Page 78 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“I never thought about it that way. That’s very…sweet.” Despite her words, Theora seemed to squirm in her seat. “How long were you two together?”

“It would’ve been a decade now.”

“Sovereign,” she swore, then paused to truly take in what he’d just said. “Wait, you were fifteen? That’s not even legal.”

“Come on, Theora,” he said, “you know Warrior marriages have nothing to do with legality. Anyway, it wasn’t even sexual for the first seven years. I was a target my first day in the barracks. She claimed me out of mercy. People don’t mess with you as much when you belong to a more seasoned Warrior.”

Theora tucked her sweatshirt closer, as if he’d said something salacious. “So you…you weren’t in love with each other?”

“Not at first. Not for a long time, honestly. But love can grow out of trust, if you’re open to it.” His gaze shot to her as she scoffed, a slight rumble in his chest. “Is that funny to you?”

“Not funny, just…” she said, averting her gaze from him. “Rather romantic, for a fearsome Warrior.”

Argos smirked. “Romantic? I think that’s what you Dociles call a political marriage.”

“I suppose it is.”

It was a relief to see Theora smile a bit, to get her mind away from the anxiety of the assassination attempt.

“So,” she went on, with that newfound enjoyment. “Being married for so long…that’s how you learned to…”

“To please a woman?” Argos smirked. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

Argos could smell her skin warming into a blush. Fuck, it made him want to take her right there on the freshly vacuumed carpet. Her voice was intoxicating enough without the memory of her moans plaguing him. He rubbed his nose, an attempt to draw out any remnants of Theora left on his fingers.

But the less he thought about how it felt to please her, the better.

After all, he wasn’t allowed to keep her after this week.

“Did you see?” he said, getting up quickly. “Someone brought lollipops.”

Theora rolled her eyes. “Sovereign, Argos.”

“And oranges. Look at this—they’re the size of grapefruits.” He removed a couple from the bag, weighing them in his hands. “I wonder if these are from the farmer’s market.”

“Probably. Only the best producers are allowed to have stalls in our designated market.” Theora nodded when he held up an orange. “Can you slice it into quarters for me?”

He couldn’t place why that made him grin.

Argos waited until Theora was napping to secure the rest of the wing. There was no mechanism to fully secure the outer door, but he rigged the door of their suite so it couldn’t be unlocked from the outside.

And then he sat down on the couch and picked up the phone.

It was a risk, calling Boada—if he couldn’t trust the people closest to Theora, he certainly couldn’t trust the phone operator. He would just have to watch what he said. Boada already knew to do the same.

“This is a bad time,” Boada said hurriedly after three rings, “call back later—”

“Boada, it’s me,” he blurted. He felt like a confused child in that moment, but at least she didn’t hang up.

“Argos.” His handler’s tone settled into something a bit more casual than usual. Warmer. Aware. “Where’s Theora?”

“Napping. She’s fine, though.”

“How goes newlywed life?”

Of course, she’d avoid the peace talks. If anyone suspicious was on the line, that’s the first thing they would listen for. “Terrible. I wish we could leave early. This environment isn’t good for a fresh relationship.”