Page 37 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“Oh, I fucked it up?” he growled. “I was trying to do you a favor, but I guess I won’t bother with those anymore.”

“A favor—?” She strode away from him, fighting to gain her composure. Abruptly, she turned to glare at him. “I really have no interest in being near you, much less working with you for the next week. But you’re my only choice at the moment, so if you could just do me an actual favor and do as I say, not what you infer from what I say. Okay?”

“Not ‘okay,’ ” he growled. “My obedience to the Sovereign has nothing to do with you.”

“You are an absolute pain in the ass!” Theora took a few deep breaths, attempting to manage her anger. “Fine. Doesn’t matter. Either way, we have to be able to convince everyone we’re truly, madly—whatever—in love, as Boada put it. So, let’s discuss the rules for physical contact—nonnegotiable rules that you will follow. You throwing me over your shoulder and dropping me, for example? Not acceptable.”

“It’s not?”

Theora could feel her temple throbbing, she was so flushed with anger. She wasn’t quite sure whether he was genuinely confused or joking, but either way she couldn’t find it within herself to be amused. “Docile couples don’t treat each other that way. And the woman is the head of the relationship, so we’re doing it by my rules.” She tried to ignore the quiet rumble in his chest as she went on. “We can hold hands. And hug—not fully touching, but close.”

“What do you mean, ‘not fully touching’?”

“Leave space. Embrace with our arms without our bodies”—she gestured vaguely to her chest and stomach—“flush against each other. Children can get away with all that physical contact, but no respectable adult does that where people can see.”

Argos wrapped his arms around her, but she squirmed out of his grasp almost immediately. He obviously wasn’t trying to keep her there, but he looked irritated nonetheless. “What?”

“That was fully touching. I said space.” Theora stood in front of him, the start of her wrist against herself, the tips of her extended fingers barely touching his abdomen. “See that?”

“That’s not a hug.” He ran the length of his calloused index finger along the inside of Theora’s hand, which she instinctively curled into a fist to ward off the tingle of his touch. He took her wrist, only long enough to tug her forward so his hard stomach rested against the end of her knuckles, and she suddenly felt her pulse in her temple, forcing herself to hold his eye contact. He wrapped his warm arms around her waist, and her legs suddenly felt like they’d give out from the pure shock of his touch. “Good?”

“Fine,” she said, and he let go of her before she was forced to squirm away. “But no closer.”

It wasn’t fine. She wasn’t used to this kind of contact.

Well, not true. She’d been this close with Apollo. But it had never made her nerves feel like they were going to erupt from feeling too much. Sentinels and plagues, she swore, if the hug doesn’t convince anyone, my flustered behavior certainly will.

Argos rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if I would associate such a chaste hug with being ‘madly in love.’ ”

“I don’t care.” She suddenly realized she was still standing far too close. She stepped back from him, with the distinct fear that his words aligned too well with her thoughts. “And don’t you dare kiss me.”

“Oh, in that case,” he said sarcastically. “Should I not talk to you, either? Or breathe? What about the lamp-in-a-jacket idea, that was a good one.”

“You’re a giant pain in the ass, you know that?” she growled. “This is not a joke.”

As soon as she said that it finally settled on her—and maybe it had to do with the fact that it was time for bed, and there was nothing but a few hours before tomorrow ahead of her, but…this really wasn’t a joke.

Part of her was worried. If anyone suspected that Argos was responsible for the murder, it wouldn’t matter how in love the two of them seemed. But, despite her anger, there was one thing she was certain of, one thing that gave her confidence to step into the room with her enemy—Argos was more than capable of protecting her. Killing for her, if need be.

And after tonight, she had no doubts whatsoever that he would.

Chapter 10

Argos

“No,” Theora said with harsh frustration. She threw her hands up before planting them on her hips as she looked Argos over. “I don’t know what Boada was thinking. All these sport coats make you look big.”

“Okay…”

Argos had been rudely awakened an hour earlier than he’d expected by a high-strung queen attempting to drag him up off the floor by the arm. Apparently, the five-hour train ride wasn’t going to be enough time—he had to try on every piece of clothing in his suitcase immediately.

But he could sense her anxiety about the coming events, and so felt marginally forgiving.

Still, he didn’t bother to look down at the jacket. They were all the same, save for the colors—made of fabric that lacked functional mobility and was sure to make him overheat. He couldn’t tell the difference, at least—after the fourth one, they all started to meld together.

He raised a brow at her. “But I am big?”

“Too big. Menacing.”