The day passed without Ruslan speaking much, a rarity as his mother couldn't resist pointing out. But Ruslan had good reason. He'd been calculating. Or, at least, to the best of his ability he had been. He was still convinced that there was a way to persuade Nikolai to allow him to bring Bernard. And whatever the cost, Ruslan had resolved himself to pay it.

First, though, he'd need to get back on Nikolai's good side, and despite the uncomfortable chills crawling across his skin, he was almost certain he knew how to get it done...

"Leave us, all of you," Ruslan ordered before his husband could, dismissing Bernard as well as the maids that had aided him out of his dress. That caught the man's attention.

Good.

Ruslan took a deep breath as he did his best casual traipse over to the vanity across from the foot of the bed. He considered the image in the large, ornate oval mirror—the pretty little blonde with a porcelain figure... She wasn't him, Ruslan reminded himself.

That was how he was going to get through this. Dissociate.

She was Ruslan's bargaining chip. She was Nikolai's prize...and she certainly had the duke's full attention now.

Nikolai wasn't even finished undressing, but he was already closing the distance between them, no different than a famished spider drawn to a moth tangled perilously in its web. Ruslan clearly saw the hands coming, but couldn't help his quick, involuntary intake of breath when warm fingers crested his skin.

No—not his skin. Her skin.

Arms encircled her bare waist, and lips cut a trail of kisses up her shoulder, then along her elegant neck to a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear. It felt wrong, sacrificing her like this for his own selfish means, but Ruslan also knew she wasn't real. He was a real person, and so was Bernard. She was just an idea...

And yet...the guilt he felt was almost like a presence of its own. Empty and oppressive—a monster in of itself.

"You're so beautiful, my darling," Nikolai flattered, voice husky and dripping with desire. "Don't be frightened," he added when Ruslan tensed. "I'll be gentle this time."

Ruslan swallowed thickly. "...I'm not frightened."

"No? Your heart's beating fast," Nikolai countered.

"I'm just excited." A lie, but it worked.

As Nikolai's hands explored, uninhibited, Ruslan's stomach turned, and he began to feel horridly dizzy, so much so that he found himself grabbing the vanity for support, bumping a small, shallow box that had yet to be packed...

His eyes closed tightly. He had to press through this. He had to keep Bernard by his side. Being split up was too great a risk. It wouldn't do. Ruslan wouldn't survive it. He just hoped Bernard wouldn't be too upset. He hoped he would understand Ruslan's sacrifice.

But just as Ruslan forced his eyes open again to face the flushed princess in the mirror, he also saw something else...partly spilled out from that little jewelry box he'd accidentally bumped.

"What the fuck?!" Ruslan blurted, jerking away from Nikolai's touch before he could stop himself.

"What?" His husband was clearly so shocked that he wasn't even angry yet.

"What is that?!" Ruslan pointed at the necklace. "Why is it here?" This... This wasn't part of the plan at all. This didn't make any sense!

Nikolai paled, which caused him even more alarm. "Ruslan, it's not-"

"Nikolai! That is! It's Aunt Raya's necklace! Why do you have it?!"

"Lower your voice!" Ruslan flinched, causing Nikolai to cringe and lower his own voice before adding, "I can explain."

Ruslan snatched the fur throw draped over the armchair where he'd nearly been accosted the night before, and wrapped it tightly around himself. "Then explain it. Now."

"I found it, and in a most conspicuous place at that." Nikolai ran a hand through his sleek short hair, smoothing it back and taking a seat in the armchair. "In Lord Sokolov's room."

"What were you doing in there? Why didn't you bring it to anyone's attention?"

"Because of your mother! Why else? I've seen them whisper, and there's something very bizarre about that man, Ruslan, very unusual! No one can ever recall where he is or when. He flits around here like a shadow. Like he's walked the halls of this place his whole life, and none of the servants or the rest of the family takes notice. Not even my mother, and you know how she is, my mother..."

Ruslan wore a frown as he began to pace. If Nikolai was telling the truth—and Ruslan believed he was—then Alexander had to be responsible, just as he'd thought. Alexander had blood on him the day of the wedding. It couldn't have been anything else.

His mind was still reeling with thoughts until Nikolai's question drew him back. "Would...you want to go for a walk with me?"

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now," Nikolai snipped, but he seemed to have noticed that his tone was unwarranted, and softened it when he added, "I need a smoke...and to shake this chill off."

Ruslan didn't call anyone. He could dress himself. He had a change of clothes this time. Bed clothes and a robe, but clothes nonetheless. His clothes. Male clothes. And he was especially relieved to be putting them back on, considering how quickly things had been moving only moments before his startling discovery.

He glanced at Nikolai, busy cleaning and then filling the bowl of his pipe.

Ruslan had been naive, hoping to stomach sating Nikolai. Until tonight, part of him had still hoped he'd somehow be able to preserve himself, his first intimacy, for Bernard. And he still would, if he could. But losing what purity he had left seemed inevitable at this point. Ruslan wondered if his love would be ashamed or heartbroken to know what he had almost allowed Nikolai to do...

"That's not uncomfortable?" Nikolai was pointing the end of his pipe at the corset Ruslan was lacing over his own torso. "Pressing your chest flat like that?"

"Oh. Uhm... Sometimes it is." He couldn't get it quite as tight as Bernard could. "But I'm less comfortable without it."

Nikolai humfed. "You should be careful doing that... It can't be good for your lungs."

Ruslan's gaze fell pointedly on the pipe in Nikolai's hands, but he didn't dare say anything. Pointing out the possible hypocrisy wouldn't help his cause.

They walked hand in hand, down the tall, tiled halls and corridors, passing elegant molding and artwork, and avoiding any of the areas where guests and court members would've most likely congregated to drink, smoke, and gossip well into the night. Nikolai occasionally exhaled a sweet, woody-scented cloud, while Ruslan plotted how best to bring up the subject of keeping Bernard, until something finally came to him.

"I'm sorry for spoiling the mood earlier... I still owe you my gratitude..."

"What for?" Nikolai asked.

"For what you did," Ruslan gave Nikolai's hand an affectionate squeeze as he leaned into his arm. "Apologizing to Bernard. You didn't have to do that. In fact, I still haven't figured out when or how you even found the time today."

Nikolai stopped walking and pulled his pipe from his mouth. "I didn't—"

"Perhaps my head was idle," Ruslan interrupted, stepping in front of him. "I've been terribly angry, and very sad, and quite scared since just before father passed, and I've realized I haven't treated you fairly because of it. But hearing that you reassured my only friend there's no malice between the two of you...I don't deserve such a forgiving husband."

The gears were turning in Nikolai's head—so evidently that if Ruslan hadn't been completely desperate for this plan to work, he might have lost his composure. Laughed until his sides split. Instead, he did his best to act the part of a genuinely enlightened and grateful spouse.

"...So that was why you were suddenly so warm to me this evening?"

Ruslan nodded sheepishly. "Well, you were willing to swallow your pride just to make me happy... And I find that incredibly mature...and attractive," he said, gaze trailing suggestively from Nikolai's eyes to his lips. "Will you forgive me for last night?"

A smug smile crept across Nikolai's face, and he pulled Ruslan against his hips. "Consider it forgotten." He sealed his reply with a forceful kiss, tongue pushing past teeth, and filling Ruslan's mouth. Ruslan reciprocated, drawing a pleased groan out of his husband.

But when the duke finally pulled back to allow Ruslan to breathe, he saw something that made him jump, startling him badly enough to frighten Ruslan as well.

"What!? Wha—?" Ruslan's brows pinched as he looked behind him and spotted one of the older maids in the hall, standing only a few paces away from them in front of one of the doors, trembling. Her hands were clutching her stomach and she appeared to be muttering something, but Ruslan couldn't really make out what.

Nikolai pulled Ruslan against his side, rolling back his shoulders, and puffing out his chest. "What are you doing?" he asked the maid, who simply continued staring ahead. "Are you deaf, hag? You're being spoken to! Answer me."

She didn't. She just kept staring... Kept shaking.

It could have been Ruslan's imagination. The stress of the day, the week, everything, playing a cruel trick on him, but he could've sworn he saw a shadow stretch out over the maid, extending past her form, impossibly long and at an angle that didn't make sense. "N-Nikolai?"

"Let's go," the duke said sharply, tugging Ruslan along down the hall.

"W-wait! Wait!" a raspy voice called from behind them. "Wait! H-help! My lord, please!"

"N-no," Nikolai stammered, pace quickening. "Get a guard instead! Guards! Where in the hell are all of them, anyway?"

Ruslan's legs had to work faster to keep up. "Nikolai, shouldn't we at least-"

"NO! No, darling, we're so close to leaving this dreadful place. We aren't getting involved in anything else; we're going home tomorrow! She's a palace maid; it's a palace problem."

Seeing Nikolai so shaken deeply unnerved Ruslan. The maid's behavior was indeed strange and what he thought he saw, frightening, but he was also deeply frustrated. She'd interrupted them. He was just sinking in his claws and she spooked Nikolai. Distracted him. Ruslan was determined to salvage this, though. "Right... Right. The three of us really can't leave soon enough."

"Three of us?"

"Of course. I almost wish we could just throw our things, my servant, all of it into a carriage tonight. Don't you?"

Nikolai's jaw visibly tensed.

"I mean, of course we can't, it's far too cold to leave at night, but...don't you, love?" Ruslan asked, squeezing his husband's hand a little tighter. "Don't you wish we could leave sooner?"

"...Of course," Nikolai gritted out.

Ruslan's scheming is getting him into some deep, dark water... thoughts? Predictions? 👀

Thanks so much for reading!! <3