Page 20 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

Chapter 5

Theora

Throwing Argos out hadn’t helped Theora sleep any better. Nightmares plagued her through most of the night, dreams of gods and monsters, stingers and crowns of blades. Dying, and feeling every moment of it, while everyone in the room simply watched…

She managed to make it through all her meetings without being haunted by the images in her dreams. Or perhaps she hadn’t—she was entirely certain that someone had followed her to work, spied on her during a meeting of parliament. She prayed she had been the only one to see him. Because if it was Argos, as she suspected—how could something so large not be Argos?—then the last thing she needed was for anyone to find out about it.

She set to sorting her clothing and packing her things for the trip. It was a bit early, and she would end up having to steam some of her outfits from their being packed so long, but she couldn’t very well fabricate meetings and events from thin air to distract herself.

It was odd how she had selected a bodyguard to keep her safe in a foreign colony…and now felt paranoid, having dismissed him in her own home.

Served her right, she supposed. She could have handled the situation better. Well, better was an understatement. It had been rash, sending him away so suddenly.

And, oddly enough, it wasn’t even his magic that was the problem—he’d yet to use it at all, as far as she could tell. No, it was the man himself. How could such a man even exist, with no manners, no boundaries…no propriety at all.

She had felt so…untethered in his presence. And if Theora prided herself on anything, it was that she was exceedingly tethered. In control at all times.

But…Sovereign. It had been a long time since a man had driven her to change her panties as soon as he left. To shower first so she wouldn’t dampen the new pair. She had never expected physical attraction to play a role in this little charade, and she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it.

Physical attraction? She scoffed. He’s not even your type.

Then why did you throw him out just because he made you wet?

There was a knock at the door, and Boada walked in without waiting to be welcomed, a large mug that smelled of ginger and honey in one hand and a giant black suitcase in the other. So, Argos did have more belongings. Of course, Theora assumed it was all Boada’s doing. After all, how many places did Warriors go that changing their outfits would actually garner any pleasure?

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Boada asked, setting the suitcase on Theora’s bed with the others. As usual, she asked as if she already knew, which only made it more difficult to lie.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Theora lied anyway. “I just want to make sure everything’s ready for next week.”

Boada sat on the sofa, resting her mug on the arm. “Something’s wrong.”

“I’m just a little preoccupied.” Theora distracted herself by opening the large suitcase. “A week’s worth of things for a man his size can fit in here?”

“So, you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Come on, auntie.” Theora sighed. “I’m just…tired.”

“Hm,” Boada said, unconvinced, and took a sip of her tea.

Theora looked through the clothing. Argos was six-foot-eight and broad-shouldered, so dressing him in anything that made him look more like an innocent civilian and less like a giant threat seemed nearly impossible. Boada had put in a good effort, at least—she’d chosen clothing in gentle shades of blue and white, like loose traditional tunics to hide his muscles. Nothing that would make him stand out.

Pants, shirts, shoes, all in one suitcase, plus one garment bag. It couldn’t possibly be enough. She took out a black rectangular case, opening it to reveal a row of seven watches on secure stands. Beautiful and pristine. Unquestionably expensive.

“There are more watches here than trousers,” Theora noted.

Boada shrugged, grinning. “Our boy loves watches. What can you do?”

Theora blinked. “Does he?”

“Those aren’t even his entire collection. He just selected those to match the outfits I put together for him.” The mug paused at Boada’s lips, her brows lowering. “Where is he, by the way?”

“How should I know?” Theora asked, not quite holding back her annoyance.

“I don’t know, you’re his wife.”

Theora huffed. “Come on, auntie—”

“I was trying to give you the chance to come clean, but you’re just as stubborn a queen as when you were in diapers.” Boada set her mug down and gave the queen a chastising look. “You think I don’t keep track of my Warriors?”