CHAPTER SIX
It was almost nine o’clock when Ryu finally escaped the dining room, and he headed straight for the royal apartment.
As usual, his parents had stayed for a liqueur to finish off the meal, but he’d begged off the usual review of the politics of the day with the excuse that he wanted to go to bed early, so he could study for his maths exam in the morning.
Whether or not his parents believed the lie, they both agreed, and he wasted no time in hightailing it out of there and up the stairs.
He’d been planning on playing half an hour of his favourite video game before bed, confident he’d be safely tucked away in his room before his parents arrived, but his plans changed the instant he came around the final corner into the hallway that led to his front door.
Kentario was pacing the hall, and the immediate look of relief on his face made it clear he’d been waiting for Ryu.
“Thank the Goddess,” Kentario muttered. “I was worried you’d be coming back with your parents.”
“They’re still in the dining room,” Ryu told him, entering the code to open the security lock on the door. He held it open, letting Kentario go in ahead of him. “What the hell happened today?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Maro showed up at the hall, told me to get lost, then took over the whole ‘rescue’ operation.” A look of guilt crossed his face briefly before he turned away, still standing awkwardly in the entrance hall. “I’m so sorry. I should never have left you.”
“I don’t blame you for any of this,” Ryu said, moving further into the apartment. He collapsed on the sofa, worn out after a day of far too much stress. “It’s not like Maro gave you much of a choice.”
Kentario followed him, easing down gently onto the edge of the sofa. A few wisps of hair had escaped from his ponytail, and Ryu felt an urge to brush the dark strands away from his face.
Of course, if he actually did so, Kentario would think he’d lost his mind.
But the man’s scent wasn’t doing anything to help Ryu’s roiling emotions.
He was wearing a t-shirt with a low-cut neck, giving Ryu a clear view of his scent glands, and the scent currently rolling off him was dark and smoky – an indication that he was feeling both protective and apprehensive.
“What happened after I left?” his bodyguard asked.
“Not a whole lot. We went out the back of the school, got in the car, drove around a bit, then suddenly the guards on bikes had their sirens on and they’re arresting three guys in a big black SUV. That’s pretty much all I know.”
“Were you scared?” It was asked cautiously, as if Kentario was worried about offending him. But over the past two years, Ryu had come to trust his bodyguard implicitly, and he saw no reason to hide the truth from him now.
“I don’t know. It was weird. I mean, there’s Maro telling me I’m in danger and acting all tough and snappy, like he does when shit’s hitting the fan, but aside from right at the end, there were no sirens, no guns, no explosions.
It was like, where’s the danger? I know my safety is a big deal and all, especially given who’s next in line for the throne, but it just seemed…
I don’t know. It was like a fire drill, more than a real emergency.
” He glanced up at Kentario. The man’s right hand was flexing agitatedly around the holster of his gun, the muscles of his thighs tense beneath his leather pants.
“I’m guessing you’re pretty pissed off about it all? ”
He was expecting any one of a variety of responses, the most likely being an unflattering comment about Maro’s manhood. But what Kentario actually said came straight out of left field.
“I was terrified of losing you.” The deep, smoky scent got stronger.
He meant the words in the professional sense, Ryu reminded himself, even as a warm thrill of longing shot through him. The stark honesty in Kentario’s eyes, the rough fear in his voice, made him feel precious and wanted and valued beyond reason.
But such feelings were completely inappropriate, he told himself forcefully.
In just a couple of weeks, he would finally register his soul mark and meet his soulmate, and then they’d start some comical farce of a romance in which they both tried to convince each other that they were over the moon about the match.
And at that point, he would have to very quickly and decisively get over this ridiculous crush on Kentario, once and for all.
Alphas didn’t marry other alphas. Nobility did not marry their bodyguards.
And princes most certainly did not even contemplate marrying anyone who was not their Goddess-ordained soulmate.
“I’m fine,” Ryu assured him, resisting the urge to reach out and take his hands in his own.
“Really. I’m fine. I mean, I don’t like being a pawn in someone else’s political game,” he said, knowing that Kentario wouldn’t believe him if he just tried to sweep the whole incident under the rug. “But aside from that, I’m fine.”
Kentario didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on the floor, and there was a look on his face that Ryu had never seen before. It was like grief, or embarrassment, or…
Shame.
It was both a relief and the cause of a sudden, gut-wrenching pain to realise that Ryu was apparently not the only one who was considered lacking competence to do his job properly.
He was weeks away from becoming an adult, but in so many ways, still treated like a child.
But over the years, he’d gotten used to his father’s disapproval, and he rationalised it by reminding himself that though he was nearly eighteen, he still had a lot to learn about life.
But Kentario had been doing his job for years, and being told now that he wasn’t capable of completing it must hurt like a well-aimed bullet in the back.
“I believe in you,” he told Kentario, meaning the words from the bottom of his heart.
“Even if they don’t.” He didn’t bother with idle platitudes and dismissed the insulting idea that Kentario would have plenty of time to prove himself later, even as it crossed his mind.
That was the sort of thing people told Ryu constantly, and it only ever made him angry.
Instead, he just let his words hang in the air unadorned.
After a moment, a hint of a smile tugged at the edge of Kentario’s mouth. “Thank you.” Another minute passed in silence, and then Kentario seemed to pull himself out of his reverie. “So how was dinner?” he asked, changing topic. “Another lecture from your father about staying inside the palace?”
Ryu chuckled, a bitter sound. “Nope. Apparently the whole issue of his only son and heir being kidnapped has been swept under the rug. The most important topic of today is which idiot in a frilly dress I’m supposed to dance with at the Festival of the Goddess.
You know,” he said suddenly, “I have a theory. About my soulmate and my parents and why they’re being so bloody difficult about the whole thing. ”
Kentario raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“I think they already know who my soulmate is.”
That got Kentario’s attention. He sat up, his dark eyes fierce and watchful. “Are you serious?”
“Honestly, I don’t know for certain,” Ryu said.
“But it would make a lot of sense. And more to the point, I think they’ve decided that whoever it is isn’t an appropriate partner.
Mum was going on and on at dinner about the couples getting married at the festival.
She said she’d tried really hard to find ‘suitable’ couples, with no skeletons in their closets and that the public could admire and respect with no shadows hanging over anyone.
And every time we have a ball or a festival or whatever, she keeps trying to get me to go find a partner I like and start wooing them.
Why would they need to do that unless they were going to stop me marrying my soulmate? ”
Kentario let out a slow breath. “But she’s always said people should honour the Goddess and accept the soulmate that’s been chosen for them.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time the nobility has suddenly changed their mind. And honestly, what noble omega is going to turn down the chance to be a princess, soulmate or not?”
Kentario didn’t look convinced, but the more Ryu thought about it, the more sense it made.
“So who would it be that they think they’re so irredeemable?” Kentario asked.
“Maybe it’s a beta. There’s always been a huge emphasis on continuing the royal line.
If my soulmate couldn’t have children, that could throw a spanner in the works.
Or maybe it’s someone with a shady past, a dishonourable family, criminal connections.
Maybe that’s why they’re so desperate for me to find someone I like before my birthday.
Maybe they’re hoping I’ll decide to abandon the whole soulmate thing and marry someone ‘suitable’, Goddess be damned. ”
“But once you turn eighteen, you get to register your mark and find out for yourself.” Kentario snorted in sudden amusement. “What if it’s a homeless omega male from Arctesia? What would you do then?”
Ryu couldn’t help but chuckle. Such a match would most certainly fall outside his parents’ ideas of an acceptable partner.
Or what if, he thought suddenly, instead of picking a prim and proper omega woman, he decided to choose a certain noble alpha?
That would surely upset his parents’ machinations, though not in the direction they’d hoped.
But for that to happen, Kentario would have to agree…
“What about your soulmate?” he asked, trying not to sound too curious. “You’re twenty-one. Why haven’t you found yours yet? You have actually registered your mark, haven’t you?”
“My parents registered it for me when I was five years old. I don’t even remember it,” Kentario said with a shrug.
“When I was eighteen, my dad signed over the account to me, but I haven’t heard anything from SoulWorks since then.
To be honest, I’m not in a rush. When I get matched with someone, I’ll deal with it, but until then, I’ve got plenty of other things to keep me busy. ”
Kentario’s disinterest was something of a surprise.
Most alphas were chomping at the bit to hook up with a beautiful, willing omega.
For all the stereotypes, it was one of the aspects of their secondary genders that still held true.
One whiff of tangy omega pheromones and most alphas lost their ability to think rationally.
But he refrained from saying so. His own lack of interest in the superficial omegas at court was example enough, and he was sure that Kentario’s father would have put enough pressure on his son to continue their own auspicious family line that further nudging from Ryu would not be appreciated.
“Maybe I could just sneak out of the palace and go register my soul mark myself,” he said, not entirely joking.
“Or you could just wait a week and a half and do it when you’re eighteen, like your parents said you could.
” Kentario caught the glare Ryu was aiming at him and rolled his eyes.
“Don’t even ask whose side I’m on. We both know the answer to that.
I’m just saying, given where we are now, is it really worth all the hassle of having your parents throw a fit when they find out? ”
Ryu grumbled to himself, unable to come up with a decent answer.
Kentario glanced at the clock on the wall, then stood up.
Was it Ryu’s imagination, or did he seem unusually reluctant about it?
“I should get out of the way,” Kentario said.
“Your parents will be back soon, and they tend to get antsy if they catch me spending too much time here.” That small fact, too, made little sense, though Ryu had never given the issue too much thought.
But now that Kentario mentioned it, Ryu realised he was right.
On the odd occasions his bodyguard had visited the apartment, Ryu’s father had been eager to get the man out the door again as soon as could be considered polite, and he’d never, ever been permitted to go inside Ryu’s bedroom, for all that they’d been childhood friends since they’d both been old enough to walk.
He didn’t think it was a class issue. Danag was welcomed with open arms whenever he wanted to visit Sou in the apartment, given that with the official title of Lord Amagarda, Danag – and by extension, Kentario – were only one step down the social ladder below the royal family.
But Kentario hesitated by the door, turning back with a look of apprehension on his face. “Are we good?” he asked, an uncharacteristic worry in his voice. “I mean, about what happened today?”
“It’s cool,” Ryu assured him. “It wasn’t your fault. And like I said; I believe in you. No matter what Maro and my father have to say about it.”