Chapter 1 #2
Though not the largest man among the guards, Hendrik has the sort of body that makes a girl swoon.
Muscle upon muscle while still possessing the slim and graceful frame one would expect from a royal.
He looks at home in a tuxedo and as part of a protection unit, and with his blue eyes and brilliant smile, he can charm anyone on the social ladder, no matter which rung.
Of course it isn’t enough for him to have a perfect body; his carefree personality can put the whole world at ease.
But there’s another side to him, one that only makes an appearance when he’s around me. I might be the one person in the world that Hendrik Alverra hates, so it would be really nice if I could get over the attraction I’ve felt toward this man for years. He’s arrogant and petty and vindictive.
But the butterflies in my stomach refuse to acknowledge how much I dislike him.
“Astrid Storme.” He speaks my name in a way that makes it sound like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, not bothering to look at me as he nocks an arrow and looses it in the same breath.
The arrow lands almost dead center on the target.
“Did you take a wrong turn somewhere? I thought you wanted to talk.” Another shot hits the target right next to the first.
There isn’t much that makes me nervous, but seeing Hendrik calm and controlled like this does the trick.
Aggravating as he often is, he’s also highly skilled and not someone to cross.
He wants me to take the bait his question leaves dangling in front of me so he can laugh at my rising irritation and throw some carefully crafted insults at me.
Nothing would make him happier.
But I don’t have time to play his games. “I need you on my mission tomorrow, Your Highness.”
He nocks another arrow but pauses before drawing the string, tilting his head the slightest bit in my direction but still not looking at me. “Why?”
I’ve been personally trying to recruit the prince for a full year now—the RIA director for years longer—but things have changed. This isn’t a casual request anymore.
Hoping to intrigue him enough that his curiosity wins over his stubbornness, I tell him the new information.
“We have evidence that someone within the nobility is funding the anti-royalist efforts, but we haven’t been able to track who.
We need to get ears and eyes on as many aristocratic gatherings as we can to figure out who’s behind it and what’s being planned, but it’s not easy for the RIA to gain access to galas and dinner parties like that. ”
“So you need a royal to get you through the doors,” Hendrik says.
There’s no question in his tone, and neither does he sound particularly pleased by his accurate assessment.
He’s made it clear how he feels about the RIA despite their attempts to recruit him since the day we finished school.
He lifts the bow, pulling the string tight.
“If you’re so desperate for an Alverra, take Freya. She’ll get you anywhere.”
“As much as I adore your sister, she’ll shut every mouth in the vicinity. No anti-royalist is going to slip up around the queen.”
His shoulders, already flexed from drawing the bow, tense in a way that makes my knees wobble; as much as I hate speaking to his back, I can’t be too angry about this view. But then he looses the arrow, missing the center of the target by a few centimeters, and his whole body grows taut.
“Sander, then,” he growls, no longer calm and carefree as he stares at the wayward arrow.
“Your brother is too quiet,” I argue, rolling my eyes.
From what I’ve seen, Aleksander is as skilled in combat as his twin, but that’s not going to help us.
Besides, it’s Hendrik the RIA wants, not his brother.
“We need someone known for letting loose and making people comfortable. Not someone who will make them think they’re being watched. ”
I didn’t think it was possible, but the prince’s muscles bunch tighter.
I only have a moment to study the way his body flexes with each movement before he turns to face me, fingers gripping his bow and leaving his knuckles white.
If I thought his back was impressive, I was not prepared for the sight of his abdomen up this close.
Sweat coats his smooth skin, highlighting each ridge and line.
It takes everything in me to lift my eyes to his face.
He narrows his eyes. “You want someone the antis won’t take seriously or see as a threat.”
I don’t like how that makes it sound, even if he’s partially right. “If that’s how you want to see it. It’s not as if you’re completely untalent—”
“And you wonder why I keep saying no,” he snaps. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you how to ask for things nicely, Storme?”
Frustration bubbles up inside me, escaping my throat in a hoarse growl. I’ve been asking nicely for a year. Now that we have an actual lead and a ticking clock, the time for niceness is past. Besides, he just trapped me in that wall for no reason! I am not the one who needs to work on being nice.
I choke back the desire to scream. I will not give him that satisfaction.
When I’m in control of my emotions again, I speak with a measured calm in my words.
I’ll have to try something new. “Prince Hendrik, there’s a reason I’m asking for your help.
Not only do you outrank everyone in the country except your sister and brother-in-law, but you’re the best of the best within the Palace Guard.
” I gesture to the target full of arrows, nearly all of them sitting inside the bullseye.
“You’re the best shot, the best in hand-to-hand combat, and you notice details no one else sees.
You understand how to put all people, noble or otherwise, at ease.
No one in Candora can boast the skills you can.
I don’t just need a royal, Hex. I need you. ”
I’m pretty sure it’s the nickname that hits him the hardest, and his icy expression slips a fraction. We’ve never had that level of familiarity before, not even when we were in school together.
Shifting his weight, he glances at the target before meeting my gaze again. “What would the mission entail?”
“Interacting with your peers. Distracting them so I can plant some listening devices and watch for anything suspicious.”
“Like someone fueling the unrest that’s been building.”
“Exactly.”
“It won’t be a single mission.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question, which is a testament to how quick his mind is. “Just how long would I have to endure your company if I helped you?”
The fact that he’s asking means I’ve made more headway today than I have in the last year, but I keep my hope in check. He hasn’t said yes yet.