Read Lions in the Garden Page 6


  “But Rudolf hates his brother Matthias.”

  “He does.”

  “My father and Radek would never go against Rudolf. That would be treason,” I whispered, but deep down I knew how devoted they were to the Catholic Church and to the Habsburg lineage. Hadn’t I already heard something of the sort being discussed between them?

  “I mean no disrespect to your father. I only meant to warn you about Radek because he seems fascinated by you. That’s all. This wasn’t the conversation I’d hoped to have with you tonight.”

  “What conversation did you hope to have?”

  He shrugged. “I just wanted to see you again. I figured there would be hundreds of people at the castle tomorrow night and I might not have the chance to spend time with you like I wanted.”

  My face grew hot.

  “Was it all right that I asked to meet tonight?” Mark searched my face.

  I nodded.

  “Good,” Marc said. “When I told Henrik I was going to the castle to see you, he said I had a death wish. He said the king would personally hang me.”

  “No, the king is a kind man. He’d be happy that you appreciated his new device.”

  “Are you close with him?”

  “Not really.”

  “But you know the king.”

  I nodded. “Rudolf doesn’t come around as much as he used to. It must be hard to rule a kingdom when everyone is constantly trying to undermine you.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “The king thought I would enjoy the instrument because he thinks I’m a lot like my mother. Apparently, they were extremely close.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shrugged. “She died a long time ago.” I spoke quickly, before the mental pictures of my mother’s dead body floating in the bloody tub could surface. “My mother came with the king from Spain when Rudolf chose Prague as the imperial seat of the Holy Roman Empire. Rudolf always told me that he enjoyed my mother’s company. He claimed no one was smarter than her.” I smiled, remembering lazy days in the library with my mother, but then I pushed that image out of my head.

  She didn’t want to be with you. Good riddance.

  “She sounds lovely,” Marc said.

  “What about your mother?”

  “She died giving birth to Jiri.” His hands hung casually by his sides as he stretched out across the stairs. He sighed. “I was only three, so I don’t really remember her. Sometimes it’s hard to recall what she looked like.”

  I had trouble remembering my mother, too. Whenever I thought about her, only the images of her brutal death surfaced. I’d give anything to see her alive again—to see her smiling. Or at least to ask her in person why she’d felt the need to kill herself.

  “Are you all right?” Marc asked.

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  Marc hadn’t asked how my mother died. He probably already knew, or had at least heard, about her death, but he was kind enough not to press for details.

  The scandal had spread through the kingdom like wildfire—the chancellor’s beautiful wife offing herself in the bathtub while she still had a little girl to take care of. It was the court’s favorite kind of gossip—shocking with a bit of violence and blood. Gruesome castle deaths were a Prague specialty.

  I didn’t know Marc very well, but I had the urge to tell him about my mother. How even though I longed for her, I hated her for leaving me.

  I hated her more than anything.

  Voices rose from the grounds below. I shot to my feet. “We should leave. If they catch you—”

  “I’ll hang?” Marc grinned. “Let’s go.”

  I helped Marc sneak out of the castle in the middle of the night. He lithely climbed over the towering fence. When he landed on the other side, he reached for my hand through the bars and kissed it. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Mila.”

  “Good night, Marc.” Our secret encounter sent butterflies though my stomach, but as I watched him through the bars, I couldn’t help but think he looked like he was in a prison cell.

  Chapter Six

  Rudolf II may not have been interested in the current affairs of the state, but the king knew how to throw a party. The ballroom, constructed of golden domed walls supported by enormous pillars resembling giant trees, was crowded with Prague’s elite. Flame eaters performed on towering circular stages. Aerial trapeze artists swung from the ceilings and flipped in the air from partner to partner.

  One entire wall was lined with a table piled high with food—sweet cakes, tarts, mangos, oranges, meat pies, shrimp, crabs, and veal. Wine flowed from fountains. Expensive silk gowns—the latest fashions from Vienna—twirled on the dance floor to the sounds of the twenty-man orchestra.

  The king was absent from his throne (he probably wouldn’t attend his own ball), but my father stood with the other members of court, deep in conversation. By the flush of angry color on his neck, I knew the talk was of the Protestant uprising.

  I was annoyed with my father’s insistence that I wear one of Radek’s dresses. After a spectacle of an argument, during which Branka stood treacherously silent, we had agreed on a compromise—I would wear one of the Vienna dresses, but I refused to wear Radek’s favorite blue gown.

  I opted instead for an emerald green satin dress with black lacing on the bodice. The gown hung off the shoulders and cinched tightly at the waist—so tight that my corset was already digging into my ribs and the night had just begun. The skirt wasn’t as full as the traditional Bohemian style, but it flared out slightly from my hips. It was a lovely gown, but dreadfully heavy.

  I hid behind an enormous column and searched the crowd. I couldn’t deny that I was searching for Marc in the crowd of nobles. My eyes slid over the other ladies of Rudolf’s court gathered near the edge of the dance floor. Whispering about the latest castle gossip was the last way I wanted to spend my evening.

  I rose to my toes to see over the hundreds of people surrounding me, and that’s when I saw him. He was hard to miss. The Sýkora brothers were almost head-and-shoulders taller than everyone else in the room. Excitement fluttered deep in my stomach as I watched Marc glide through the crowded ballroom.

  Women stared at the three of them from the corners of their eyes or from behind lowered lashes. Henrik and Jiri acknowledged them. Marc was focused forward. His movements were swift and deliberate. He scanned the ballroom until he found me.

  A smile claimed his face and I couldn’t help but grin back.

  Marc bowed. “Mila, you look beautiful. The green looks lovely against your skin.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you came. Hello, Henrik. Jiri.”

  Henrik and Jiri bowed. “Lady Nováková.”

  Jiri’s sandy brown hair fell into his eyes. He looked nothing like his brothers, other than his towering size. After we exchanged pleasantries and had a slice of cake—the Sýkora brothers had never tasted sweet bread before—Henrik and Jiri excused themselves and wandered into the crowd.

  “I never thought I’d be at one of Rudolf’s parties.” Marc glanced around the room.

  “It’s been a long time since the king threw one. When I was a child all I ever heard about were Rudolf’s lavish celebrations.”

  “This is certainly lavish. There’s enough food in this room to feed the city for a month. Let’s go over there.” He laid a hand gently on my forearm.

  I tried to ignore the sparks that accompanied his touch. It lasted only a second, but the warmth of his caress lingered on my skin like a burn. How could such a simple gesture ignite such a reaction in me?

  We moved into the crowded ballroom and stopped behind an enormous golden pillar near the back. An acrobat swung high overhead and flipped in the air to his soaring partner.

  “Did you get any sleep last night?” Marc asked.

  “A little. You?”

  “Not really. Henrik was already welding when I got back to the shop. I felt bad about leaving him all the work, so I couldn’t go to sleep. I managed to sneak in a late nap,
though.”

  “What did Henrik say about you staying out all night?”

  Marc leaned against the column. “Henrik tends to keep his opinions to himself.”

  “He doesn’t like me?”

  “No, he thinks you’re wonderful. It’s me that he’s taking issue with. Henrik thinks I’m being dumb—Your admirer has officially arrived.”

  “What?”

  I looked in the direction Marc had indicated, but I wasn’t tall enough. I craned my neck and saw Radek wading through the crowd, bowing and kissing hands. I sank back down before he could see me.

  Marc chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you want me to go find my brothers? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Do you think we can make a run for it to the astronomy tower? Undetected?”

  I sighed. “Probably not.”

  Marc lowered his head. His eyes sparkled.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You are dangerous.”

  “Me?” I breathed. “Dangerous?” We were huddled together again, engrossed in each other’s company despite all the activity around us.

  “Very. Seeing Radek again makes me remember how I felt yesterday in Vladislav Hall.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Radek led you away, I had to stop myself from chasing after you.” Marc’s words were calm but rugged. “The thought of him touching you makes me sick. I wanted to rip your hand from his and—”

  A trumpet fanfare blasted through the room.

  Everyone turned toward the throne to listen to the royal announcement, but we stayed huddled together. Marc blinked, releasing a small sigh, and the spell was broken. We stepped away from the column and moved behind the gathering crowd.

  We stood close, but not touching. His arm grazed mine and his hand hung loosely by his side like an open invitation. I wanted to touch him, but I couldn’t. Not here. Not with all of these eyes on me.

  I was so engrossed in Marc’s nearness that I hadn’t realized what was happening. The crowd’s collective gaze followed something, but Marc and I were too far back to see. Excitement filled the ballroom, but it was different from what was happening between the blacksmith’s son and me.

  A lady in a flowing purple gown in front of us whispered to an older woman beside her, “He’s coming this way.”

  “Straighten your posture.”

  “Do you think he’ll pick me?” The lady grinned.

  Marion’s trumpet sounded again. “Radek IV, Duke of Prucha, will now select a partner for the first royal dance of the evening.”

  My heart sank.

  “Lift your chin,” the older woman said to the lady.

  I lowered my head and hoped to vanish on the spot. My eyes traced the swirl in the marble floor. The dizzying design added to the light-headedness that had arrived with Marion’s announcement.

  Marc stiffened beside me.

  “He’s coming this way,” the girl whispered. “He’s so handsome! What I wouldn’t give to run my hand through that blond hair.”

  “Tatiana!”

  “Sorry, Momma.”

  I wouldn’t lift my head. Maybe if I didn’t make eye contact, Radek wouldn’t pick me. I calculated my chances of grabbing Marc’s hand and running away, but the old woman’s sharp intake of breath sealed my fate. Her dull gray skirt and her daughter’s deep purple dress moved aside, parting like the sea.

  A pair of expensive shoes stopped in front of me.

  My face felt hot. I squeezed my trembling hands together, unable to look up at Radek. Marc stood as still as a statue beside me.

  “Lady Ludmila Nováková, may I have this dance?”

  No.

  My eyes rose.

  Radek’s white-gloved palm was extended. Hushed whispers swam across the crowd. What would happen if I said no? Shame on my father? Punishment from the court? Marc’s “accidental” death?

  He waited for me to accept.

  I watched my hand—the one I’d longed for Marc to touch—traitorously lift from my side and fall into Radek’s white glove. My knees bent in a curtsy.

  Marc became the blazing sun. He radiated such brightness that I couldn’t help but see and feel him beside me, but he was too dangerous to actually gaze at. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t trust that I could control the emotions that would undoubtedly flash across my face.

  Radek brought the back of my hand to his lips and kissed it. The surrounding women swooned. The duke escorted me through the crowd and onto the empty dance floor. I felt cold, as if the farther I moved away from Marc, the farther I shifted from the warmth of sunlight and into a dark shadow.

  The royal orchestra played as we walked across the dance floor. I wasn’t confident that I was physically capable of dancing. We bowed to each other and, in that moment, I became one of those prized Bohemian puppets. A marionette with strings attached to its limbs, forced to move by some unknown puppeteer behind the curtain. A royal pawn, but who was pulling my strings?

  I peeked at my father’s proud smile. King Rudolf II had unexpectedly appeared on the throne. Even the king, with his perpetually bored face, seemed content.

  “My dress looks remarkable on you.” Radek twirled me across the marble floor in dizzying circles.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “I would’ve preferred the blue one, but the green is agreeable as well. Was that the blacksmith standing with you? The one from Vladislav Hall?” It was a casual question, but I was no fool. I’d officially entered dangerous territory.

  Radek raised his eyebrows.

  “I think you know that answer,” I replied.

  “Careful,” he warned.

  I swallowed down a retort.

  “You’re not to see him anymore, Ludmila,” Radek whispered.

  “What? Why?”

  “I think you know that answer.” He threw my words back at me, but he didn’t appear angry. And why would he be? The duke always got what he wanted.

  The music stopped, but he kept a strong grip on my hand. My palm sweated against his stiff glove. I scanned the crowd for Marc. He stood in the back of the room near our pillar, but he wasn’t watching me. He was focused on something behind me.

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  Marion, the king’s aide, was about to make another announcement. Was it time for the revealing of the crown jewels? Why were we still standing here? I waited for Radek to lead me away, but we remained in the middle of the dance floor. All eyes were locked on us.

  Marion straightened his shoulders. “Rudolf II, the Holy Roman Emperor and King of Bohemia, is delighted to announce the engagement of Radek IV, Duke of Prucha, and Lady Ludmila Nováková, daughter of Václav Novák, High Chancellor of the Kingdom of Bohemia.”

  I sucked in a gulp of air. Marion’s words repeated in my head until they were no longer recognizable. All sound ceased. Radek kissed my hand again, but I was numb to the gesture. My ears plugged. I swallowed, and it sounded like an explosion when the roar of the crowd returned. I inhaled through my nose as the vast ballroom suddenly became suffocating.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Radek’s face filled my vision. “I wanted the announcement to be a surprise, but I had to speed up my efforts once I heard that the oaf Lord Otto wanted your hand. I assured your father that night that I was the man for you.” He secured a substantial diamond necklace around my throat. “This is a token of my affection and a symbol of my desire for you to become my wife and the Duchess of Prucha.”

  Wife.

  Duchess of Prucha.

  Radek led me off the dance floor. My father animatedly gestured to the king—all smiles and laughs. Did anyone see me? Notice me? Could they all be that oblivious? Or did they simply not care?

  A puppet on a string.

  We stood to the right of the throne and faced the crowd. Faces blurred before me. A sea of eyes and mouths blended into one horrific wall of onlookers. Radek gripped my hand like he was
afraid I’d run away the moment he let go.

  I probably would have.

  Marion cleared his throat and the crowd went silent again. “King Rudolf II is pleased to present to the people of Prague the crown jewels of the Holy Roman Empire.”

  The room buzzed with excitement. Four men ceremoniously carried a chest sitting on top of a giant purple pillow. The guards placed the trunk of jewels on a table, revealing a dazzling pile of diamonds, rubies, and gold coins. More important, among the heaps of jewelry were the official crown jewels, which were revealed to the kingdom only once every seven years—the crown of Saint Wenceslas, the royal orb, the scepter, and the coronation vestments of the King of Bohemia, including the golden cross and Saint Wenceslas’s sword.

  As the crowd oohed and aahed over the treasure, I couldn’t slow my breathing. It came in quick, rapid breaths that made me dizzy. I hadn’t looked at him yet—I was afraid to. I swallowed my fear and scanned the crowd. Marc stood in the back of the room. Henrik had moved beside him.

  Marc’s face was blank. Again, there was no show of emotion. Was he angry? Sad? Did he care about my engagement? Or maybe I was only one in a long line of “ladies” he’d shown affection for.

  Our eyes finally met, and from all the way across the ballroom, I saw the hurt flash across his handsome face. Only for a second. Then Marc turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  My head throbbed as the residents of Prague salivated over the crown jewels. It was too much. Engaged to Radek. Diamonds. Jewels. Marc’s face. A cold sweat broke out over my forehead. A puppet on royal strings. My dress was too tight. I couldn’t breathe. Blackness ebbed my sight.

  I was my mother.

  Radek frowned. “You don’t look well.”

  I blinked twice before my vision went black.

  My eyes fluttered open to Branka’s round face. “Quite a night, my love.”

  I sat up. I didn’t recognize the room, but luckily we were alone. The cold, hard diamonds secured around my neck brought me back to my horrible reality. “I fainted.”

  “That you did.” Branka pressed a cold rag to my forehead. “I explained to the duke that you were too overcome with happiness at the unexpected announcement of your betrothal.” She frowned. “I figured you’d want to be alone for a bit. I promised Radek I’d watch over you as you rested.”