse is to turn away, step back, the tingling in my stomach tells me he’s not simply looking for bruises along my neck this time.

  And still the brush of his lips on that tender spot takes me by delicious surprise.

  My hands reach out for something to steady them and meet only the warm chest in front of me. I’m drowning in the bone-melting pleasure of the moment and trying not to consider what will happen tomorrow. When he pulls back to look at me, my own shock mirrored in his eyes, it’s the tremble of his thumb against my bottom lip that convinces me this isn’t an act.

  As though there were no other choice, his palm slides along my cheek, and no force in the world could have prevented the tiny lift of my chin to meet the feather-soft question that is his kiss. When he begins to pull away again, my hands rise to his face and bring him back. This is my answer.

  But I’m not the only force pulling us together this time as he grasps at the back of my gown, snugging me hard against him, pushing my neck up, his mouth moving firmly against mine. I try to twine my arms around his neck, but I can’t raise them much higher than his shoulders, trapped as they are by my tight silk sleeves.

  Desperation crashes over me like a surge of claustrophobia and I command, “M.A.R.I.E., my dress,” against his lips without breaking contact. I pull him backward several steps until my feet find my new dressing stool. Two bots whir forward, and as they unhook and unlace my gown, I’m pushing the embroidered jacket off Saber’s shoulders, understanding for the first time the appeal of the loose, thin cotton shirts the tourists wear.

  Saber’s hands join mine in their task the instant they’re freed from the sleeves of his jacket, peeling my bodice down and off my shoulders even as the bots loosen me from my confines, bit by bit. I’ve never thought of my gown as a cage until this moment; Saber has to give up his task when the bodice gets stuck on the cage of my panniers, but as the bots take over, he steals a moment to shed his waistcoat, then returns to me, his lips exploring the skin from my bare shoulder, where the strap of my chemise hangs uselessly, to that delicate spot behind my ears, kissing away my hurts, his lips ever so gently touching the reddened areas left by the Royal Asshole’s hands.

  As my dress falls to the ground with the clatter of at least a dozen pots of Glitter, I feel little mechanical fingers start to untie the satin ribbons of my stays. “Just loosen them. Four centimeters,” I order breathlessly before delving into Saber’s lips again. I can’t take them all the way off. Between tonight’s tight lacing and the feel of Saber’s skin against me, I’m certain I’d only end up passed out on the floor.

  Even standing there in my long chemise and corset—technically my underclothing—I’m still basically clothed, but the removal of my gown and underskirts allows me to feel. Without the thick cloth I can press myself against him, feel the warmth of his skin, raise my arms to tuck my face against his neck and cling there, feeling safe for the first time in days.

  Months.

  Weeks and weeks I’ve known Saber, and even from the first moment I saw him, this is what I wanted. The backs of my knees hit the bed, and I break our kiss long enough to sit down and scoot back, making room. My eyes invite him to join me, and for a moment I see a flicker of indecision, and something else—something deeper I don’t want to analyze. For several long seconds, I think he won’t.

  Then he lets out a groan that sounds more like disappointment than desire, and he lifts a knee to hoist himself onto the bed, where he poises his body over mine. He doesn’t hesitate to give me his mouth again.

  —

  THE RAIN ON the windowpanes isn’t real; it’s my favorite effect, and M.A.R.I.E. turns it on automatically now. But genuine or not, the harmony of rainfall and Saber’s measured breathing is tremendously soothing. I don’t know how long it’s been since I left His Majesty’s office, but long enough for our initial savage need to have slowly drained away, until we’re content to lie in each other’s arms, bodies flush, Saber’s hand gently stroking my arm.

  “I was certain you hated me,” I finally say, breaking the silence. He says nothing for a long while as my heart pounds, as I wait for him to confirm that this was nothing but a moment of stupidity, pity maybe, toward the girl who just got roughly handled by her affianced.

  “I don’t hate you. I hate him.”

  “The King?”

  Saber snorts. “Him, too. No, I meant Reginald. I hate him so much. And I hate that you work for him, and that you…that you do what you do,” he says, a quick glance at the ceiling telling me he’s remembering M.A.R.I.E.

  Probably wise. Wiser than what we just did potentially in front of the cameras.

  “Then why do you work for him? Why not walk away?”

  “Why don’t you leave the palace? Instead of doing what you’re doing?” he asks, turning it right back around to me in that uncomfortable way he has.

  “I can’t,” I answer defensively. “I’m still a minor; my mother won’t let me, and since all I have is a Sonoman-Versailles passport, I can’t go anywhere without her permission until I’m eighteen. And even if I were eighteen, where could I go? Do you think the Princess of England could just up and leave? Besides which, I have no—”

  “Shhh,” Saber says with a finger to my lips, cutting me off. “What you’re saying is that you have no choice, oui?”

  “Exactly,” I say, still a little bristly.

  “Neither do I.”

  “But—”

  “No choice,” Saber says, cutting me off again.

  I lay my head on his shoulder and try to understand his words. To understand how he could be trapped. But I don’t dare ask and risk disturbing the peace we’ve somehow found.

  “Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you?” Saber asks.

  I let out quite an unladylike snicker. “That I was desperate and insane?”

  “I guess technically the first time I saw you was in the catacombs. But I meant in the car. In Paris. The first time we met.”

  “Oh, that time. Hmmm,” I say, tapping my chin as though thinking quite hard. “You thought…that I was an evil, crazed witch?”

  Saber laughs, and when I hear the sound roll around in his chest, nothing seems half as awful as it did a few hours ago. “No,” he says. “You were incredible. I—I couldn’t breathe. No lie,” he adds when I make a sound of disbelief. “You were so beautiful and determined and—I was supposed to cajole you. Speak fancy to you and convince you I was Reginald, so you wouldn’t have to see his face.” He runs his fingers along my shoulder, and I have the urge to curl up and purr like a kitten. “But you made me speechless, and by the time I gathered myself together, you’d already figured out I wasn’t who you wanted to see.”

  “It wasn’t an insult,” I say, burrowing closer.

  “I know.” He turns his head and kisses my brow. “I’ve wanted to be near you ever since, and I fought it so hard because…” His voice trails off, and for a while I think he won’t finish. “Because I hate what you do.”

  “Does it help if I hate it too?” I ask, although a part of me wonders if that’s entirely true. I’ve been nurturing a burgeoning sense of pride at having built such a profitable business from nothing. And though I’d perish before admitting it aloud, the gleam of addiction I saw in Duchess Darzi’s eye the other night sent a thrill of success coursing through my veins.

  “Some,” Saber says, then yawns. “But you don’t hate it enough.”

  OPENING THIS NEW door with Saber has filled me with fresh resolve. I will meet Reginald’s price. In three weeks’ time, I will leave Sonoman-Versailles forever.

  And I’m going to take Saber with me. Take him away from Reginald.

  There’s much to do. As I look over my coded report of Glitter orders from Lady Ebele, I realize that my suggestion to Duchess Darzi—that she pawn her unwanted jewels to fund her habit—resulted not only in a surge of new
orders, but an increase in demand from my existing clientèle.

  “They were probably being careful,” Saber says when I ask him. “Scrimping, I guess. Tossing cash around, even going through the exchange process at the bank here in the palace, gets noticed.”

  “So they were buying as little as possible, and now that they’ve realized there’s a black market for cash, they’re…stocking up?”

  “You’ve given them a way to buy greater quantities secretly.” He glances my way and then averts his eyes. “They’ve got to realize they need more now.”

  I sober, my shoulders slumping a bit. I’m sitting atop my father’s enormous desk, gown hiked up and wrapped around my hips like a silky nest. With the doors closed in case my mother wanders by, the hot plate Saber is using to mix product imparts a bit more warmth to the room than M.A.R.I.E. ordinarily permits.

  I swallow hard and answer his query. “Yes, I assume some of them must be catching on. But I haven’t heard any discussion on the matter.”

  “That’s because they assume you’re using as well,” Saber says, gesturing vaguely toward my glittering eye shadow. “They think you’re all sharing the secret.”

  “I’m not sure how any of them could consider this a secret.” I indicate the rows and rows of gloss pots Saber has just finished pouring, sitting on the windowsill to set. “Hundreds. Every day. I’m pretty sure even the King knows I’m selling Glitter at this point. It’s one of my biggest concerns. I’m trusting an awful lot of people. Rather less-than-sober people.”

  Saber finishes wiping his hands on a towel and tosses it onto the desk beside me. “There’s a sense of…naughtiness,” he says, standing between my crisscrossed knees and placing his hands on the skin just above my lacy garters, “an appeal in the forbidden.” He dips his head closer to mine, and his hands slide smoothly upward. “There’s also”—his lips brush mine, ever so softly—“an allure in the mysterious. People might know that there’s a mystery, but they also know that solving it might force an end to the naughtiness.” He grasps my bottom lip very gently between his teeth for a moment. “And what fun would that be?”

  “Mmmm, no fun at all,” I agree, kissing him fully, feeling his hands move higher still. This room has become our personal sanctuary in precisely the same way it’s been my safe place for Glitter. There’s much work to be done, that’s true, but it’s possible we’ve spent more time here than is strictly necessary these last few days.

  Saber raises his hand to my neck, tipping my head to deepen his kiss, and with his sleeves rolled up I see again the dark tattoo that spans his left forearm. “Someday I’m going to find out what that means,” I say breathlessly.

  “I certainly hope not,” he replies, pulling one of my legs free to wrap about his waist.

  I’m floating so high on the sensations of Saber’s body against mine that I’m uncertain how I hear the warning rattle of the doorknob, but I do—and I push Saber from me with a gasp, tossing my skirts back over my legs as my mother walks in. I snap my spine straight but can’t imagine she’s fooled.

  “I’ve been sent to retrieve you,” she says testily. “The King’s been trying to summon you for nearly half an hour. What, precisely, have you been doing?” She glares at me, and I can’t tell if my heart is racing or has ceased to beat altogether. “Why are you not wearing your Lens?”

  “I got something in my eye,” I lie. Badly. “I took it out. It’s in Father’s bathroom.”

  “You are the Queen-to-be, Dani. You cannot frolic about off the grid. Beyond being exceptionally inconvenient for His Highness, it’s not safe.” The way her eyes studiously avoid flickering over to Saber tells me exactly what sort of “danger” she has in mind.

  My mother has always had a talent for making me feel like a tiny, awkward child, and to be dressed down so thoroughly in front of Saber makes everything worse. Every nerve in my body begs me to scream at her even as my ability to form actual coherent sentences flees.

  “I fear ’tis my fault, my lady,” Saber says, dropping into a deep, flourishing bow. “I suggested that Her Highness rest her eye after her ordeal with the Lens. It was quite reddened.” He reaches out and turns my chin, as though I were a poodle on display, and says cheerfully, “Ah! Observe. The eye looks quite well now.”

  I’m astounded. In ten seconds Saber has managed to change from himself into a subservient, fussing employee. Even his speech—though just a touch stilted—was convincing enough.

  My mother, however, doesn’t appear pacified in the least. “You,” she says, turning to Saber as he slips back into his livery jacket. “Dani’s new secretary. His Majesty doesn’t like you, and neither do I. I’ve already set a meeting to discuss your termination with Human Resources. Until then, endeavor to stay out of my sight.”

  “Of course, my lady,” he says with another bow. I’m ashamed at myself for not coming to his rescue the way he did for me.

  Then Mother glances around the room, aware for the first time of something other than Saber and me. “What’s going on here?”

  At last, something I have a prepared answer for. “I’m handcrafting some cosmetics for a few intimate friends. I’ve been doing so for weeks.”

  My mother is staring at the two hundred pots, and her brow wrinkles in concentration. Before she can think about it too hard, I say, “You must be aware how much bribery it’s going to take for the right people to accept me.”

  “Don’t say bribery, Dani. It’s vulgar.”

  “You know what I mean, though,” I press. “In fact, I have a parcel of these being sent over to Duchess Darzi this afternoon. We spoke the other day, and she’s expecting them.” Entirely truth.

  My mother stands still, her eyes glued to me. I’ve invoked the name of the highest-ranking woman in the entire court. It’s not in my mother’s nature to let such a remark pass without contemplating how it might be turned to her advantage.

  I use her moment of indecision to reassert my authority. “I’ve taken great pains these last few months to become a favorite of the court. You can do all the arranging you like, but if the social hierarchy at the palace doesn’t accept me, it won’t much matter that I’m the King’s wife, will it?”

  “True,” she replies after a long pause, then bristles and straightens, shaking a finger at me. “But you do have an appointment. Put in your Lens and let’s be on our way.”

  “Certainly,” I say, dropping her a very shallow curtsy before turning to slip my shoes back on so I can walk down the hallway to the washroom.

  “Where’s your father?” my mother asks, still staring too intently for my comfort at the Glitter on the sideboard.

  “Napping.” By which we both know I mean lying on his bed in a blissful stupor.

  “As usual,” she mutters.

  I’m loath to leave Saber alone with her, but there isn’t anything else I can do, so I hurry instead, coming back down the hallway less than a minute later with a linen cloth, still dabbing at the saline under my eye and trying not to smudge my eyeliner. “Where are we headed, Mother?” I ask as I burst into the room, heedless of whether or not I’m interrupting.

  She looks away from the grid of lip gloss, and I can practically hear the cogs in her brain grinding out hypotheses concerning the true nature of my activities here. The best I can do is get her out of the vicinity before she manages to formulate anything too close to the truth. “Your chambers,” she says after a long pause.

  I ignore the com notifications blinking at the corner of my vision. I don’t have time to sort through them now; I need to keep all of my attention on my mother. Muting the incoming messages with a blink, I raise my brows and stare haughtily at Saber, knowing that after our adventures Sunday night he’ll understand it’s naught but an act. “You can tidy up here, can’t you?”

  “Of course, Highness,” he says with a bow, slipping easily into his role.

  “Good. Meet me in my chambers when you’ve finished. We’ll plan my ensemble for tonight. Oh, and see that these
are delivered where they belong. You’re a good chap.” I tap his shoulder with my fan, hoping I haven’t gone too far over the top. But my mother pivots and leads the way out of the study, giving me a chance to cast Saber a grateful look.

  In the atrium, I reach for my valise on the table by the front door and stop my mother’s forward movement with a light finger on her shoulder. “A moment, if you please,” I say, pulling on my gloves. “I don’t mind granting you precedence in your own home—you are my mother, after all—but that door,” I say, pointing to the main entrance of our apartments, “is in full view of anyone who might happen to be passing by. I’m the future Queen of Sonoman-Versailles, and it would be disgraceful for anyone to witness you presuming to precede me out of a room.”

  It’s a petty scrap of vengeance, but I savor it. My mother thinks herself the mistress of this elaborate scheme, but her own actions have put me in a position of power over her. I’m not the biddable, helpless daughter I was six months ago—I’m an international celebrity and soon to reign as Queen.

  We glide in silence for a fair while, the whisper of our skirts on the marble floor our only accompaniment. “I know what’s going on,” my mother says in a soft voice.

  “Do share,” I reply, keeping my voice calm, though my stomach instantly feels sick. I have far too many secrets for a sentence such as that to sit well with me.

  “You and that secretary,” she says, like the word tastes foul in her mouth.

  “Everyone dallies with their staff.” It’s not the Glitter. I can fob off her other suspicions as long as she doesn’t know about the Glitter.

  “You can’t afford to.”

  “I don’t see why not. My affianced has made little secret of his own infidelity. You of all people should know that this isn’t a love match, whatever the illusion His Royal Highness has decided to cast.”

  “But he is trying to cast it. You’d be unwise to disrupt his plans.”