“I have seen…concerning…reports circulating over the last several days.”
“Could you be more specific?”
She lowers her voice. “About you and Mr. Reid.”
My stomach lurches as heat rises up my neck. Naturally, Elliot notices the change in my demeanor and sits up straighter, his eyes fixed on me. Whether Mum spoke quietly because she knows Elliot is in the coach with me or because it is a delicate topic, I do not think he heard what she said, or he would have more than worried curiosity furrowing his brow.
Shaking my head at him, I take a steadying breath. “What is it you have seen?” I ask Mum, though I already know the answer.
Hot Scoopis not the only one to have noticed a change in behavior between my bodyguard and me.
One opinion piece in particular stood out to me in yesterday’s national paper, and I read it so many times that I could recite it from memory if asked.
Has Princess Freya found the one? I don’t know about anyone else, but I think the princess has fallen in love with her new bodyguard. They’re always looking at each other with INTENSITY. I get that he’s supposed to protect her and all, but blimey, if I had a man looking at me like the world revolves around me, I would have stars in my eyes just like Freya does. Tell me I’m not alone in thinking we could have an American king pretty soon. I wouldn’t even be mad.
“According to several sources,” Mum says, “you and Mr. Reid have grown rather close.”
There is no way to have this discussion without Elliot discerning what it is about, so I keep my eyes on him as I say, “Of course we have grown close. He is my bodyguard and goes wherever I go.”
Elliot’s eyebrows drop, his body growing tense to match mine and a question in his gaze.
Mum’s voice grows sharper. “I have seen pictures, Freya.”
Pictures will not have told her that Elliot and I have shared an unspoken agreement to avoid repeating anything that happened in Havenford. We have not argued. We have not danced together. We have hardly even spoken, and certainly not about anything vulnerable. Elliot has given me no reason to think he needs help relaxing, and I have done my best to give him no reason to physically handle me. Things between us have been more professional than ever.
That being said…
The more I watch this man, the more I am coming to see the small, beautiful things that make up Elliot Reid. He shows utmost respect to the men under his command, and my brothers have begun taking more initiative and showing more confidence each time Elliot puts his trust in them and their abilities. He has been following my lead but neverhesitates to tweak my plans when dissatisfied with the level of security, always in a way that still aligns with my goals. When I am out in public and interacting with people on the street, he interacts with them too, slipping into Candoran like it is his first language whenever someone prefers it to English.
Sometimes it is all I can do to keep my attention on what I am doing rather than watching Elliot grow more and more comfortable in my world with each passing day.
I clear my throat, pulling myself back to the conversation and ignoring the…well, theintensityof Elliot’s gaze. “You of all people should know that context is everything.”
“Youof all people should know that context is too easily removed,” Mum counters. “The entire country thinks you have romantic feelings toward a member of your staff, and if I did not know better, some of these photos would have me believing it.”
IfIdid not know better, I might admit that the country is more accurate in their assessment than I would like.
“Elliot has been nothing but professional from the moment he took up his post,” I say, a bit too sharply.
Wincing, he tilts his head as if to say,‘Are you sure about that?’
I wrinkle my nose.‘Havenford does not count,’I mouth at him, biting my lip when he fights a smile. Besides, I would not say anything he did wasunprofessional. He pushed against boundaries, but if anyone crossed a line, I did. I asked him to dance. I pushed him too far with the lurker. I touched his cheek and wondered, if only for a moment, if we could—
“Are you listening to me, Freya?” Mum asks loudly.
No, because every day it gets easier to get lost in thoughts of what can never be. “Sorry, Mum, the signal in the Skalridge pass is not as strong as it could be.” Which is not a lie, though the slight rise in one of Elliot’s eyebrows suggests he thinks otherwise.
“I asked if you are planning to snub Rensvik tonight as you have done with so many other nobles this week,” Mum says with frustration.
I stifle a groan and clench my jaw. The Duke of Rensvik planned a dinner party for when I arrive in Skalridge, complete with a dozen other members of the nobility from the north end of the country. This county is the farthest from the capital that we can get, which means the nobles in the area all tend to lean toward more traditional views. It will likely be the worst evening of the campaign, and a part of me has been hoping some disaster befalls us on the way.
“I have every intention of attending, even if he will spend the entire time treating me as a child,” I say stiffly.
“Intention does not equal action, Freya. If you continue to neglect your duties, not only as a future queen but as a current princess, then—”
“Do you have any other lectures for me this morning, Your Majesty?” I regret my words as soon as I speak them, but I am too tired to keep my emotions in check.
I regret my outburst less when Elliot’s lips twist up into a smirk, his eyes bright with pride. Yes, our actions since Havenford have been entirely professional. No, the gossips are not wrong about the way he looks at me and I look at him.
