Page 9 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“Yield,” she commanded.

Not a bit of magic in that command, not that his magic needed her help at the moment—an entitled queen alone wasn’t enough to make his prey drive flare. So, instead of obeying, he took the rope off over his head and let it slap dully on the tile, breaking their eye contact to look at the sink. She was supposed to have taken the rope off, but the way she’d treated him so far gave him no desire to make this easy for her.

He could feel her anger, her trembling muscles. From the corner of his eye he saw her rub her forehead wearily before taking a deep breath and clapping her hands, as if he were a child with no attention span. Sovereign, this woman was beyond irritating.

“Eyes here,” she ordered.

His gaze snapped to hers, but his growl was active. A warning. He could sense her pulse spike as she twitched, as if forcing herself at the last minute not to take a step back. She was still afraid, despite her best efforts. Good. Let her feel what a mistake it was to disrespect him.

“Take a shower,” she said, pointing behind her at the large glass box. “And be sure you wash everywhere, or I’ll make you do it again.”

“Alone?” he asked.

He hadn’t intended for that to be taken seriously—he knew Dociles had these weird solo washrooms, as if they loathed community—but her flesh bloomed hot with humiliation, and Argos had to fight back the urge to laugh in her face. “Yes, alone. You’re not in the barracks anymore. There’s no group showering here.”

He crinkled his nose slightly, picking up the scent of someone headed toward them. He waited to see if they would pass by, but they didn’t. Female. Middle-aged. Pregnant? Meh. Probably fine.

But Theora must have taken his pause as hesitation, because she huffed and went to the giant shower, shoving the glass door to the side and turning it on for him. “There,” she almost shouted over the thunderous drumming of water. And then she pulled a towel out of the warmer and put it in his hand. “Now do as you’re told.”

“Someone’s at the door,” said Argos, a few seconds before the knock on wood even sounded.

Theora frowned, clearly not hearing it. “Stop stalling.”

“No, really.” He nodded his head toward the door. “They just knocked again.”

She still looked skeptical as she stepped out of the bathroom and demanded, “Who is it?”

“Venita, Your Grace,” said the woman on the other side.

“Shit.” The queen slapped a hand over her mouth, glaring at Argos, as if he could have done something to prevent this surprise visitor. “Do as you’re told. And, for Sovereign’s sake, do it quietly.”

She pulled the door shut, leaving him alone in the loud, sterile-looking bathroom.

He sighed. This was all so stupid. He was already clean—by ritual, he might add, in the sight of the Sovereign.

Two weeks, he reminded himself. In the next two weeks he would avenge his wife’s death, kill the woman who threw his life into disarray. And if all he had to do was put up with a bit of Docile nonsense to do it, well, then…

He sighed and stepped into the shower to clean himself again.

Chapter 3

Theora

With her new bodyguard’s presence concealed by the bathroom door and the sound of crashing water, Theora went to see about her unwanted visitor. Her advisor stood on the other side of the door still dressed for work, her long brown hair tied up in a neat bun, the cup of tea she held resting on her pregnant belly.

Theora took a deep breath. If her advisor was coming all the way to her private room, it must be important. With phone calls, there was always the risk of an operator overhearing, whether they intended to or not. And with the peace talks looming, they couldn’t afford any information leaks, any slipups.

Still…this was the worst possible time.

“Venita,” Theora greeted, forcing her voice away from impatience. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Your Grace,” said the woman with a respectful bow of her head. She paused in a way Theora wished she hadn’t. “Your lip is bleeding.”

Theora wiped at her mouth quickly, holding in the urge to gag—was blood still left over from the marriage salute back in the barracks? Sovereign forbid.

“Lipstick,” she said, maintaining her calm. “You caught me in the middle of removing my makeup. Now, do you need something? I have about three minutes before leaving my shower on will be deemed bad for the environment.” She walked back into her room, allowing Venita to follow. “So, whatever it is, do make it quick.”

“I just wanted to check in on you,” Venita began without delay. “You seem…distracted today. Is anything the matter?”