Page 36 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“None of them are rulers of the colony.”

The handler sighed. “At this point, you two can’t afford to leave any doubt. It’s the only way to remove any suspicion, to make sure no one ever plants the blame on him in the first place.”

“Absolutely not,” Theora said firmly, her voice cold and biting, if only to compensate for the knots tying themselves in her stomach. “This isn’t one of your romance novels, Boada. I can’t just pretend to love a man I’ve only known for a week. I can’t be—” Laid bare. Vulnerable. Open to the slightest possibility of feeling too much…“Affectionate.”

“I can teach you,” said Argos. His tone irked her more than anything—as if it were some sort of imposition. As if she weren’t the most desired woman in Aranea.

“Put away your pride, Theora,” the handler said. “This is the best and safest plan for both of you. All’s fair in love and war, but even a Warrior could be punished severely for a crime committed during a ceasefire. And I want Argos home safely and in one piece as much as I want you.”

Theora paused. Falling back into war had occurred to her, but never punishment…never Argos’s life being in her hands. He was the bodyguard, after all.

No. He wasn’t just a bodyguard. He was, essentially, doing her a favor without receiving anything but Honor in return for a completed mission. She had dragged this man into plans he wanted nothing to do with, and now they could both be dead if she didn’t prove a love that didn’t even exist.

She felt responsible for him in a way that was more than just what queenly duty required. She felt…afraid for him.

Dread Sovereign. She had no choice but to pull this off.

“It’s the only way,” the handler emphasized. “Make them believe you’re so into each other that ordering a beheading never even crossed your mind.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” said Argos with finality.

Theora glared at him. “You’re just looking forward to making me uncomfortable.”

Argos shrugged, but with enough of a grin to give himself away.

Boada grinned, too, as if she were in on the joke. “Think of it as performance art. Have fun with it.”

“Right.” Theora’s head throbbed as she pushed back the urge to scream. “Fun.”

“Well, I have a belligerent Warrior toddler to get back to,” Boada said, picking up the sack. Theora looked away—now that she knew what it was, she could almost make out the features of the face through the fabric stretched across one side. “And you two have a train to catch in a few hours. Go to bed.”

Argos yielded to Boada without being asked, and she saluted him, touching her forehead, then the top of his head. Theora expected Argos to salute in return, but instead he just bowed his head respectfully and left the room. He didn’t even bow to her, the literal queen. Boada commanded so much respect from him, with half the aggression Theora would have thought necessary. What would it take, she wondered, to earn that sort of respect from a Warrior?

“Try to get some sleep, kiddo.” Boada touched Theora’s cheek, and Theora tamped down the urge to lean against the woman who had helped raise her, and cry. It had been a long time since she’d felt physical comfort—she’d refused it at Leveya’s funeral, knowing she had to show strength as her people’s new queen. And now…she had no idea what to do with this simple, loving touch. If she didn’t cry at her friend’s funeral, she sure as hell couldn’t cry now.

Because her people needed her more than ever.

Boada seemed to sense that, her brows lowering. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

She left the room, and Theora immediately wiped her face where the sensation of that sweet touch lingered. Now was not the time to indulge in comfort.

She took a deep breath and stepped out into the dim hall, looking around for Argos.

“You were supposed to wait out here, you giant brat,” she muttered.

“Of the two of us, I’m the brat?”

She turned and nearly leaped out of her skin on seeing Argos leaning against the wall, his body blending into the shadows.

“You’re so quiet,” Theora accused. “I need to tie a bell on you or something.”

Argos rolled his eyes, scooped her up over his shoulder, and carried her down the hall. She yelped and gripped the back of his shirt to try and reduce the fear of being dropped, but it didn’t help much. “Put me down,” she commanded, and Argos did so once they’d made it into her room. A bit roughly. More like a drop, really.

“Hey!” Theora checked her ankle for injury. She wobbled to her feet, dusting off her hands. “What happened to Honor and mutual respect? Are you trying to break me?”

Argos leaned his back against the door and looked at the timepiece on his wrist, then glared at Theora as if she’d interrupted something private. The answer to her question looked exactly like a yes.

“I don’t get why you’re annoyed,” Theora said, removing the soft robe that was making her sweat and throwing it onto the bed. “You’re the one who fucked up this entire—”