Chapter 5
Theora
Throwing Argos out hadn’t helped Theora sleep any better. Nightmares plagued her through most of the night, dreams of gods and monsters, stingers and crowns of blades. Dying, and feeling every moment of it, while everyone in the room simply watched…
She managed to make it through all her meetings without being haunted by the images in her dreams. Or perhaps she hadn’t—she was entirely certain that someone had followed her to work, spied on her during a meeting of parliament.
She prayed she had been the only one to see him.
Because if it was Argos, as she suspected—how could something so large not be Argos?
—then the last thing she needed was for anyone to find out about it.
She set to sorting her clothing and packing her things for the trip. It was a bit early, and she would end up having to steam some of her outfits from their being packed so long, but she couldn’t very well fabricate meetings and events from thin air to distract herself.
It was odd how she had selected a bodyguard to keep her safe in a foreign colony…and now felt paranoid, having dismissed him in her own home.
Served her right, she supposed. She could have handled the situation better. Well, better was an understatement. It had been rash, sending him away so suddenly.
And, oddly enough, it wasn’t even his magic that was the problem—he’d yet to use it at all, as far as she could tell. No, it was the man himself. How could such a man even exist, with no manners, no boundaries…no propriety at all.
She had felt so…untethered in his presence. And if Theora prided herself on anything, it was that she was exceedingly tethered. In control at all times.
But…Sovereign. It had been a long time since a man had driven her to change her panties as soon as he left. To shower first so she wouldn’t dampen the new pair. She had never expected physical attraction to play a role in this little charade, and she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it.
Physical attraction? She scoffed. He’s not even your type.
Then why did you throw him out just because he made you wet?
There was a knock at the door, and Boada walked in without waiting to be welcomed, a large mug that smelled of ginger and honey in one hand and a giant black suitcase in the other.
So, Argos did have more belongings. Of course, Theora assumed it was all Boada’s doing.
After all, how many places did Warriors go that changing their outfits would actually garner any pleasure?
“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Boada asked, setting the suitcase on Theora’s bed with the others. As usual, she asked as if she already knew, which only made it more difficult to lie.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Theora lied anyway. “I just want to make sure everything’s ready for next week.”
Boada sat on the sofa, resting her mug on the arm. “Something’s wrong.”
“I’m just a little preoccupied.” Theora distracted herself by opening the large suitcase. “A week’s worth of things for a man his size can fit in here?”
“So, you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong.”
“Come on, auntie.” Theora sighed. “I’m just…tired.”
“Hm,” Boada said, unconvinced, and took a sip of her tea.
Theora looked through the clothing. Argos was six-foot-eight and broad-shouldered, so dressing him in anything that made him look more like an innocent civilian and less like a giant threat seemed nearly impossible.
Boada had put in a good effort, at least—she’d chosen clothing in gentle shades of blue and white, like loose traditional tunics to hide his muscles. Nothing that would make him stand out.
Pants, shirts, shoes, all in one suitcase, plus one garment bag. It couldn’t possibly be enough. She took out a black rectangular case, opening it to reveal a row of seven watches on secure stands. Beautiful and pristine. Unquestionably expensive.
“There are more watches here than trousers,” Theora noted.
Boada shrugged, grinning. “Our boy loves watches. What can you do?”
Theora blinked. “Does he?”
“Those aren’t even his entire collection. He just selected those to match the outfits I put together for him.” The mug paused at Boada’s lips, her brows lowering. “Where is he, by the way?”
“How should I know?” Theora asked, not quite holding back her annoyance.
“I don’t know, you’re his wife.”
Theora huffed. “Come on, auntie—”
“I was trying to give you the chance to come clean, but you’re just as stubborn a queen as when you were in diapers.” Boada set her mug down and gave the queen a chastising look. “You think I don’t keep track of my Warriors?”
Theora nearly dropped the watches.
“I know you understand the rituals,” Boada went on, “because I’m the one who taught you. So what’s your excuse?”
“I’m sure Argos told you.”
“That’s right. He tells me everything.”
“Everything?” Theora turned away to put the watch box back in its place, if only to hide any signs she was flustered.
He couldn’t have told his handler…everything.
Not about the way he had wiped her with that towel, his hand cradling her lower back…
not about how she had reacted to that simple action.
But all Boada said was “If circumstances were different, I would arrange for you to take Reva instead. She’s used to dealing with the obstinate and entitled.”
“Dread Sovereign, Boada. I am still your queen.”
“And you used to want to sleep in my bed when you had bad dreams.” Boada huffed, rubbing her forehead briefly. “This can never happen again, you do realize that. If you’re going to do this, you have to respect the ritual. You have to do it right.”
“I know,” Theora said with a slight bite in her voice despite knowing the handler was right. But…she had expected to have a bodyguard whom she’d perhaps occasionally have to sit close to and call husband. The intimacy of reality was more than she’d anticipated.
“I don’t think you understand,” said Boada, “how rare a thing it is for a Docile and a Warrior to join in union. It’s a relationship that shouldn’t work.
You need a patient Warrior in control of his magic, and a Docile with enough courage and ability to handle him.
And even with all that, without the proper magic to control his, tragedy could strike at any moment.
Most of all, it takes a mutual respect that can transcend both cultures.
The fact that you were able to claim him at all, even with my instructions to him, that he was gentle with you instead of setting you straight the Warrior way as soon as you even suggested he break ritual… that’s not a small thing, Theora.”
Theora went back to packing her suitcase.
Boada was right, although she didn’t want to admit it aloud.
It was borderline insane, what she was doing, to claim a Warrior with only borrowed magic that could wear off at a moment’s notice.
And his attitude alone was enough to make a weaker person crumble in fear.
So it was a compliment, in Boada’s way of complimenting.
No one else but Theora could pull this off.
At the end of the day, she needed him. And if letting him sleep on the sofa was what she had to do to keep him, perhaps it was doable.
“When you go back to the barracks,” she said, “tell him to come back.”
Boada shook her head. “You claimed him. You have to go get him.”
Theora dropped the blouse she’d been folding. “I have to walk among the Warriors all over again?”
“Without the rope this time, but yes.” Boada stood, finally, gently closing the suitcase in front of Theora to end the distraction.
“This is serious, Theora. You’ve shamed him, dishonored him in the sight of the Sovereign and his peers.
He’ll take you back without any trouble, but only because I’ve done the heavy lifting for you and set him straight.
But you will have to go bring him home yourself. ”
Theora took a moment. The first time had been frightening enough. This time they would know exactly why she was there. Boada didn’t say it, but if Theora had been a Warrior she would have been even more shamed than Argos for sending him away in the first place.
“Right now,” the handler added, prompting Theora toward the door.
“I’m not ready.”
“A queen doesn’t sit back and let her problems fester. She fixes them as soon as she’s able.”
Theora chuckled. “You paid as much attention to my lessons as I did.”
Boada smirked. “I’ve lived through two queens before you. Their lessons are embedded in my mind whether I like it or not.” She patted Theora’s bottom, like a mother prompting her toddler forward. “Go get your husband.”
The barracks were bustling with activity, as usual. Still, when Theora entered, she drew as much attention as the first time, even without the rope. Perhaps this time she should’ve worn something less expensive. Less queenly. She stood out like a sore thumb.
Or perhaps it was just because they knew what she had done.
How she had shamed Argos in the eyes of the Sovereign.
They glared at her from afar, as if she had committed the ultimate crime, and somehow that was worse than all the growling and aggression.
More of a personal attack than a physical one.
If they were ashamed of Argos, they positively hated her.
She nearly jumped out of her skin as something crossed the corner of her eye, and she looked up to see Argos near her, his attention focused just beyond.
It was only then that she heard the growl of another Warrior behind her, and she felt her shoulders wanting to rise to protect the back of her neck.
But Argos stepped behind her, his growl distinct and active.
She didn’t dare turn around, only hearing when the other Warrior backed down as the opposing growl quieted.
She took deep, calming breaths as Argos circled her once, slowly, like a prowling puma. Like a warning to anyone who might approach. Claiming her as his, much as she had done the day before. She didn’t know what he was doing, other than growling, but the other Warriors backed off.