Page 70 of Shadow Mark

Lenore opened the door just wide enough to speak to Kenth. “The palace is secure, right? Do you have to hover?”

“The king’s orders,” the guard said.

Lenore’s instinct wanted to argue that nothing had changed, but that simply wasn’t true. Lots had changed in the way the world perceived her. Before, she had been a novelty—that human doctor—but otherwise unremarkable. Now, the world had all the remarks.

She understood the need for her own security detail. She just didn’t enjoy the situation.

It was exhausting.

Lenore would like to say she took heart in the Oscar Wilde quote about the only thing worse than being talked about was not being talked about, but that would imply she was witty and well-read. She was neither. What first came to mind was the Pirates of the Caribbean quip when a character told Captain Jack Sparrow that he was the worst pirate they had ever heard of.

Yes, but people had heard of her.

Cold comfort, really.

Lenore had thick skin. It was a requirement for her profession. Doctors were notoriously egotistical assholes, did not make for the best work environment, and she knew she was just as bad as anyone. The gossip shouldn’t bother her. It didn’t bother her. People could say what they wanted to say. They could book appointments and clutter up the clinic’s waiting room to gawk at her. Whatever. She knew it wasn’t personal. She was simply the flavor of the month.

What bothered her was Baris.

She certainly had no complaints regarding sex. That wasn’t the issue. Well, it was a symptom of the issue. Their first time on K-7 Station was frantic, two people reaching for each other with the expectation that it was a one-time thing. Now, it was slow and tender. Meaningful, like every touch and every kiss was building something larger than themselves together, and it made her want to pull her hair out.

He acted like they were building a future together. She liked him a lot, maybe even loved him, but they had no future together. It was cruel to pretend otherwise. Baris’ queen would be chosen by committee for strategic political value. Sentiment had nothing to do with it. Lenore understood. They had an expiration date.

Being the king’s mistress was fine, but when Baris picked his queen, she’d end it. She didn’t care if it was accepted that the king would keep a mistress or the queen would tolerate it. Lenore would not sleep with a married man. That was a line she refused to cross.

The situation might have been tolerable if she had actually seen him in the last four days. The first few days after he emerged from his sickbed, she stayed close in case he had a relapse. His schedule was kept light, and she was freed from other responsibilities. They spent the days lounging in bed, dragging themselves out long enough to be seen having dinner in the city, and then back to bed.

It couldn’t last.

Baris’ schedule caught up with him and that was that. He had to play catchup. She understood. He was as much of a workaholic as she was. Unfortunately, that meant she got all the ill effects of being entangled with the king and none of the benefits.

She needed a break. Or a day off from being watched and judged. Even an afternoon to catch her breath would be great.

“I’m done for the day,” Lenore said, tossing her white coat onto her desk. Harol made a grunting noise that had better have been acknowledgment, because she wasn’t asking for permission.

She—and Kenth a respectful two paces behind—headed to the garden, her normal destination to unwind. Now that winter was well and truly arrived, the gardens were normally deserted.

Not today.

People strolled the gravel paths, lingered on icy cold benches, leaned against railings, and generally worked Lenore’s last nerve. Some guard or another palace denizen blabbed about Baris and Lenore’s nightly strolls, and now the garden was the place to be seen.

Vultures.

Lenore stayed away from the public areas of the palace: the throne room for obvious reasons, the banquet hall, the ballroom, drawing rooms, and reception rooms filled with courtiers waiting for an audience, and the library. Every room was opulent in a way that should make aristocrats worry the peasants would revolt soon. The areas dedicated to the business of running the palace and managing the kingdom, various offices and meeting rooms, were closed to the public.

The aviary was more practical, an enormous conservatory filled with lush green plants, food and water for karu, and humid air despite the snow covering the glass roof. Transom windows were opened, allowing karu to come and go. Karu roosted in the warmth on perches of wood carved to look like tree branches. A few people milled about the aviary, having quiet conversations on benches, but Lenore couldn’t stay. She felt the karu watching her. All those eyes spying on her, possibly reporting her to their bonded.

It sounded paranoid, but Baris said he shared images and emotions with his karu. She had no idea who these birds were bonded with or what that person could do with such information.

One karu in particular, a massive karu with white feathers on its breast, took an interest in her. It stood apart from the other karu, who were all inky black. It hopped down to a lower branch and called to her, its voice surprisingly high and thin for such a large creature. When she ignored it, it followed her, massive wings beating against the air for short flights.

Lenore kept walking, going farther into the palace grounds than she had before. The karu followed, alternating between flying from perch to perch and walking along the ground.

“Go away,” she hissed.

It chirped back.

“I don’t know what you want.”

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