Page 72 of Kingmakers, Year Four

“Swimming the opposite way, were you?” Sloane says.

Marko’s eyes narrow slightly. “She’s funny,” he says to me, turning away from Sloane.

“When will the wedding take place?” I ask Marko, my jaw tight.

“Next week,” he says. “That’s as long as I can wait. You’ve never seen such a woman—as strong as a man! And twice as stubborn.”

He laughs his loud, booming laugh, then tosses down half his drink.

“I’m happy for you,” I tell Marko. “I wish we could attend—unfortunately, Sloane and I are traveling to Denver in a few days’ time. We’re opening a dispensary.”

“I heard you expanded to America,” Marko says, nodding slowly. “You were always ambitious, Ivan. I’m glad to see the hunger is still there.”

“I hope your marriage will bring you as much joy as mine has done,” I say.

Marko finishes his drink, setting his glass down hard on the end table next to the sofa.

“It is good to see you, my friend,” Marko says, standing up. He claps me on both shoulders, hard. “Let us not wait so long before the next time.”

Then, giving a slight bow to Sloane, “Forgive the interruption, and please enjoy the rest of your evening, Mrs. Petrov.”

“Good night,” Sloane says shortly.

She doesn’t speak again until the door has closed behind Marko.

“He didn’t give us enough notice on purpose,” Sloane says. “He doesn’t want you at the wedding. And he certainly didn’t come to St. Petersburg to invite you. I’m sure he’s up to something in yourterritory.”

“Ourterritory,” I remind her. “And yes, I assumed the same thing.”

Sloane looks agitated, folding the throw on the couch and flinging it over the back cushion with too much vigor.

“You didn’t poison his drink, did you?” I ask her.

“No,” she says. “Though I was tempted.”

I put my hands on her shoulders, gently massaging the tense muscle at the base of the neck until she relaxes slightly.

She turns to face me. “I don’t like him,” she says, dark eyes fixed on my face. “He reminds me of my father—that same edge of madness. He’s got one foot in the real world, and one in his own head.”

I sigh.

“I wish you were there to tell me that in the prison camp.”

Sloane stands on tiptoe to bring her lips to mine.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Your alliance with him is over. We can be ‘friends’ at a distance.”

18

Ares

Because it’s been such a warm autumn, there’s no need for the shelter of the old stables on campus. Tonight’s party is taking place down on the Moon Beach.

You can’t actually swim on the beach—the riptides are too strong. But the crescent of white sand, and the black star-speckled sky overhead, and the crashing waves close at hand, all add to the wild air of two hundred students ready to cut loose.

Dean Yenin and Bram Van Der Berg have organized tonight’s festivities. In Dean’s usual overachieving way, he’s built not one, but four separate bonfires that blaze away like vast torches, calling everyone down from the school.

The air glows smoky red, the popping sparks and the scent of burning pine singing my nose.

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