Page 25 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“It’s…artistic license.” She sighed impatiently. “It’s supposed to represent the wonder of discovery. Now, can we please focus?”

“On what?” Argos grumbled.

“If we could make our way to the end,” she replied, continuing down the hall, “I’ll show you.”

Argos sighed, taking in more of the art as they went. One painting caught his attention, if only because of the use of stark light and shadow. A woman stood in an outdated suit of steel armor, glowing like a sun, her red hair cascading down her back dramatically, her delicate hand reaching out to a young girl yielding before her. Or perhaps goblin was a more accurate term for the child—she had exaggerated fangs, pointed ears, and a merciless scowl on her face, and she was dressed in leaves. The creature was in the shadows, as if unworthy of entering the light.

Argos looked at the accompanying plaque. “The Birth of the First Warrior.”

What the actual fuck—

“I suppose this is also ‘artistic license,’ ” growled Argos, gesturing to the painting.

Theora frowned, looking the painting over. “Not all culturally significant art is…politically correct.”

“And you’re fine with that sort of depiction representing you as a monarch?”

She opened her mouth, then shut it—but, like a good little queen, pushed through her hesitation quickly. “Historians curate the art in the capitol.”

He looked at the painting again, barely holding in a growl of disgust. Historians. War. There was always some excuse for why nothing ever changed.

“Warriors used to be honored in society as Knights, protectors of the Crown,” he said, feeling Theora’s surprise as her head jerked in his direction. “Why isn’t that part of the history on these walls?”

“H-how did you know that?”

Argos scoffed—never mind that he’d only learned about Warrior history yesterday. The fact that Theora knew and did nothing about this display was what was disappointing.

But his scoff seemed to make her even more defiant, because she let out a frustrated huff. “Knowing what you know about ancient Warriors, I wonder why you’re giving your Sovereign-chosen queen such a hard time.”

Again, she continued down the hall. Argos felt his chest rumbling, but followed instead of arguing, slowing down at the next painting.

“Is this supposed to be you?” he asked, if only to annoy this selfish, pompous little—

“None of these paintings are me,” she snapped, but looked at the one he pointed to nonetheless.

To be fair, the woman could have at least been her grandmother, though the clothing suggested someone from a time far older. She stood beside a man dressed in equally rich robes, both bearing large crowns on their heads. The light source made them appear as if the Eye of the Sovereign were upon them—an omen of peace.

“That’s the last archaic queen.” Theora sighed, as if she were some reluctant tutor, stepping up beside Argos. “Who eventually established the practices of modern-day Aranea. Beside her is her king.”

He looked at the painting another moment. Each brushstroke seemed filled with so much care and reverence. This was the sort of painting Warriors deserved. “What does the king do?”

“That’s an obsolete title, just like Knights. He’s married to the queen. We call those consorts now.”

He looked down at Theora, who seemed as awed by the painting as he did. “So…that’s what I am? A consort?”

Her face flushed hot.

“My, you are full of questions,” she said, suddenly annoyed. “We’re married under Warrior ritual, not Aranean law. Husband will do.”

She turned on her heel and continued down the hall. Argos rolled his eyes and followed. But as they finally neared the end of the gallery, he felt a spark of emotion, a grin slipping to his lips as he looked at the final painting.

“That one is definitely you.”

“Would you stop it?” She tripped to a halt, before turning on her heel to face him. “And why did you say it like that?”

Argos raised a brow. “Because it…looks just like you.”

“Please say you’re joking. This painting is horrid.” When he looked confused, she threw up a hand, as if at a frustrated loss. “Look at it. Compared to Leveya’s, especially.”