But now she had two captors lined up. Even with the general being more than twenty years older than her, hoping fortwomen’s death in order to be free was too great a weight to hold.
What was the point of anything now?
Father and General Vinyes would keep her from even the escape of death. She had no doubt they could, based on how close two of her father’s guards stayed to her throughout the afternoon, ceremony and now reception. So far, her only respite had been to use the restroom, and they’d been waiting for her right outside when she was done.
Any room withwindows, they followed her into. Like she’d fling herself from one given the chance.
But the worst part was she didn’twantto die. She simply didn’t want to suffer anymore. Was that so wrong?
She downed her third glass of champagne, and since the guards didn’t stop her from doing such, she went over to the bar to procure her fourth. She’d ask for something harder, but she was afraid they’d stop her. So she’d settle for drinking as much champagne on an empty stomach as humanly possible.
She could already feel a pleasant fizzing sensation in her mind, in her body. She felt a little unsteady andlikedit.
It was the only thing she liked. The guards, she knew, were a hint of what was to come, and it made everything…horrible. Because while she’d spent some twenty years devising ways around her father’s punishments—mental and physical—this seemed to be the last unsurmountable challenge to finding an even somewhat pleasant life amid her royal shackles.
“Good evening, Evelyne.”
The voice was familiar, but she was surprised to find a hand on her elbow to go with it. Gabriel Martinevertouched her. Her brother’s best friend tended to avoid her. If he could not, he often treated her like an amusing but spoiled child.
It grated, and he knew it. She had no doubt that’s why he did it. He was the kind of man who read a room and behaved accordingly. Sometimes she wanted to hate him.
But sometimes, she could admit, she wanted to throw herself at him. Handsome and competent, peoplelaughedwhen they were with Gabriel. Gabriel himself smiled and charmed.
There was none of that in the palace when he wasn’t around.
So she could admit surprise, and a flutter of interest, at his large hand on her elbow, a warm, steady strength and counterpoint to all the upheaval inside her.
Saying nothing else, he expertly navigated her away from the bar before she could get that next glass of champagne—smart move—and toward one of the terrace doors.
“It was a lovely wedding,” he said, his voice low and pleasant in her ear.
“It was.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Alexandre stood with his bride while they spoke to a couple Evelyne didn’t recognize. “I hope they can be happy.” Someone should be. Maybe Alexandre didn’t love Ines, but if they could find somesolacein each other, maybe…
Gabriel opened a terrace door, but before he ushered her out into the glittering evening, he smiled at the guards who had fallen into step behind them. “I will keep an eye on her for a bit, gentleman. The prince’s orders.” Then he led her outside.
Onto the terrace, but he didn’t stop there. He kept pulling her along, down the grand staircase and into the gardens that were lit with fairy lights and candlelight and little bonfires so guests could enjoy the grounds despite the chill in the air.
“They’re still following us,” Evelyne pointed out. She would never be free. Never, ever,ever. Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to cry again. She’d had a nice jag over Jordi. Now…
Now what?
“Yes, but they’ve given us more space. There’s a lot we can do with more space.”
She glanced up at him. He didn’tdeliverit like innuendo, but she had to admit that’s where her mind flitted.
The alcohol probably. And the fact he was outrageously handsome. So tall, his dark hair swept back in a careless kind of style that somehow felt both casual and perfectly suited for a royal wedding. His eyes were a kind of hazel, she supposed, a fascinating array of greens and browns with a hint of blue. His suit was dark, elegantly tailored, but simple when compared to Alexandre’s royal costume for the wedding.
This close, she could smell expensive aftershave, champagne and the hint of something else, smoky almost. Intriguing.
And it was nice, to be intrigued, to notice all these things, rather than drown in her own misery.
Gabriel moved her through the maze of pathways, arm in arm, talking lightly of the weather, of Alex, of Ines. The guards kept their distance, one even peeled off and lit a cigarette. They must trust Gabriel to keep her in line or keep her from hurtling herself onto the nearest sharp object.
She considered ifshetrusted the charming, roguish Gabriel. He and Alexandre had been friends since they were boys, and so Evelyne had always known Gabriel in a distant kind of way. She knew Alexandre trusted Gabriel implicitly, though they were as different as night and day. A point in Gabriel’s favor.
She had gone through phases of fascination with him, but she hadn’t seen him in Alis for at least a year if not longer, and all her male infatuation had been on Jordi in that time.
Jordi. Had he ever loved her? Would anyone ever love her? And would she even care if there wasn’t marriage to a sadistic general on the other side of that?
