Page 100 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

Theora

She could do nothing but pace her room.

She could’ve used Boada’s romance advice, but she also didn’t want her mother making a big deal of it. A relationship…these feelings…were all new to Theora. It was like grasping in the dark without knowing how far to reach.

But, unless she wanted to lose Argos forever, she had to do something.

Theora looked through her suitcases until she found the watch she had purchased for him.

This is insane, Theora. You can’t do this.

…Yes, you can. You love him, don’t you?

Theora scoffed at her own thought. She couldn’t love him. She’d seen him sporadically over the past year, from a distance. Only spent time intimately with him for the past week and a half or so. She didn’t even know the man’s birthday, for Sovereign’s sake. She couldn’t bind herself to him forever.

And yet, what did time matter when it came to knowing someone? Her ancestors would probably be proud of her for embracing her culture so fully—after all, Warriors were part of Aranean culture as much as Dociles, and it was high time the world acknowledged it. And, in a way, that could be considered a marriage based on duty, as well, couldn’t it?

Theora let out a short laugh, covering her face with her hands when it threatened to turn to tears.

There was nothing dutiful about what she was about to do. It had nothing to do with the benefit of the people she cared for so deeply, nothing to do with the keeping of her Crown.

It was Argos. She wanted Argos.

Argos came back from the barracks, his arm still wrapped in some sort of clear second-skin bandage. He looked miserable, poor baby.

“Hi,” she said, feeling ridiculous for such a greeting.

“I suppose it’s that time” was all he said.

His tone was tired, closed off. She wanted to believe it was because of his injured arm, how much it had been handled today by the doctors.

“Come sit down.” She guided him by the arm she could touch to sit on her bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great, to be honest,” he said. There was something almost soft in his gaze as his eyes trailed over her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She blushed, trying to gather her words.

She wasn’t sure why she’d worn something so fancy—the dress was black and fitted, with a neckline that plunged to her waist. It was slightly sheer in select places, with just enough shown to entice, without giving anything away. But then, she was about to bind herself to her husband forever. This occasion was deserving of a fancy dress.

“You can rest in my bed for a while if you’d like—”

“Could you just…”—Argos sighed, as if expelling every bit of energy he had left in him—“get this over with quickly?”

Theora froze, pressing her nervous hands against her stomach. “What do you mean?”

“The mission is complete. We both know what comes next.”

“It doesn’t have to.” She hesitated, not knowing what else to say. Instead, she held the box out to him, hoping he’d know what it meant.

He just stared at it.

Theora cleared her throat. “It’s for you.”

“Why?”

She swallowed, but it didn’t do much to help her tight throat. “Why else do people offer trophies?”

He was still, and Theora was a little nervous he was ready to hunt something. Finally, he looked at her, his expression unreadable. “What is this, an offer out of guilt? That’s not how this works.”