Page 82 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

When Theora awoke from her nap, Argos was sitting on the dresser, weaving.

“Any news?” was all she could think to ask. It had been only a few hours, but Theora was still anxious. Perhaps the judge was simply arranging more security. Perhaps she’d gotten all the proof she needed and was currently prosecuting the Vespulans. Court dealings did tend to take time.

But what-ifs wouldn’t bring about peace. The Vespulans wanted her dead, and all she could do was sit here, useless.

Argos must have showered, because he smelled clean and wore different clothes. Still, he looked tired. Worn. As if he should’ve been the one to take a nap.

“I’ve got news, all right,” he said, though he didn’t sound particularly excited about it.

“Do you?” Theora sat up quickly. “Tell me.”

“I don’t think you’re going to believe it.”

“Try me.”

“I spoke to Pyre.”

Theora stared at him. “You’re right, I don’t believe you.” She huffed, kicking the blanket from her so she could get up and get dressed. “I should be receiving immediate updates. Instead they keep me in the dark, like some child.”

“Forget the updates. Forget the judge. I can take you to Pyre right now, and you two can discuss peace without—”

“Alright, Argos, that’s not funny,” she snapped, her anxiety climbing until she had to take a moment to swallow back tears. “She tried to kill me. I don’t even want to think about being in the same room with that monster.”

Argos sighed and slid off the dresser. “I’m sorry, Theora,” he said, offering their salute. “Don’t cry.”

Theora didn’t realize she’d started to cry until Argos said so, wiping her cheek with his thumb. She wanted to lean against that strong hand, soak in the warmth of his body. Instead, she cleared her throat. “I need a few waking hours with the attempt on my life behind me before I can even consider such a wild suggestion.”

“That’s fair,” said Argos. “But let’s get you out of this bedroom.”

Theora dressed quickly and joined Argos in the living room. She walked to the bookcase and sighed, spotting a book she thought she’d enjoy on the very top shelf. Though she was considered tall by her peers, she was clearly not tall enough to conquer this bookcase.

“Argos, will you help me? I can’t reach this book.”

His warm body was behind her before she’d even finished her last sentence. “Which one?”

Theora swallowed, her pulse out of control. What had she asked for again? She needed to calm down before he smelled something on her, but his standing behind her like that made her long for a hidden corner in the lagoon, for his fingers to do to her what they had the other day—

“Um, the biography,” she said quickly. “With the blue spine.”

He reached up easily and took it down, holding it in front of her. She wanted to smack the book out of his hand and keep his arm there.

She closed her eyes briefly before accepting the book. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Get ahold of yourself, Theora.

Argos made a rather adorable sound of surprise. “No way,” he said, pulling a record from the shelf. “Haven’t heard this one yet.”

Theora grinned at his enthusiasm. “What is it?” She watched him walk over to the gramophone, violently missing his presence.

It’s a good thing, Theora. You can’t keep him, anyway. Let him go.

Besides, the poor man was just minding his business, and here she was trying to subliminally signal to him to pin her against this bookcase and stick his hand down her pants.

But every sexual urge was jolted out of her as the record began and she heard her own voice speaking from the gramophone.

“Oh, Sovereign,” she groaned. “Ugh, that’s so embarrassing. How did that even get in here?”

Argos shushed her, listening intently. After a moment he grinned. “Your professional speech pattern has evolved since then. How old were you?”