Page 87 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

It was dangerous to say that he could get used to this…but, damn, he could get used to this.

The thought had crossed his mind to find her a trophy at the market, and now that they’d left, he was kicking himself for not following through. But then Theora was so much more refined than he was used to, a hunting trophy didn’t seem sophisticated enough. He would probably have to build her a table or something, and there was obviously no time for that.

Maybe the tunic?

He’d only been making it as emergency armor for her—not nearly as impenetrable as true armor, but good enough in a pinch and easy to slip past security. But she’d admired it on the train, and that seemed as good a sign as any.

Perhaps it was stupid to hope. This was only supposed to be one mission. She was the ruler of a colony, and he was just a soldier whom most of his peers didn’t even like. But it didn’t matter that he was a Warrior, as she had the right magic…as her voice felt as if it were made for him. Not that it was the most important thing, but their sexual chemistry was uncanny. And he…he loved her. Challenges and all.

She deserved to be with someone who loved her, unconditionally.

They made it back to the suite, and Argos grinned as Theora didn’t quite let go of him even after he placed her on her feet.

“I’ll admit, Argos,” she said. “I needed that.”

“We can go back tomorrow.”

She seemed to remember her present predicament then, turning to exit the closet. “Tomorrow we’ll be out of confinement and back to business. I honestly don’t understand why it’s taken this long.”

Argos caught her waist, gently, before she could move away. “Let me secure the suite.”

Theora’s hands touched his, as if she meant to keep him there rather than pry him off, and that small action alone made Argos want to kiss the top of her head and hold her closer. But it was time to work, so he let go, however reluctantly, and locked the attic door.

His nose twitched into a grimace as he processed Apollo’s familiar scent outside the door of their suite—not currently present, but recent enough to still be strong. He opened the door to the suite, and a small letter fell down, as if it had been wedged through the crack at the top of the door. Argos caught it in mid-flight and looked it over. No writing on the envelope, just the scent giving the author away.

I knew that traitor having a key to our wing was going to be a problem.

“What is it?” Theora asked.

Argos tore the letter open, reading it to himself despite Theora’s demand to see it.

My dear Queen Theora,

Venita told me everything that transpired, and it’s made me realize what truly matters. I know you’re expected to be in confinement, but I wonder if you might sneak away (as I see you already have) and meet me at the gate of Lover’s Lagoon at 7 o’clock. I have something important to discuss with you.

Yours faithfully and forever,

Apollo

“Who’s it from?” Theora demanded for the tenth time, now sitting on the couch. “Venita?”

Just because Pyre was clear, it didn’t mean Apollo was. If his actions were aboveboard, why hadn’t he told Theora he was meeting with the Vespulans? Instead he was going behind his own queen’s back, as if he had something to hide. And if Pyre wasn’t even sure what his intentions were, Argos saw no reason to rule him out yet.

“Does it matter?” he said. “He’s trying to lure you into a trap.”

Theora looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “This again?”

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but Apollo has been moving suspiciously since he arrived. You’re in mediated talks with Pyre and yet he’s having secret meetings with her behind your back. And then there’s that ringblitz.”

“Don’t piss me off, Argos.”

His chest rumbled a bit. “You don’t think it’s odd that he cares about you, came all this way to see you, but didn’t view the peace talk session after escorting you all the way to the meeting room? It’s as if he knew something was going to happen.”

Theora bit her lip, glaring but silent for a moment. She sighed in frustration, holding out her hand. “Let me see the letter.”

Argos handed it to her reluctantly. She unfolded the letter quickly, reading it in her head. She lifted the paper to the light, tilting her head at it, then frowned and lowered it again.

“It does sound…off,” she admitted hesitantly. “I mean, it is his handwriting. But I’ve never heard him speak like this, at least not to me. And we did, just yesterday, cancel any expectations of marriage.”