Page 93 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“Stay here,” he said.

“Who is it?”

He went to the door, opening it slowly, examining it quickly before his head looked downward.

“Dread Sovereign,” he muttered.

“What is it?” Theora asked, stepping closer.

“Back up—”

Argos shoved her just as Theora squeezed her eyes shut, a bright flash and explosive sound assaulting her senses. She hit the stone ground and grimaced, hands pressed against her ears. She couldn’t hear anything—or at least, the sound was fuzzy, growing slowly louder and louder. When she finally opened her eyes and saw Argos on the ground, she panicked.

“Argos!” she cried, barely hearing her own voice as she ran to her husband. She tripped to a stop, a sob choking her. Dark smoke rose up just in front of the doorway, a small crater where the stone floor once was. And kneeling just before it was Argos, shoving himself to his feet with one arm…the other black and charred, the flesh melting, bone exposed, from his biceps down to his hand.

Chapter 26

Argos

He forced himself not to panic as he watched the toxic smoke rise from the landmine.

Someone had planted it right outside their door. Yesterday maybe, when they’d gone into the tunnels. There was no way someone could’ve done it this morning without his hearing it.

He’d hardly processed his arm yet. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be reminded of how Izzi had looked—what pieces he’d had of her, anyway. If he thought of it, he wouldn’t be able to function, and he needed to protect Theora.

Theora is alive. That’s what matters.

He heard her scream and rushed to her before she could reach him, urging her the opposite way, back toward their suite.

The pain was so horrible he thought he might vomit. But whoever was on their way, he was pretty certain they’d had something to do with it.

“That was an explosive,” he heard Theora exclaim. “Argos!” She tried to turn around, but Argos kept her moving forward, his hand at her back.

They entered their suite, and Argos slammed the door shut behind himself. He leaned his back against the wall, panting, attempting to touch his arm, to soothe it, and unable to.

“They’re resorting to explosives now to get rid of me?” Theora grabbed her husband’s shirt. “How did they find our room?”

“It wasn’t Pyre,” Argos growled, locking the door to their suite. “We have to go. Now.”

“Wait, Argos.” She hurried to follow him into the bedroom, where he again locked the door behind her. “If it wasn’t Pyre, then who? We’ve spent the entire war dealing with her explosives.”

“It’s Apollo and Venita out there. With others, who I can only assume are guards.” He handed her the tunic he’d made, and, to his annoyance, she unrolled it and stared at it a second. “Stop looking at it and put it on,” he snapped. “Your running shoes, too.”

He could feel his magic clawing at his mind, pressing at his patience, and suddenly he wanted more than anything to go back out there and tear Venita and her cronies apart—

“Cease,” Theora commanded, and he felt his magic cool, the pain of his burns only increasing with that lack of adrenaline. She was getting really good at her magic, and not a moment too soon. “Explain something to me, Argos. What does Venita have to do with—”

Argos grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her heart was pounding, and she looked on the verge of tears. But there was no time to comfort her now. They were in more and more danger each second they stood there.

“Do you trust me?” he growled.

Her eyes widened, realization seeming to set in. “Yes.”

“Then don’t make me tell you again.”

She nodded, tears blooming from her eyes, and immediately dropped her silk robe and donned her runaway clothes. He could hear her heart racing as she scrambled for her running shoes.

He was in no position to put on his armored tunic alone, but he grabbed it anyway, along with his weapon, just as he heard a bang at their suite door.