Chapter 12
Argos
Shortly thereafter, Argos was cleared and released to rejoin his party.
He immediately wrapped his arm around Theora’s shoulders, stealing a piece of candy from the clerk’s desk on their way out.
Most of these halls were no longer private, and Theora would get pissy at him about it later, but that didn’t matter when there was damage control to be done.
He wasn’t sure who this Apollo was to her or why he was here.
All he knew was that he was going to have to work even harder to guide Theora, just as he had with Warrior culture, to make this mission a success.
It was clear as day that Apollo wasn’t just a friend.
Venita looked up from her newspaper as they entered the waiting room, not quite able to hide her annoyance. “That took them an awfully long time.”
“We were gone ten minutes,” Theora said, sitting on the couch across from her, patting the cushion to signal Argos to sit beside her. “Apollo didn’t want to view the session?”
“I’m sure he felt too embarrassed to join us. You rejected his romantic gesture quite brusquely, Your Grace.”
Theora scowled. “You mean the romantic gesture you put him up to?”
“I told him this isn’t done, that queens are normally the ones to voice their intentions to their potential consorts, but he insisted. He’s been tending to those roses for months for you, in preparation for the end of the war.”
At those words, Theora looked distracted, uncomfortable, and Argos immediately understood what had just happened—those roses must have been the Docile version of a claiming ceremony.
Wonderful. Another complication.
Still, he’d address it with her when they were alone. For now, all he had to worry about was how he was going to kill Pyre.
Because this was it. The entire reason for agreeing to this unconventional marriage.
In a few minutes, he would be across the table from the woman who was responsible for destroying his life.
When he entered that room, he would have seconds to assess the layout, any potential disadvantages, items possible to use as a weapon—
“Besides, I’m glad he isn’t here, for safety’s sake,” Venita continued, shooting a disdainful look at Argos. He fought not to roll his eyes. Were they still talking about this?
Theora huffed. “Dread Sovereign, Venita.”
“With all due respect, Your Grace,” Venita said, her voice tight and not entirely respectful, “I doubt that they will allow your husband into the room with us. He’s already been flagged as a threat. Perhaps he should be escorted to your rooms.”
“Of course they will,” Theora said, her tone daring anyone to question her. “They just cleared him. And he hasn’t done anything wrong. Warriors are people, Venita, not monsters.”
A grin slipped to Argos’s lips as he watched her avoid his gaze, as if she could hide the fact that her skin had warmed when he looked at her. But she was blushing, and that was enough. They were back on track. At least somewhat.
Still, for good measure, Argos put his arm around Theora’s shoulders. “And seeing as I’m Boada’s proxy,” he said, “I don’t think they’ll have any choice.”
“I don’t agree with this,” Venita said, pushing herself up from her seat. “A Warrior without a handler at a table full of people unequipped to deal with one? It’s absolutely absurd.”
“Venita,” Theora warned sternly—but Argos could feel her shudder as he pressed his lips to her neck. “Please don’t question your queen’s judgment again.”
Venita snapped her jaw shut—smart woman, accepting defeat rather than arguing with her queen. Argos respected it, even if he couldn’t relate. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but this little girl is on my bladder,” she mumbled, and headed toward the restroom.
As soon as the room cleared, Theora wiggled out of his grasp and escaped to the other side of the couch. She grabbed the side of her neck, as if he’d bitten her instead of kissed her. “What was that? There’s no need to overdo it.”
“That was overdoing it?” Argos raised a brow. “ ‘Madly in love,’ remember?”
“We made her uncomfortable.” The way she rubbed her neck gave the impression that “her” simply meant herself.
“We did our job,” Argos said, settling back on the couch. “So, I take it you’re not happy that Sir Garden Gnome is here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Are flowers how Dociles propose marriage?”
“No,” she said defensively.
“Well, he clearly loves you, and you are more than clearly attracted to him.”
“We’ve known each other since we were children. I love him dearly, as a friend. And just because I find him handsome and adore his personality doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him in every way. Or at all, even.”
“ ‘In every way’?”
“You know.” Theora suddenly looked sheepish. “Not…you know…”
“No, I don’t know,” Argos said, with the slightest raise of his brow.
“Sexually,” Theora blurted, before pressing her lips tight, glancing around to see if the empty room had heard her.
“And no, he wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to even know you exist.” She crossed her arms, scowling at him.
“Don’t give me that look, Argos. I most definitely hurt his feelings by introducing you as my husband. ”
“Oh no,” he said, his voice monotone, “not his feelings.”
“Of course you don’t care, but I have to marry him when all is said and done, and at this point I’m not even sure I can salvage the relationship before the end of this week.”
“Given the choice, why would you want to marry someone you’re not attracted to, or love for that matter?”
She scoffed. “Things are different when you’re a queen. You wouldn’t understand.”
He understood perfectly. His marriage to Izzi had started off as neither love nor attraction. It was based on survival on his part, mercy on hers. It had been beneficial to them both, just as any other marriage of convenience.
Things weren’t different at all.
Argos sighed and unwrapped the lollipop he’d stowed in his pocket.
“Where did you get that?” Theora demanded.
He pulled it out of his mouth long enough to say, “Stole it.”
“What are you, a five-year-old?”
“Yeah, I just look twenty years older for some reason.”
“Oh, shut up.” She shoved him in the shoulder, but he could tell she was fighting back a grin. “What flavor is it?”
He held the candy to her face. He’d never thought twice about sharing with his previous wife, but Theora hesitated—there was a lot more she was uncomfortable with than he’d thought, things he thought nothing of on a daily basis.
Things that she would have to get used to quickly if this act was going to work.
She stuck out her tongue carefully, avoiding her lipstick, and took one small lick, like a tentative cat. She probably hadn’t had one since she was five, and it showed. “Mmm. Butterscotch?”
“It tastes like you,” he said, popping it fully back into his mouth before she could take another lick.
Heat radiated from Theora, the smallest bit of panic in her eyes. “Excuse me?”
Argos paused. He’d spoken without thinking, but now that he ran it back through his head…wow. Unhinged. “I mean, it tastes how you smell,” he corrected quickly.
“Oh.” She relaxed. “Yes, it does match my lotion a bit.”
That wasn’t what he’d meant either, but he had the good sense not to say anything more. Instead, he got up and walked over to a painting on the wall, if only to distract himself from the strange tight feeling in his gut.
“You know,” Theora said, following him casually, “even though you’re being annoying, I am rather surprised. You’ve been oddly cooperative since we arrived.”
He crunched a bit on his lollipop. “I pride myself on receiving excellent reports on all my missions.”
“If I’d known it would make you so well-behaved, I would’ve suggested it from the beginning.”
“Suggested what?” he asked with a raise of his brow. “That we pretend to be in love?”
She blushed, clearing her throat.
He smirked and held the lollipop out to her, and she broke into a grin—and relaxed—before accepting it into her mouth. The sugar seemed to ease her nerves.
“You surprised me with that pet name earlier,” she said.
Argos shrugged. It was honestly the tamest pet name he could think of—an option that couldn’t be misconstrued, made them sound serious, while also not being so cute as to be, well, disgusting. “I thought it would make us seem more natural.”
“I’m sure it did.” Theora smoothed her hair, and Argos could sense warmth radiating from her. “You sounded very natural saying it. I mean, for a second I almost believed you.”
Theora blushing meant, at the very least, that she was no longer dwelling on what was about to happen. A small victory.
He heard a door open—there must have been two between them and the meeting room, because the door to their waiting room remained closed.
Clearly this was part of security, because he hadn’t smelled anything before.
A door his senses couldn’t penetrate was…
a complication. But nothing to outright worry about yet.
Anyway, as soon as it was opened he was granted access—there were about eighteen people in the room, thirteen of them Vespulan. He recognized a few of the scents but couldn’t quite place them. The only one he could place was Queen Pyre. If anyone in that room was going to be a threat, it was her.
Finally, a woman opened the door, shutting it carefully behind her before turning to face them.
“Due to recent events,” she said, with a tone so chipper one would think she wasn’t referring to a beheading, “touching anyone in Queen Pyre’s party is prohibited.
Unfortunately, that means you won’t be able to offer them any formal greeting.
But rest assured, Queen Pyre’s party is under the same guidelines and will take no offense.
Now please prepare to be roomed. Your first peace talk session will begin momentarily. ”
Argos could feel Theora’s anxiety even as she joined Venita, who was already adjusting her clothing in the mirrored wall. “Sovereign forbid we offend the great Exalted One,” Theora muttered, handing Argos the lollipop so she could fix her lipstick.
Argos bit the candy to finish it quickly. His wife’s lipstick mark left on the stick was beyond sexy, but he didn’t have time to enjoy details like that now. It was time to get down to business. To get in a mindset to hunt.
Venita removed her tortoiseshell glasses to clean them as she said quietly, “I don’t trust these people as far as I can throw a mule. But they’re peace talks. Please be on your best behavior.”
Theora rolled her eyes. “We’re not children, Venita.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace. I just know when you’re upset you start talking faster than you can think.”
Theora sighed. “I feel like I’m being fed to the wolves, is all.”
“I hate it, too. Just remember, things can only get better from here.” Venita nodded at her reflection, then turned to her queen. “Are we ready?”
A guard opened the armored door.
Theora looked up at Argos quickly. “Don’t growl.”
Was he growling? Perhaps he was too ready.
She reached her hand up, and he handed over his glasses without a word. It didn’t feel rational, cleaning his glasses now, but the gesture gave him a moment to settle. To suppress the urge to hunt.
“I can’t do this without you,” she whispered.
“I’m with you,” he said. All that mattered was protecting his wife.
She’s not your wife forever, Argos.
But as he leaned over, allowing her to replace his glasses, he decided the length and circumstances of their arrangement didn’t matter.
He wouldn’t allow the past to repeat itself.