Page 17 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“I step out for ten minutes and it’s suddenly anarchy,” she said, looking at the three of them from over her glasses. “Out with it.”

“He challenged us first,” said the troublemaker.

“And you provoked him first. You think I don’t know you?” She crossed her arms, raising a brow at him. “Well?”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” he said, glancing at Argos in disgust, “dishonoring his marriage bed by leaving his wife, or being claimed by a Docile in the first place.”

There were some quiet scoffs, all silenced by a look from Boada, before she turned back to the boy she was chastising. “And that’s your business?” she asked.

Finally, the Warrior looked at least a little ashamed. “No, ma’am.”

“Well, then. Go to your prayer corner and meditate on why you find it so easy to judge your fellow Warriors.” She turned to Argos. “Anything to add?”

Insults. Accusations. Throats to tear out. But Boada’s magic shoved those desires to the back of him like stifling them with a pillow—they were still there, but struggling. Faint. “No, ma’am,” he said, his voice a quiet growl.

Boada sighed, clearly unsatisfied with his response. “Argos, to my office. You’re both dismissed.”

All the Warriors stood at once and went back to what they had been doing. The offending Warrior shot Argos one last glare before heading toward his sleeping quarters to do as he was told.

Argos followed his handler to the office, dreading every step. He sat in the chair in front of the desk, wishing he could disappear rather than have to explain.

Boada sighed, giving the giant Warrior crowding her average chair a disappointed look. “Still can’t get along with anyone, huh?”

Argos crossed his arms, an agitated growl rolling in his chest.

“I know that growl’s not for me, Warrior,” Boada said sternly.

He silenced it immediately, looking at his lap instead of at her. “It’s not me pushing them away this time.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She crossed her arms. “What are you doing here, Argos?”

“She threw me out,” he growled.

There was a heavy pause before Boada rushed to shut the office door. “Why didn’t you come to me immediately?”

Argos hesitated. “This is humiliating enough without running to you for help.”

“I’m your handler, that’s what I’m here for.” She sighed at the Warrior’s silence, leaning on her desk again to face him. “Theora knows what’s at stake here. Did she give a reason?”

“She’s afraid of me.”

“Why?” Boada asked, her tone shifting from concerned to chastising. “What did you do?”

Argos shrugged. His handler was the last person who needed to know that he’d been intentionally giving their queen a hard time. But then, with his reputation over the past year, Boada would never believe he hadn’t provoked Theora at all. “She’d never been within ten feet of a Warrior before yesterday.”

“True, but she doesn’t scare easily.”

He shrugged again, wishing this conversation were over. “She said she wants to…get used to me.”

Boada huffed, rolling her eyes. “She’s been getting her way since she was a little girl—though I suppose it didn’t help that she was never allowed to have openly romantic relationships. Anyway, she’s not that little girl anymore, and if she can take responsibility for an entire colony, she can do so for a two-week relationship.”

Boada looked at Argos thoughtfully, expectantly. “Does her voice still soothe you?”

He suddenly wished he had never confided in Boada about something so…vulnerable. To have someone’s voice pull at his soul the way Theora’s did had felt more like an obsession in the beginning, one he could easily blame on the fact that he’d listened to her records too many times to count. He’d listened to Boada speak for his entire life and had never felt connected to her voice in that way, as much as he respected her.

No…the way Theora’s voice put his magic at ease was uncanny. Unnerving.

Comforting.