The Apollo, page 16
Since she was already standing up, Avira figured she might pursue the dresses Adipe had brought for her. One of these would be the dress she wore to meet Gavriel.
She shuddered at the thought of him. He was handsome in the way a lion is a handsome beast. His eyes were intense but not like Matteo’s, that held so much care and thought, his eyes were intense like a snake’s.
The first dress was a burnt orange color. She pulled it on and struggled with the long and fluffy sleeves. She felt like one of the exotic flowers Adipe had kept stocked in her gardens.
Avira knew that all of these dresses required a corset, but she chose not to worry about one since that required assistance from at least two servants, and she didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Besides, if she was to spend a month married to Gavriel while awaiting rescue, she would have to wear a corset daily. Avira figured it was worthwhile to soak up every last moment she could in her trousers.
Strangely, she felt more nervous about returning to her life on Alvanii for a month than she had about leaving that same life forever to journey on The Apollo.
It was almost funny now how quickly her great adventure had come and gone. She could only pray that Adipe would be true to her word and save her from Gavriel when the time was right. Avira didn’t particularly enjoy feeling like a damsel but what choice did she have?
The second dress she tried on was her favorite of the lot, though she knew she could never wear it for Gavriel. It was a deep blue, and while it had the unmistakable hoop skirt of Alvanian fashion, it was clearly designed by a Shaheeni seamstress who didn’t much care for tight clothing. She took it off quickly, knowing the lack of shape in the bodice would be a turn-off for Gavriel. And, at this point, the only real weapon she had against him was what she wore.
The third dress was bright yellow and made Avira’s pale skin look sickly and green. She didn’t even bother to tie the bodice up all the way before deciding against it.
Dress number four was a brilliant red and covered in beads. It was so gaudy that Avira, with her short hair and simple face, looked like she was being eaten alive.
She was still wearing the red dress when a knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Avira called out as she tried to get the bodice on straight. She wasn’t confident that she didn’t have the whole thing on backward.
“You look so beautiful!” Mirjana’s voice startled Avira.
“Is that how everyone in Alvanii dresses? It’s incredible.”
“I’d personally much rather we all wore pants like yours.”
Mirjana had stars in her eyes. “I’d love to wear a dress like that someday. You look like a princess from a storybook.”
Avira didn’t feel like it was a good moment to point out that Mirjana was actually a princess. Instead, she held out a hand and said, “Would you like to try on one of these? I don’t need all of them.”
Avira went to the rack and pulled the yellow one down. She felt it would look stunning with Mirjana’s dark hair and eyes.
“You can slide it on right over your trousers. And I’ll help with the corset.”
Mirjana looked positively elated. They slid the dress over her head, and Avira got to work lacing up the back. She was far more coordinated when helping someone else put on a gown than when putting on her own. When they were finished, Mirjana ran to the mirror and did a spin.
“I can’t believe people really get to dress like this every day,” Mirjana squealed a bit as she spoke. “When I am Queen of Shaheen, I’ll hold massive stately balls so I can wear gowns too. I’ll invite you, if you like. My mother’s all but given up on alliances with Alvanii, but I like to think there’s still hope. There are noblemen in Alvanii and Veronii. You must have some royal family.”
“Yes, but they spent all their money years ago. Now they rely on men like my father to support our economy.”
“So,” Mirjana pressed, “if you think about it, you’re practically a real-life princess too!”
Avira laughed. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d giggled like this. It had to have been days ago, if not weeks. Perhaps it was with Matteo, but she couldn’t pinpoint a time.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“It’s just that you really are a princess, Mirjana. Sometimes I wonder if you forget that.”
Mirjana just shrugged. “Princesses in storybooks are never lonely. I feel lonely all the time. It’s customary for the royal family only to have one child and, if you think about it, that makes sense. They don’t want anyone going to war over the crown. But, I don’t even have a single cousin or child my age to play with. I feel more like a prisoner than a princess.”
Then something caught Mirjana’s eye. “Oh look! Jasmine!” She ran to the window where the cluster of flowers bloomed and plucked it without thinking. “Avira, will you put this in my hair?”
Smiling softly, Avira did as she was told. She tucked the jasmine in with Mirjana’s braids.
“You look beautiful, Miri.”
Mirjana’s face changed again as though she’d suddenly remembered something significant.
“I didn’t come in here to play dress up.” Mirjana hiked up her skirt and began, almost comically, trying to find the pockets of her pants. She was searching for something but every time she shifted her body, the dress bubbled up in a different direction creating more obstacles.
“Damn this Alvanian fashion. It’s absurd,” she muttered under her breath, which made Avira smile again.
Finally, Mirjana found what she was looking for and pulled it from her pocket. She straightened her skirt and extended her arm to Avira. In her hand was a small knife. It had a thin blade and a golden handle decorated with tiny flowers sculpted of gold.
“I wanted to give you a bigger one, but I worried my mother might notice it was gone. This was my first dagger. My father gave it to me to protect myself against bad men.”
Avira gave a knowing nod. She took the knife from Mirjana’s hand. It was heavier than it looked.
“I know you’re not supposed to kill Gavriel. I know we’re supposed to sign a treaty with him. But if he tries to hurt you Avira, please don’t let him.”
The child’s eyes had a glimmer of maturity that Avira had never noticed before. Avira set the knife down and embraced her in a hug.
“I won’t let him hurt me, Mirjana.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Mirjana pulled away, a little smile on her lips.
“What do you think,” Avira said. “Should I wear this dress to meet him?”
Mirjana shook her head and returned to the shelf where two dresses sat untouched.
“What about this one?”
Mirjana held in her hands a slim-fitting, sky-blue gown. It hadn’t looked like much on the rack, but Avira could now see it had silver threads woven in to make it sparkle. It reminded her of The Mirage.
Avira slid the red dress off, and Mirjana helped her tie up the bodice of the blue one. It fit perfectly. Instead of puffing out like a pastry, it stayed close to her hips until her knees and became loose fitting. Its long sleeves trumpeted at the ends and stretched to the floor. It wasn’t a typical Alvanian style, but it looked phenomenal on Avira’s petite frame.
Avira started grinning as soon as she looked in the mirror. Partially from joy and partially from how absolutely ridiculous her hair looked.
“What are we going to do with my hair?”
Mirjana scrunched her nose. And then she clearly had an idea and bolted out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with Fela and a jewelry box filled with silver hair baubles. One was a thin circle that sat perfectly on top of Avira’s head. It popped against her dark hair perfectly
“You look absolutely stunning, Avira,” Fela said with a complimentary nod toward Mirjana.
They had just finished putting together the look, Avira feeling more girly than she had in years when a firm knock shook the door. Mirjana opened it up wide, revealing Matteo.
“Where’s Avira?”
“She doesn’t want to see you, remember?
His voice was urgent: “I need to talk to her.”
Avira stepped forward, putting herself in his line of view. She saw his mouth drop open and realized this was the first time he’d seen her in a gown, much less a dress that she felt beautiful in.
His dark eyes darted from Avira to Mirjana and then back to Avira. She felt a pull within her. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and ask for his advice. She clenched her fists tightly, not wanting to give in to the softness she felt for Matteo. She could not be soft or delicate or fragile. Not today. Not tomorrow. Perhaps not ever. There was no longer space for that in her life and she didn’t particularly mind that.
“What do you want, Matteo?” The moment she spoke, her voice cracked awkwardly.
Where were those voice cracks when he was pretending to be a boy back on The Apollo? They would have come in handy.
“Can we talk?”
“No.” Avira gritted her teeth, painfully aware of Mirjana and Fela’s eyes watching her every move. Mirjana wanted to believe in their love story. But Avira could not give the child her fairytale ending.
“Now, now,” Matteo begged, “I see you have company. You look beautiful, by the way.”
Avira shook her head. Matteo took her hands in his, his skin surprisingly soft upon hers.
She felt the familiar feeling of a heat flickering through her body, radiating out from the places where he touched her. She gritted her teeth, begging herself to be stronger.
Matteo leaned in, his nose pressed into her hair and his lips just brushing her ear. She could feel the warmth of his breath like a summer wind.
“Meet me in the garden at midnight,” he whispered.
“Don’t beg, Matteo. The time for begging has long since passed-”
Matteo squeezed her hands even tighter, this time so tight she let out a small gasp.
“Meet me at midnight.”
He wasn’t begging. He was commanding. It was so unlike him to do so that Avira
stepped back, pulling her hands from his. She gave a silent nod, promising without words that she would be there. And he turned on his heels and left her standing in the doorway, jaw slacked and hands empty.
She turned back around, her eyes wide like a doe’s. Fela took her hand and walked her to the chair. She sat, hunched over in her seat like an old woman, not worried about wrinkling the satin of her gown, and hung her head in her hands.
Chapter twenty-eight
Midnight came and went, leaving Matteo standing alone beneath a magnolia tree that bloomed with the radiance of a sunrise. There was a bench beneath the tree, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit. He walked in slow, silent circles, wearing a path through the grass from the pattern of his stride.
It had to be ten after midnight by now, of course, he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t stand the thought of going back to his rooms, of admitting to himself that Avira would not be coming to meet him. Next to the bench, Matteo had hidden a small bag he’d stuffed with as much as would fit. He’d managed to snag a few oranges and lemons from the kitchen, some money, an extra tunic and a scarf to keep his face safe from the sands and the wind of the desert should he need. Most of what he owned had been left behind upon The Apollo. And the only thing he truly cared to bring with him was an ebony haired girl who did not appear to be coming along.
After what felt like another hour of waiting, Matteo slammed his fist into the trunk of the magnolia tree as hard as he could. He felt the crack of his knuckles and the heat of blood across his dry skin as petals fell from the boughs above down onto him like sick, starlit confetti.
“Matteo?” A voice called through the garden. He looked up, desperately searching for the owner of the voice. He’d have known it anywhere.
“Matteo, what is wrong with you?”
Avira strode out of the darkness wearing only a silver silk nightgown and a dark blue wrap around her shoulders. She looked as dainty as the flowers that filled the garden, but her eyes were stern and dark, filled with fear.
He ran to her. He couldn’t help himself. He wrapped her in his arms and held tight, breathing in the smell of her hair and the softness of the air all around her.
She did not hug him back.
“What did you need to talk to me about?” She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him away, forcing him to step at least an arm’s distance back.
Matteo opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He didn’t know where to begin, what the best words were to say what he needed to tell her. They’d felt so clear in his mind just moments before but now they were about as clear as honey and twice as murky.
“Matteo?” The apprehension in Avira’s voice scared him. At any moment she could turn around and leave him there. She didn’t have to come out to the garden. She could go at any time.
“Run away with me.” His voice was barely a squeak, as soft as a little mouse.
“What?” It wasn’t clear if Avira was asking this because she didn’t know what he said or because she didn’t understand why he would say it.
“Run away with me,” Matteo said again. “My bags are packed. We could go now and have Shaheen behind us by dawn. I don’t have much money but I think there’s enough for us to charter two camels and get across the desert. We could go to Irajmi, escape your father for good.”
Avira sucked in her breath, her hair floated around her head like a halo caught upon a warm breeze that rushed through the garden. It was like the garden was gasping alongside Avira.
“What makes you think my father won’t find us in Irajmi?”
Matteo furrowed his brow.
“We could travel to the end of the earth in any direction, he would find us eventually. And then he would kill you. He’d gut you right there in front of my eyes and then he’d make me marry Gavriel anyway. There is no use running from him.”
“You don’t believe that!” Matteo protested. He was suddenly aware of the blood dripping along his fist. The pain felt a million miles away now.
“My father is a powerful man.”
“The Avira I love doesn’t believe that.”
Avira snapped, “The Avira you love is a figment of your imagination. She is a dream. She will be gone like morning mist as soon as you come to your senses.”
Her words hurt Matteo more than the gashes on his hand. They twisted in his stomach and burned in his ears.
“I am offering to abandon everything for you, Avira. My work as a detective, the only family I’ve ever known, I would give it all up if you would just go with me now.”
Avira cocked her head sideways, looking somewhat like a bird. “What do you mean family? You don’t have a family.”
If she felt bad for saying this, Avira didn’t show it. Her face was stoic, her jaw locked tight.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that this doesn’t have to be our story. We can go, tell a new story. Live a new life!”
“It does matter, Matteo! I want to know what you’re talking about. It’s not fair of you to tell me you’re leaving everything behind for me and then not explain what that means.”
“I’m Shaheeni!” The words burst from Matteo like an explosion. “My mother was part of the royal family. I am part of the royal family. But I’d give that all up if it meant I could live a life with you, if it meant you didn’t have to go up there and give yourself to Gavriel tomorrow. You are not just a piece on a chess board, Avira.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Avira’s words were venomous. She began pacing around the garden, walking in the same futile circle Matteo had become so familiar with only minutes before.
Without warning, she stopped in her tracks, turning to him with an unmistakable fire in her eyes. “You’re related to the queen.” Avira stomped the ground and gestured to the palace all around them. “She trusts you. She sees you as family. And you would betray her for me? You would walk away from all this just for some Alvanian heiress who doesn’t even love you back. I knew you were a coward, Matteo, but you’re a traitor too.”
It was rare that Matteo saw any semblance of her father in Avira. But this was one of those rare moments. Staring into her eyes as she ripped right into his soul was like looking into the eyes of Grigori Bianco himself.
“You love me back,” was all Matteo could bring himself to say. “You do.”
“Even if I did, Matteo, how could I ever trust someone like you to be loyal to me? You’ll abandon your people when they need you most. What makes you think I could trust you? There is no love without trust.”
Matteo kicked the grass in frustration, boiling over with emotion. "Don't you understand, Avira?" He shouted. "I would chase down the stars for you!"
Avira looked around the garden, her eyes sad, her lips pulled together in a stern frown. Tears has begun to well up in her eyes. “You cannot ask me to love you if I cannot trust you. It would be like asking a flower to grow with no sunshine.”
Matteo instinctually reached out to touch her face. She pulled away quickly, stepping even farther away from him.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay.” She whispered to him.
“I don’t know if I can watch you give yourself to Gavriel like that.”
“It’s not permanent. Adipe will come save me.”
Matteo let a laugh escape his lips. “So, you’ll trust her with your future but you won’t trust me?”
“I guess not.”
And with that Avira turned and walked back inside, leaving Matteo alone once again in the garden. He felt the muscles in his throat tighten. He wanted to hit the tree again but just as he pulled his fist back to strike, every ounce of energy escaped his body. He deflated. And finally, he sat down.
An hour or so passed, perhaps even more. Matteo heard something stirring in the garden next to him. Footsteps, perhaps. He didn’t care. He could tell they were not Avira and if it was not her returning to apologize for crushing his heart, he didn’t want to see. He kept his head hung low until, at some point, he became aware of a calming presence next to him. Then, the sound of doves cooing filled his ears. He looked up, confused and curious.
