Page 30 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

Even so, she found her body leaning forward without the aid of thought, and she reached her hand out, moving a bit of hair away from his temple.

He shifted his gaze to hers, and her muscles stiffened at being caught.

“You could use a haircut,” she said, as if justifying the touch.

“Isn’t it a little late for that now?”

“Yes, unfortunately. And you look overgrown. Rugged.” She felt herself blushing, moving on quickly. “I have a styling product that might work.”

Argos rolled his eyes. “I’m sure no one will notice my hair when you’re in their presence.”

“Yes, but my husband is a representative of me. You can’t walk into the peace talks looking like I’ve just dragged you from the woods. That’s the opposite of the image we’re trying to project.”

Argos made a noncommittal noise in his throat.

“Anyway, we have to be on the train extremely early tomorrow,” she added, “so you’ll have to limit your hunt to just an hour. Do you know how to time an hour?”

He stared at her, lifting his wrist, and she suddenly felt incredibly silly. “No,” he said, unamused, “these are just for looks.”

“Cease,” she said, blushing in annoyance. “Fine. Be back in an hour, then.”

But as soon as the words left her mouth, nerves overtook her. Not because of what she’d said, but because Argos was headed toward the window, about to leave her alone…and there was something about tonight that made her feel anxious.

“On second thought, could you stay?” she said quickly. “Just until I fall asleep again?”

Argos paused. “Does that cut into my hour?”

“No, obviously,” she said, a bit too harshly. But his humorless question made her suddenly feel foolish.

She readied herself for bed, an abbreviated version without all her skincare, then turned off the light and closed her eyes. Minutes passed, and she listened to Argos move around the room until he finally settled, lying on the floor beside her bed with a sigh. She knew he wanted her to fall asleep as much as she did, but to Theora that seemed an impossible task. Because the sooner she slept, the sooner she’d be among her enemies. And she hadn’t been so close to a Vespulan since…

“Argos?”

“Hm?” he murmured.

She swallowed. “Do you think the peace talks will be safe?”

“Maybe if you go to sleep, you’ll find out.”

“I’m serious.”

Argos didn’t answer right away. “If they’re not, I’ll protect you, Theora. That’s why you claimed me, remember?”

“Okay.” Theora took a breath. “I’m only asking because I’m—” She bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t admit to fear, not to a Warrior…

She closed her eyes briefly. As if fearing her courage might give in, she quickly turned on the light and threw back her blanket. And before she could think about it anymore, she pulled the corner of her shirt up and folded the waist of her pants down to expose her scar.

Argos sat up, his eyes fixed on her hip.

“A year ago,” Theora explained quickly, “I almost died by a Vespulan stinger—”

Her breath caught as he studied the scar with his hand, his warm fingers glancing over it. She was used to his aggressive Warrior ways, but this was…gentle. So gentle, Theora nearly forgot she wasn’t supposed to be vulnerable in front of him. He’d probably seen far worse than her scar every day of his life, and yet his expression wasn’t quite blank. There was something in the depths of his eyes that understood this scar better than anyone else ever could. He shifted his gaze up to hers, as if awaiting orders. It was odd how much that look made Theora want to move closer and get rid of the tingling sensation his touch left behind, to feel the full warmth of his hand comforting her instead.

“Ple—” Theora bit back the polite word, swallowing. You didn’t request anything from a Warrior. You told them what they were going to do. “Don’t allow this to happen again,” she finished, her voice stronger.

His only response was to give their marriage salute, a strange warmth running through her as his fingers touched her lips.

Chapter 8