Despite her beauty, Elliot hardly gives her a glance, not even when she tucks a spring of purple sea lavender into the pocket of his shirt. He remains rigid, his eyes on the crowd. Not even a beautiful woman can tempt him to let down his guard?
He seemed to relax for a moment in the conference room last night in Windgaard. Somehow, I need to find a way to help him do so again. I thought my brothers would be able to help him, but he is clearly beyond their influence at this point. Or perhaps he was never susceptible in thefirst place. Elliot does seem to stick to a plan once he has made it, and his single goal is to keep me safe. Nothing else seems to matter.
It never occurred to me until now how much I demand of a protection agent. I have asked for his mind, his body, and his time, and his life is no longer his own. Even if he did take an interest in someone, that interest could never turn into anything but a fleeting flirtation because he will be needed at my side. Always. He will need to go wherever I go.
No wonder he carries so much stress.
“You know him better than I do,” I say to my brothers, frowning as a child approaches Elliot now with an offering of something in her hands. It looks like a pastry on a serviette. Elliot wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “What does he do for fun?”
“Fun?” Hex snickers. “He spars.”
“Trains,” Sander adds.
“If he isn’t with the guards, he’s studying with Gregor.”
“The only time he ever sits still is when he’s asleep, and even then…”
The child comes over to our side of the square, her steps careful as she watches the pastry in her hands so it does not fall. Elliot follows her with his eyes, which widen when he sees how far I have gotten from him, and though he takes a step, he freezes when I shoot him a warning look.
Once I am certain he will remain where he is, I crouch to match the height of the girl and smile at her. “That looks delicious.”
“My mum made it,” she tells me with a worried expression on her face. I can barely hear her over the music. “For the big, scary man.”
I only just manage to hold back a laugh. “That’s very nice of your mum.”
“Do you want it, Princess? He told me no.”
Cupping my hands beneath hers, I smile wider and shake my head. “No, but I think we can get the big, scary man to change his mind. Should we try?”
She looks nervous, but she nods. “Okay.”
“What’s your name?”
“Elsa.”
“That is a lovely name. Come.” Putting my hand on the girl’s shoulder, I direct her back to where Elliot is standing.
He watches us warily, his eyes as much on Elsa as they are on me. Is he really so on edge that a tiny child frightens him?
“Elliot, this is Elsa. She says her mother made this pastry for you in particular.”
“I don’t want…” He stops when I glare at him, his jaw clenching tighter as if my censure caused him pain. Then he surprises me by sinking down to one knee and holding out his hand. “Thank you, Elsa.”
The little girl places the pastry on his large palm, her expression expectant.
Something shifts in the big, scary soldier when he looks down at the pastry, then back at Elsa. Everything about him softens, and a smile breaks across his face as he leans an elbow on his knee. “This looks really good,” he tells her, his voice impossibly gentle. He takes the purple flower from his pocket and holds it out to her. “Is this a good trade?”
Elsa slowly nods as her fingers curl around the blossoms.
Grinning, Elliot looks back down at the pastry in his hand. “Did you help your mom make this?”
“I made the filling,” Elsa practically whispers.
“What did you put inside?”
“Gooseberries.”
His eyebrows rise high in exaggerated surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried a gooseberry before.”
