Page 95 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“Cease,” she whispered as he growled. “Save your energy.”

Pyre put on gloves, opening a case that contained some sort of glowing gold serum.

“What is it?” Argos demanded.

“You know me better than that, Argos.” Pyre filled a syringe. “You need more than a cup of tea to encourage healing for an injury of this magnitude.”

“Encourage healing.” In Vespula that meant something different than it did anywhere else. It meant…abnormal regeneration. It was a disturbing thought, that the woman who’d ordered the attack that had killed her friend was about to inject her husband with some unknown substance.

But Argos said, “I’ll still take the tea,” and Theora watched in disbelief as he let the enemy inject him with the golden substance.

“Jae,” said the queen, “tea, please.”

Pyre put on a pair of magnifying lenses, placed a bright light nearby, and immediately set to tweezing the shrapnel from his arm herself.

Theora watched, stroking her husband’s hair. Pyre was far more imposing without a table between them, even if she was so casually dressed. Perhaps because, without the clothing, Theora could see all her defined muscles…muscles that seemed built for killing.

But then, that’s what she’d first thought about Argos, too.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Theora said.

“Yes, yes,” said Pyre, pulling out a bloody piece of sharp metal and setting it on the white towel beside her. “Argos was in denial as well. Tell me when you’re through that stage so we can talk business.”

“I’m not in denial,” Theora said coldly. “I’m not wrong in thinking that you assassinated my queen and threw us into a yearlong war.”

“Argos.” Pyre sighed. “I thought I told you to deliver the message.”

Argos grunted drowsily. He felt heavy now, leaning against her. Whatever Pyre had injected was clearly taking effect.

“Your tea, Exalted One,” said the handmaiden, holding the tray out to them.

Theora rolled her eyes at the overinflated title.

“It was your explosives,” Theora said, impatient, her rage simmering. “Your soldiers that killed her.”

“I understand the crimes my colony committed,” Pyre said, matching Theora’s tone. “But it was I who threw up the white flag and asked for peace.” She removed another bloody shard. “So let’s just focus on the present, shall we? Do you want to negotiate peace with me or not?”

“That depends—”

“Ask if she knows about Venita,” Argos mumbled, barely conscious.

“So we both have traitors on the inside. Perfect.” Pyre let out a breath of laughter. “If she planned anything, it was with Kenzi. Now that you mention it, Venita might just be the foreign contact she was going to meet with the night before the peace talks.”

“ ‘Might’ is not a lot of confidence to go on to prosecute my trusted advisor,” Theora said. “If Venita wanted me dead, there were ample opportunities to make it look like a war accident—” Theora paused. Sentinels and plagues. There had been ample opportunities during the war. But during the war, Venita’s aim had always been to have Theora and Apollo marry.

And then Theora had shown up to the peace talks with a husband.

But that still didn’t explain Apollo…He was her best friend. He wanted her to be with Argos.

Pyre put her tweezers down. “Your silence tells me you figured it out.” She stood and took Argos’s shoulders, and Theora had an urge to bat the woman’s hands away. She felt an overwhelming mix of feelings in her gut…concern, fear…love.

All for Argos.

“I can take care of him,” Theora insisted.

Pyre raised her brows. “Do you know how to move a man of his size with proper body mechanics?” she said, and the look she gave her reminded Theora of being chastised by Boada. “Let’s be rational here.”

It was only last week that she would probably have yelled at Pyre for saying something like that—yelled at anyone for questioning her. But there was something about the way Pyre said it that made Theora want to laugh.