Spellbound, I shook my head.
“In a deadened tone, he told me, ‘Styd bolnee udarov.’ Shame is more painful than blows.”
I swallowed. He’d been like that—at thirteen?
“Extreme, no? It’s expected for each vor to mentor a protégé, to bring someone who shows promise into the fold. I’d never been interested in doing so until I met Aleksei.”
“Where had he come from? Was he an orphan?” As I’d briefly been.
Paxán parted his lips, then seemed to think better of what he was about to tell me. “Perhaps he would confide in you if you two spent time together and got to know each other better.”
And therein lay the problem. Anytime we were alone, we were in danger of fooling around. Which might explain why Sevastyan had been avoiding me.
“Paxán, I need you to level with me,” I said, my face heating anew. “What would happen, if there was more . . . trifling?”
The dapper gentleman clockmaker pulled at his collar, utterly uncomfortable with this, reminding me that he was new at having a daughter. “Do you mind if I switch from English?” he asked, and I waved him on.
In Russian, using what had to be a record number of euphemisms, Paxán basically told me that if Sevastyan and I consummated a relationship, the man would be obligated to become plighted to me—a way of saying bound, fairly much forever—even without the wedding.
It all became clear. No wonder Sevastyan had distanced himself from me—he dreaded what might happen. Attraction to me was one thing, being plighted quite another.
Not that I wanted such an arrangement with him, but it still stung that he’d do anything to avoid getting saddled with me.
The first couple of days after the closet incident, I’d made excuses for his distance. He was too busy, had too much on his mind. Stupid, Natalie.
Not the guy to hold my hands and warm them when they’re cold.
“I believe I’m bungling this.” Paxán rubbed his temples. “You’re so young. Too young to be given to another?”
“Given?” I said, voice scaling an octave higher. This was the way of the world here, a world I was now immersed in.
Gaze going distant, Paxán said, “Still, considering all the danger these days, maybe you need a man who would lay down his life for you.”
“Will you tell me more about Travkin and the current threat against us?” Paxán kept the specifics in the vault, so to speak, not wanting to burden me. “Do we all have glaring bull’s-eyes on our backs?”
Paxán seemed not to have heard me. “It is a difficult situation, and perhaps it’s not meant to be with you and Aleksei. There are shadows in him.”
“Shadows?”
Paxán focused on me once more. “I know Filip is also interested in you. You’re closer in age and have much more in common.”
“I’m not attracted to him like that. I almost wish I could be, but I’m not.”
“No attraction at all? To Filip?”
I shook my head. “None.”
“That is . . . unexpected. Perhaps you just need to give all this some time. Let things settle as they will?”
Sevastyan strode up the pavilion steps then, shoulders bunched with tension. A look passed between the two men, and Paxán immediately stood. “Now, my dear, it appears that I have pressing business.”
I made my expression neutral. “Anything I should know about?” Whenever Sevastyan scanned for danger, was it because he was extremely vigilant or because danger was imminent?
Paxán absently kissed my head. “Nothing we can’t handle. . . .”
Behind him, Sevastyan’s restless demeanor called to mind that ticking bomb clock. His golden eyes darkened on my face—like an indecipherable warning, meant for me alone.
Sooner or later, the countdown clock would zero out.