Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
“I’m leaving.” Nikolett stared down the fleet admiral.
“No, you’re not. Not until we catch the Spaniard.” Eric crossed his arms, his feet braced shoulder-width apart.
He was a big man. A big, stupid, stupid man who was standing between her and the stairs. Between her and escape.
“Has there been progress on that front that Grigoris hasn’t been informed of?” She resisted the urge to readjust her crutches under her arms.
“No,” Eric said through his teeth.
“Then I see no reason to stay.”
“You’ll stay because someone keeps trying to kill you.” Eric’s gaze dropped pointedly to the cast on her leg.
“They’re doing an exceptionally bad job.” It wasn’t a lie, but it minimized the terror and pain she’d suffered over the last six months. Since Amalfi.
“Then let’s make sure they don’t get a chance to keep practicing.” Eric’s tone was painfully calm, almost mild, but there was fire in his gaze.
Or maybe that was fear.
Fear for her.
“My people and I will do exactly that.” She swung the crutches forward, braced herself, and took a step with her good leg. “From my home, in my territory.”
“You’re safer here.” His voice cracked a little at that, and now, there was no mistaking the fear in his eyes.
That gold-drenched afternoon in Amalfi he’d admitted something to her.
“Late at night when I can’t fucking sleep, that’s what I see. You dead. Your body in ruins. In fucking pieces.”
Eric’s life had been cratered by pain and loss, and it both scarred and scared him. He cared for her, probably loved her, but he was convinced that any kind of relationship between them would be her downfall.
She’d held out hope for them, even after what happened in Amalfi, as stupid as it was.
Until he used his position to force her to marry someone else.
The door beside Nikolett opened, and her once-and-almost husband stuck his head out, his phone in one hand, and blinked at her from behind his glasses.
Colum was brilliant and either shy or reserved—she wasn’t sure which—and as a result seemed standoffish.
He and Nikolett would have never been true husband and wife.
Not just because Colum was the archivist, a position that required him to stay in Dublin, while Nikolett was the admiral of Hungary and based in Budapest.
Colum was Eric’s brother, by choice if not by blood.
A masculine hand appeared behind Colum, grabbed his collar, and yanked him back inside.
The door snapped shut.
Nikolett refused to smile. She wouldn’t say she knew Colum well, but she knew what he meant to Eric, and as a result had a soft spot for him—a distinct sisterly feeling.
Given that she’d not only had sex with Eric but loved him, marrying and sleeping with his brother was abhorrent to her.
She’d accused Eric of being very aware of that fact, and arranging her trinity marriage to his brother and a German knight she’d never met, specifically because their jobs, and the ick factor, would have kept her marriage from being anything more than a political farce.
She had a new plan. A plan that admittedly made her feel slightly ill, but a plan.
Step one, get the fuck out of this castle.
Nikolett took another step. “I’m leaving.”
“The hell you are.” Eric didn’t move, but he was no longer calm. Good. Pissed-off Eric made mistakes.
Nikolett knew they had an audience. Iacob, one of her people, was standing on the stairs, barely visible from where she was in the wide hallway. The way he kept glancing back and down told her there was someone else on the stairs too.
No doubt one of the Spartan Guard, who lived here and protected the fleet admiral. The Spartan Guard had to be single, meaning an arranged marriage could be used to force them to retire and return to their territory.
Eric had done it to Mateo, the former head of the guard.
It was hearing Mateo’s story that had first planted the idea that the fleet admiral could use an arranged marriage to isolate or remove people he wanted contained. It wasn’t until a year ago that she finally let herself voice her fear that Eric would do that to her.
She’d done more than voice her fear.
She’d first accused Eric of planning to marry her off, then taunted him by asking him how he’d feel when she was fucking her new spouses.
It had nearly broken her when his expression told her she was right. Eric would, eventually, use his power as the fleet admiral to force her to marry.
Because Eric needed her to be off-limits.
Since neither of them had any noticeable self-control when they were together, she even understood why Eric had decided to use her marriage to forcibly separate them from one another rather than simply ending the relationship.
If she could have walked away from him, she would have.
A million times she’d faced him, ready to do battle, but instead ended up in his arms.
She didn’t blame him for realizing they would probably never have the self-control or sense of self-preservation needed to stop on their own. She did blame him for being too much of a coward to face the demons of his past and love her.
Nikolett took another step, aware that she was running out of time because her leg was starting to throb inside the cast. She needed to sit down and elevate it.
It wasn’t just a bone break—she also had some pretty severe tissue and muscle damage from the bear trap that was the cause of this particular injury.
“Nikolett, go back to bed. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I don’t need to hurt myself.” She smiled. “You do a perfectly good job hurting me without my help.”
Someone out of sight on the stairs made a choking noise.
Eric shoved his hands in his hair, gripping it in his fists.
Her progress was slow, but now that she was moving, she wasn’t going to stop—moving or talking.
“You have no right to keep me here.”
Crutches, step.
“There’s no rule or even precedent to allow the fleet admiral to keep a territory admiral away from their territory.”
Crutches, step.
“If anything, you’re actively putting Hungary in danger.”
Eric didn’t say anything, his head still bowed, his hair sticking out from between his fingers.
Crutches, step.
Nikolett angled to the side, planning to go around him since he was in the dead center of the wide hall. When he didn’t raise his head or say anything, she thought maybe he’d seen reason and would let her go.
It was never that easy with him.
Eric moved fast for such a large man, stepping back and then to the side directly into her path. She wobbled as she tried to stop her forward momentum, and instinctively put her bad foot down.
Pain shot up her leg as the cast pressed into her damaged flesh. Eric grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her.
She wanted to lean into him. To let him carry her away.
Pain combined with frustration at her own weakness ripped away her impulse control.
Nikolett hit Eric in the shin with a crutch.
He grunted in pain but didn’t let go of her shoulders. She hit him again, this time raising the crutch and slamming it sideways into his thigh.
“Fuck,” Eric snarled, letting go.
The instant he cursed, people poured into the hall from the staircase. Keanu, the Spartan Guard from Bohemia, was in the lead. As Eric grabbed his thigh and continued to curse—now in Danish—Keanu shouldered the fleet admiral back and raised his gun.
Pointing it at Nikolett’s head.
Less than a second after he aimed the weapon, Iacob, one of Nikolett’s knights, her harcosok, slid up behind the Spartan Guard and put a knife to Keanu’s throat, his other arm wrapped around the man’s waist in an almost-tender hold.
“Don’t threaten my admiral,” Iacob murmured in Keanu’s ear. “Drop the gun.
Keanu’s gun stayed aimed at her head.
Footsteps pounded, heralding the arrival of another party.
“Drop the knife.” Regina had either also been on the stairs or heard the commotion and come running. She stood off to one side, a gun trained on Iacob. She repeated the order in both Hungarian and Romanian.
It stung a little that Regina, who was the Spartan Guard from Nikolett’s territory, was so fiercely loyal to Eric. Especially given that Regina had been a witness to many of Nikolett and Eric’s worst decision-making moments. She’d have thought the other woman would have some sympathy for Nikolett.
But her job was to protect Eric.
Keanu had a gun on Nikolett, Iacob had a knife at Keanu’s throat, and now Regina’s gun was aimed at the back of Iacob’s head.
“Unless you shoot me just right, I’ll have time to slit his throat before I die,” Iacob said without turning around.
“No. Killing.” Eric snarled, pushing away from the wall and rubbing his leg. “I’m fine.”
Keanu pointed out he could shoot Nikolett before Iacob slit his throat. Regina was muttering into an earpiece.
It should have been tense and dangerous. Instead, it felt almost comical.
Then again, Nikolett’s danger tolerance was painfully high after the repeated attacks.
Either way, she was mentally and emotionally done with this entire situation.
Turning with little hopping motions, she ducked under Keanu’s gun and crutched past him and Iacob. Eric opened his mouth like he was going to say or do something. Nikolett looked over, smiled, said something extremely rude in Hungarian that made Regina sputter, then kept going.
She stopped when she reached the top of the stairs. The wide, stone stairs with no handrails.
She could try going down on her butt…
Nikolett looked back over her shoulder. “Colum!”
The door popped open, the Irishman’s head poking out once more. “Er…yes?”
“Help me.” She pointed to the stairs with one crutch.
“Nikolett—” Eric started for her and she pointed the crutch at him in warning. She held his gaze for just a moment, but whatever he saw in her eyes was enough to make him stop moving toward her.
Iacob looked over his shoulder, brows drawn together with concern when he realized she couldn’t safely get down on her own. He slowly started to disengage from Keanu, but Colum got to her first.