Chapter 263: A crown for the queen

Sienna looked at him in the mirror. She stood there in the plain white gown, with her hair loose and a pair of small diamonds in her ears. She looked pale, and thin, and impossibly steady. Even now, even like this, she was beautiful, and she did not seem to know.

Viktor could not help himself. His eyes moved over her, from her bare shoulders to the soft line of her waist, and a thought slipped in that he knew he should not have.

Every man in that hall will look at her.

His hands tightened. He could already feel the eyes that would be on her tonight, hungry and curious and cruel. If only he had the power to gouge out every pair that dared to stare. But he could not. Not here. Not now. He had to stand there with his hands at his sides and pretend he was calm.

He pulled her to him slowly and wrapped his arms around her.

She leaned into him. Her cheek was cold against his chest.

"We will get the files," he said into her hair. "We will find out what this is. And then we will get out of here. I promise you."

"I know," she said.

She did. That was the thing. In all of this house, in all of this lie, she had one thing that did not shake.

There was a knock on the door. It was brisk, and it did not wait.

"Come in," Viktor said.

Carina stepped inside. She was in white as always, but tonight it was silver-white, pinned with tiny pearls, and she wore her hair up. Behind her stood a maid in gray, with her head bowed and something large held in both hands, covered by a cloth.

Carina looked at Viktor.

"You need to come with me," she said. "Sienna has to walk in alone."

"No."

It was Sienna who said it. She shook her head.

Carina turned to Viktor. "You will wait at the bottom of the stairs. Like everyone else." Her voice was cool, but there was an edge in it. "Every eye in that hall will be on the staircase. They will want to see her come down."

She did not say the rest. They will want to see what the Don found. The maid stepped forward and pulled the cloth away. A crown.

It was huge. It was made of silver and white stones, and it sparkled so brightly under the lamp that it threw tiny lights across the walls. It was heavy, and old, and it looked like it belonged in a museum.

"Your crown," Carina said. Sienna stared at it.

"What now?" She rolled her eyes. "I have to wear a tiara? Seriously?" She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "This is ridiculous."

She was already angry, and this was a little too much. "The Don ordered it," Carina said flatly.

She did not like it either. Sienna could tell. Nothing about tonight was to Carina’s liking. She would not eat at that table as a daughter of the Ivanou family, and she would not be toasted or admired. She had been given a task.

"I’m to keep an eye on you," Carina said quietly, so the maid would not hear. "And more than that. I’m to find the one who has been feeding Kalisto. The mole." She straightened her shoulders. "So please. Wear the crown."

She said it calmly. But there was something raw under the calm. She was almost jealous.

She wished someone would give her that sort of attention. Even if it meant being treated like a weapon. Even if it meant being sharpened and pointed at the people he feared. At least then she would be seen.

Viktor took the crown from the maid.

It was heavier than it looked. He turned it in his hands, and the lights spun on the ceiling. Then he stepped in front of Sienna and lifted it, slowly, and set it on her head.

It settled over her loose hair. The stones caught the lamp and burned. For a moment, nobody breathed.

She looked like a queen. She looked like someone out of a story, the girl the Don had waited twenty years to find. But there was something else in her eyes, something that no jewel could touch, and that was what made it beautiful.

"You look beautiful, my darling," Viktor said. His voice was rough.

"I will see you out there."

He did not want to leave her. Every part of him fought it. He wanted to stay in this room and lock the door and let the world burn outside. But he could not. Nothing could go wrong tonight. He needed those files. Sienna needed them.

So he leaned in and pressed one hard kiss to her forehead, just below the crown. Then he turned and followed Carina and the maid out of the room.

Sienna stood alone for a moment.

The door closed behind them. The lamp hummed. The crown sat heavy on her head, and she could feel her pulse, still wild, under the cold silver at her temples.

She looked at herself once more in the mirror. Pale. Steady. Wrong in the eyes. I know what I look like, she thought. They will not. She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders.

Then she opened the door and walked down the long corridor, away from where Viktor had gone, toward the other entrance. The one with the tall, curved stairs and the doors at the bottom that led to the grand hall.

The music grew louder with every step.

—-

The grand hall glowed like the inside of a pearl.

A hundred candles burned along the walls. Crystal lights hung from the ceiling in long, shining chains. A string band played soft music from a corner, and nobody listened to it. The floor was white marble, and the long table down the middle was covered in white linen, white flowers, and white plates.

Everything was white. Only the guests were not.

They sat on both sides of the table in dark suits and deep red gowns, black coats and gold chains. They were the heads of rival families, the men who ran ports and streets and whole cities. They smiled at each other. They talked about the wine. Under every smile there was a knife, and everyone in the room knew it.

At the head of the table sat Don Konstantin, in white. Helena sat at his right hand, in a pale gown, with her back very straight and her smile very small. Her fingers rested on the stem of her glass. She had not drunk from it.

To the Don’s left sat Kalisto.

He wore purple again, deep and dark. His silver hair was combed back, and his cane leaned against his chair. Beside him sat a young man with the same sharp eyes, the same easy smile, and a hand that tapped the table in time with nothing. That was his son.

Aliya moved along the edge of the room with a silver tray.

She wore a gray dress and a white apron. Her hair was pinned flat. Her hands were steady, but only because she was holding them that way with all her strength. Every glass on her tray was filled to the same line. Every step she took was slow and soft, and she kept her eyes on the floor.

She felt the looks.

She heard the little pause in a man’s voice when she passed, and the laugh behind a lady’s hand. Isn’t that Capri’s girl? Nobody said it loudly. They did not have to.

She did not know where her father’s body was. She had not slept. She had not eaten. She walked on eggshells, one careful step at a time, and every second she waited for the sound of one crack.

At the head of the table, she leaned in to fill the Don’s glass. He did not look at her. He said, "Thank you, my dear," as if she were a stranger. Then he turned back to Kalisto.