Page 27 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“This is our last night before the talks,” she said, standing in front of where he sat on the sofa. “And I think we should know a few things about each other before we get to Lasius and have to…perform.”

Argos raised his brows slightly. “Perform?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what a married couple looks like,” he said, sliding down to a more relaxed position. “ ‘Performing’ won’t be an issue.”

“Yes, but you’ve never been among these types of people. You have to know what to expect, and what they’ll expect of us.”

He nodded, for once without an air of annoyance or defiance. “Okay.”

Theora sat on the edge of the bed to face him. “Since we’re not letting Venita in on the plan until the day of, I think we should have some responses prepared if she asks what we love about each other.”

“Okay…” Argos said, waiting for the point.

Theora huffed when he didn’t say any more. “For example, my answer will be: You’re funny, disciplined, and we make good conversation.”

Argos raised a brow. “ ‘We make good conversation’?”

“Our answers don’t have to be deep, or even true. Just be ready in case she asks.”

“Okay.”

“So, what are your answers?”

He tilted his head as if thinking about it. “You’re pushy, your voice isn’t that annoying, and…we make good conversation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Take this seriously, Argos. We can’t give any impression that you’re only there to protect me.”

“Fair—I’ll think of better answers. What else should we know?”

“Which one of us is pushy?” she asked, raising her brows. “Basic things about each other. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blood,” he said, and it was obvious Theora was having trouble deciding whether that was sarcasm.

“Sovereign,” she huffed, shaking her head. “Do you have to make everything difficult? We’re going to say red, although I wish you’d come up with something else. All it does is make me think of war.”

“Fine. White.”

“That’s not a color.”

Argos’s brows lowered, confused. “Yes, it is.”

“I’ve never in my life heard anyone say they like the color white,” Theora said, her patience clearly thinning. “Pick a real color, Argos.”

Argos stared at her, for a moment trying to decide whether or not she was of sound mind. “Black.”

“Dread Sovereign—” She took a calming breath. “No.”

He sensed Theora’s pulse increase as he looked at her, realizing too late that perhaps his gaze was too steady and she thought she was being hunted. He…sort of loved making her blush like that. Still, he looked away. “Okay, what’s your favorite?”

“Gold and teal.”

“Favorite color: gold and teal,” he murmured, counting them up on his fingers.

Theora scowled and shoved his hand down, too late to stop him from proving his point. “Focus.”

“Just want to make sure I remember both of your favorite color.”