Chapter 24
Argos
There was no better feeling than this stubborn, hotheaded woman’s head resting on his shoulder, arms casually wrapped around his neck as she held her shoes, fully trusting him to carry her through the hidden tunnels of, by all probability, an enemy colony.
It was dangerous to say that he could get used to this…but, damn, he could get used to this.
The thought had crossed his mind to find her a trophy at the market, and now that they’d left, he was kicking himself for not following through.
But then Theora was so much more refined than he was used to, a hunting trophy didn’t seem sophisticated enough.
He would probably have to build her a table or something, and there was obviously no time for that.
Maybe the tunic?
He’d only been making it as emergency armor for her—not nearly as impenetrable as true armor, but good enough in a pinch and easy to slip past security. But she’d admired it on the train, and that seemed as good a sign as any.
Perhaps it was stupid to hope. This was only supposed to be one mission.
She was the ruler of a colony, and he was just a soldier whom most of his peers didn’t even like.
But it didn’t matter that he was a Warrior, as she had the right magic…
as her voice felt as if it were made for him.
Not that it was the most important thing, but their sexual chemistry was uncanny.
And he…he loved her. Challenges and all.
She deserved to be with someone who loved her, unconditionally.
They made it back to the suite, and Argos grinned as Theora didn’t quite let go of him even after he placed her on her feet.
“I’ll admit, Argos,” she said. “I needed that.”
“We can go back tomorrow.”
She seemed to remember her present predicament then, turning to exit the closet. “Tomorrow we’ll be out of confinement and back to business. I honestly don’t understand why it’s taken this long.”
Argos caught her waist, gently, before she could move away. “Let me secure the suite.”
Theora’s hands touched his, as if she meant to keep him there rather than pry him off, and that small action alone made Argos want to kiss the top of her head and hold her closer. But it was time to work, so he let go, however reluctantly, and locked the attic door.
His nose twitched into a grimace as he processed Apollo’s familiar scent outside the door of their suite—not currently present, but recent enough to still be strong.
He opened the door to the suite, and a small letter fell down, as if it had been wedged through the crack at the top of the door.
Argos caught it in mid-flight and looked it over.
No writing on the envelope, just the scent giving the author away.
I knew that traitor having a key to our wing was going to be a problem.
“What is it?” Theora asked.
Argos tore the letter open, reading it to himself despite Theora’s demand to see it.
My dear Queen Theora,
Venita told me everything that transpired, and it’s made me realize what truly matters.
I know you’re expected to be in confinement, but I wonder if you might sneak away (as I see you already have) and meet me at the gate of Lover’s Lagoon at 7 o’clock.
I have something important to discuss with you.
Yours faithfully and forever,
Apollo
“Who’s it from?” Theora demanded for the tenth time, now sitting on the couch. “Venita?”
Just because Pyre was clear, it didn’t mean Apollo was.
If his actions were aboveboard, why hadn’t he told Theora he was meeting with the Vespulans?
Instead he was going behind his own queen’s back, as if he had something to hide.
And if Pyre wasn’t even sure what his intentions were, Argos saw no reason to rule him out yet.
“Does it matter?” he said. “He’s trying to lure you into a trap.”
Theora looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “This again?”
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but Apollo has been moving suspiciously since he arrived. You’re in mediated talks with Pyre and yet he’s having secret meetings with her behind your back. And then there’s that ringblitz.”
“Don’t piss me off, Argos.”
His chest rumbled a bit. “You don’t think it’s odd that he cares about you, came all this way to see you, but didn’t view the peace talk session after escorting you all the way to the meeting room? It’s as if he knew something was going to happen.”
Theora bit her lip, glaring but silent for a moment. She sighed in frustration, holding out her hand. “Let me see the letter.”
Argos handed it to her reluctantly. She unfolded the letter quickly, reading it in her head. She lifted the paper to the light, tilting her head at it, then frowned and lowered it again.
“It does sound…off,” she admitted hesitantly. “I mean, it is his handwriting. But I’ve never heard him speak like this, at least not to me. And we did, just yesterday, cancel any expectations of marriage.”
“And that’s not proof enough for you?”
“Maybe he’s being careful, since he knows I’m in danger. He must have information we need.”
Argos sighed heavily. “You brought me here to protect you, but you never listen to me. He’s trying to get you out in the open.”
“You sound ridiculous, Argos,” she said, suddenly angry. “What possible advantage could Apollo gain by killing me? Ruling kings are obsolete—he’d have a hell of a time convincing the people, much less parliament, that he could rule without me.”
“Well, something is going on, Theora, and you’re too blinded by your affection for Apollo to see it.”
Theora ignored his words, grabbing his wrist to look at his watch. “Oh, Sovereign, less than an hour now.” She hurried to the bedroom.
Argos sighed and followed.
“Don’t tell me you’re going,” he said, watching her run to the bathroom to quickly put on makeup. “We’re in confinement, and you run to your man at the drop of a hat with zero suspicion of his intentions.”
“He’s not my ‘man.’ ”
“Then what’s with the urgency? And the full face of makeup?”
She scowled at him before leaning back into the mirror. “I’m a queen. I can’t be seen out there looking a mess.”
“You don’t look like a mess to me…” He sighed, sitting on the bed, shaking his head at himself for getting distracted. “What happened to calling Boada?”
“Peace talks take precedence.”
“Then why not just meet with Pyre? She’s offered to do it without bothering with mediators. No one would have to know.”
Theora looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “And no one would find our bodies, either.”
Argos smirked. They were more alike than he’d thought.
“You might as well stop getting ready,” he said. “You’re not going.”
“Excuse me?” She put down her makeup, turned on her heel, and stormed into the bedroom to glare at him. “You are here as my bodyguard, not to make demands.”
That comment hurt a little, especially after everything they’d been through so far…especially after spending the entire day together, connecting so well. But he let his growl spike, blocking out any feeble emotions. “Well, I can’t protect you if you insist on walking into danger.”
“Oh, and waltzing into Pyre’s room by ourselves isn’t walking into danger?” she snapped, throwing up her hands in frustration. “Apollo is the last person who would try to kill me.”
“There was just an attempt on your life. I don’t think we should be trusting anyone so easily. Not even someone you think is a friend.”
“Don’t punish me for your paranoia,” she said, and she rushed back into the bathroom to continue her preparations.
There was definitely something wrong. They’d had so much fun today at the farmer’s market, and now she was so…agitated.
Argos stood in the doorway, bending over slightly to fit, leaning his arms against either side. “You’re not going.”
Theora made eye contact with him through the mirror, then quickly looked down at her makeup again. “You’re welcome to come along, if it’ll make you feel better.”
Argos growled, running his hand through his hair. “We don’t know what’s going on outside of our wing. We don’t even know the status of the peace talks. What do you think going to him now is going to accomplish?”
Theora spun around to glare at him. “How dare you question my judgment.”
“What does he want from you, Theora? Have you ever thought that marrying you might just be a stepping stone for him to gain power?”
“He doesn’t crave power,” she said, her voice on edge from annoyance or impatience. “He loves me.”
“He doesn’t love you. Don’t you see? He’s using you.”
Theora planted her hands on her hips, looking him over. “Oh, I see all right. You’re jealous again.”
Argos scoffed. “I think it’s toxic that you seem to get enjoyment out of the idea that I might be jealous.”
“Toxic?” Theora stormed up to him. “If I’m toxic, you’re…you’re—”
“I’m what?” he growled, looming over her.
Theora glared up at him, but her eyes were slightly wide, the scent of her sweat shifting. He felt guilt twist his gut. He’d frightened her, moving as he had.
She’s not a Warrior. Don’t treat her like a Warrior.
But why won’t she use the command word?
He pressed back his magic without her aid, taking a breath. But he didn’t back down, sensing as Theora’s initial fear shifted again, to an edge of anticipation. Of…excitement.
“I’m what?” he prompted again without so much malice.
Theora swallowed. “You are a churlish, mannerless, brutish man, and you have no right to tell me what I can or can’t do.”
“Aww, I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically. “Does my doing my job hurt your feelings?”
She shook her head. “And you’re supposed to be my husband? Apollo would never speak to me that way.”
“You should’ve married him, then.”
“I didn’t want to marry during the war.”
“Okay, that’s a year of your life. And before that? You didn’t have to wait to become queen to marry.”
Theora fumbled for words a moment, her face radiating angry heat. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“Yes, Your Grace; no, Your Grace,” he mocked. “Bowing and scraping. Never disagreeing with you. Speaks six languages, knows foreign customs, is politically savvy, always knows what to say—”