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“Fine,” I tell her, “how about you help me choose, Theo, since you’re so open-minded? Would you prefer”—I pull out one of the books on Zaro’s shelves—“The Pirate Lord’s Captive Brideor”—I pull out a second book at random—“One Night with the Ruthless Sultan?”
“The Pirate Lord’s Captive Bride,” Theodora says without a second of hesitation.
“That’s a good one as well,” Zaro mumbles approvingly from her pillow.
I glare at Theodora then down at the cover of the book, which depicts a woman with long blonde hair and scarlet cheeks melting in the muscular embrace of a mostly shirtless pirate.
Too late, I remember Theodora’s proclivity for villainous pirates.
“Let’s go with the ruthless sultan,” I say quickly.
“No!” Zaro cries out.
“Absolutely not,” Theo adds.
With the hopeless sigh of a doomed man, I slump down into the chair at Zaro’s bedside, openThe Pirate Lord’s Captive Bride, and do my best to ignore Theodora’s dreamy sighs as I read.
ThenexteventisChristmas Day itself.
This time, the tone is subdued, the pace slower. There is a morning service at the local chapel, which is attended by almost all my parents’ guests, presumably to atone for the fact that they missed midnight mass to get shit-faced and make advances on teenagers.
Having no religious inclination myself and little to atone for aside from the sin of reading poorly written pirate romance to my sister and the love of my life, I skip the service in favour of having breakfast with Theodora. She wears a pair of soft, faded jeans and a sweater top in pale violet. Her hair is tied in a simple ponytail, and she wears no ornament aside from silver-shaped earrings. The sweetheart neckline of her top exposes the creamy expanse of her throat, where I long to scatter a necklace of kisses.
Although the kitchen is already bustling with chefs and catering staff, Theo and I sit tucked in the little breakfast nook my mother had built, an alcove circled by windows that overlook the herb garden and the belt of trees leading to the lake. The morning is cold and frosty, leaves and grass ghostly apparitions underneath their icy shrouds.
Theo sits with a large mug of green tea, and we share a pile of banana pancakes and fresh fruit.
“Is Zaro still asleep?” Theo asks when I sit down next to her with a cup of black coffee.
I nod. “Given the state she was in last night, she’s going to wake up with a killer headache and the hangover to end all hangovers.”
Theo winces. “I imagine she will, yes.” She hesitates. “Is she… alright?”
“That’s a complicated question.” I gaze out of the window at the pale blue of the distant sky. “In perfect sincerity, I’m not quite sure.”
“She wasn’t joking about the duke’s yacht, was she? At first, I thought she might be, but…” Theodora’s gaze follows mine out the window. “But you seemed genuinely concerned, and I’ve noticed some… I supposecoldnessbetween her and your parents. At first, I thought I’d imagined it, but I’m not so sure now.”
“You didn’t imagine it.” I sigh and turn back to her. “They’re not very happy with her as of late. Although I suppose you could say that, strictly speaking, they’ve never really been happy with either of us, ever. But more recently, well, Zaro was at a private girls’ school in France, and she was caught getting involved with a teacher.” I curl my fingers around my cup, squeezing the hot ceramic with a grimace. “That’s the reason she was taken out of her school and sent to Spearcrest—you know, under mysupervision. And that’s the reason for the ‘coldness’ you sensed. I don’t think my parents have quite forgiven her for what happened.”
“Forgiven her?” Theo’s tone is appalled. “Forgiven her for what, getting groomed by a member of staff at her school?” She shakes her head. “That man should be in jail. I really hope your parents pressed charges.”
“Pressing charges would make everything too public. I honestly believe my parents would rather die than have it plastered all over the news that their daughter was involved in such a scandal.” I sigh and shake my head. “And honestly, in that respect, I agree with my parents, though not for the same reasons. Zahara’s life would be over if what happened was made public. Victim or nymphet—regardless of how the media chose to portray her—her life would be as good as theirs. She’d be eaten alive, chewed up and spat out by magazines, newspapers and websites, torn apart by every tabloid reader and gossip blogger, crushed under scrutiny for years to come, probably decades. She’d never be allowed to forget what happened, never get to move on from it. It would kill me if that happened to her.”
“I’m so sorry this happened, Zach.” Theo places her hand on mine. Her fingers, normally so cold, are warm from cradling her mug of tea.
I turn my hand under hers so we are palm to palm and lace my fingers through hers. “I’m sorry too. I wish I could have protected Zahara better. I still wish I could do more to protect her. I even tried to get Iakov to keep an eye on her, but that just made her angry at me.”
Theodora picks up her mug with her free hand, leaving the other in my hold. “She might have felt as if you were spying on her, or worse, trying to control her.”
“That’s exactly what she felt, she told me herself. She’s quite frank when it comes to giving her opinion—as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” I sip my coffee and then shake my head. “She can’t have been that angry at Iakov spying on her, though, since she decided to go ahead and invite him to spend Christmas over.”
“She did?”
“Yes. I think she and her friends use him as a bodyguard when they go clubbing.”
“I can see that.” Theo laughs from behind her tea. “I can imagine Iakov is the perfect guy to have around if you want other guys to leave you alone.”
“Oh?” I lean into Theodora and cock an eyebrow. “Maybe you and Zaro need to start some sort of Iakov fan club.”
