“The Lord High Chancellor sent a quad to fetch whatever the housemaids thought you might need. And since you don’t have a personal maid, they just packed everything.”
She could feel her blood pressure rising. “Yes, I very clearly remember you suggesting that I should get rid of my maid, Cerdic, thank you.”
“Don’t be like that, Lucilla—”
She interrupted, growling through the door, “That’s ‘Your Majesty’ to you, Sergeant.”
“I’ve always called you Lucilla. Surely you don’t—”
She stopped him by striding forward, slamming the bolt to the side, and ripping the door open. “Put my things in my room and leave. And don’t ever speak to me again, Sergeant.”
She waited impatiently as he shuffled in carrying a massive trunk and several large satchels looped over his shoulder and laid it all beside the bed. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he moved to stand in front of her, his mouth turned down, eyes soft. Damn, it was his cajoling face. “You used to like it when I called you Lucilla.”
In a strange, painful way, it was interesting to stand there looking at him for the first time in so long.
He was tall, well built. He had short dark hair and the dark Apollyon eyes, a strong jaw and full mouth. By far the best-looking of all the guards. The maids had flocked around him. But he had wantedher.
She had loved it when he paid her attention. He’d taken her riding around the estate, complimenting her on everything from her riding skills to the color of her lips. He’d brought her presents from the village. Left meadow flowers on her pillow. She remembered how he would wrap a lock of her hair around his fingers and pull her closer. How he’d slipped her dress from her shoulders. How she’d let him. How she’d wanted him to do it.
How she’d thought she’d loved him.
No, that wasn’t entirely honest—in hindsight, she knew the truth. She’d thoughthehad loved her.
Damn, it had hurt to find out she was wrong. That had been the last time she’d cried. It was what had finally, after so many years alone, made her realize that crying changed nothing.
But somehow, the last few days alone in the woods had changed her. She had escaped and survived and grown. And, even in the short time she’d been alone, she had learned enough about herself to recognize that the bond between her and Cerdic had only ever been real in her imagination.
She had been the lonely, lost girl. Unwanted. Desperate for attention. And he had wanted to claim a princess.
He had wanted her enough to take everything she offered. But not enough to keep her. Not enough to stand up for her. His attention had only lasted until there was something that he wanted more. The gratitude from Prince Ballanor when he had told them all that he had discovered her plans to run away. The promotion. The reward, paid in gold.
Of course, when he took her brother aside and told his tale, he’d entirely neglected to mention that Lucilla had thought that they would be running away together.
And yet now he was standing in front of her, all soft-eyed and tender. Apparently, now that she was the queen, he wanted her again.
She took a step back and lifted her chin. She didn’t love him. She didn’t even like him. And she trusted him less than she liked him. “You may call me ‘Your Majesty.’”
She waved toward the door. “You can go.”
He gave a sad shake of his head, his hand clasped to his heart as if her words were truly wounding him. “Your Majesty, I’ve been assigned as your guard by the new Lord High Chancellor.”
“What?” The question exploded out, her shoulders tensing painfully.
“Lord Dornar asked Lieutenant Claudius if there was anyone who knew you well who would make a good addition to your own personal guard… and he recommended me.”
He stepped forward, closing the distance she’d created. “Claudius remembered how close we’ve always been and thought that it would be reassuring for you to have someone you know nearby.”
Lucilla narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t even spoken to Cerdic for months. Not since that terrible night. No, Claudius didn’t care about that. But he would have remembered that it was Cerdic who prevented her escape the first time.
“I’ll speak to Dornar and get that changed immediately.”
“Surely you’d rather be guarded by someone who knows you?” he asked softly. “Someone who cares about you?”
He reached out a hand as if to wrap a lock of hair around his fingers, as he’d done so many times before, and she flinched.
His jaw tightened, but he pulled his hand back. And as he did so, she noticed that his knuckles were bruised, the skin torn in places. “What did you do to your hand?”
He shifted his hands to clasp them behind his back. “My hand?”
