Page 39 of The Queen’s Bodyguard

“I told you not to make this an ordeal, Venita. Besides, what does it matter whom I love?”

The last word seemed to shock the advisor, confusion and anger flashing over her face before she hid them behind a proper Aranean mask. “You are the queen. Love has nothing to do with it.”

“We have more important things to take care of right now,” Theora said, and Argos felt a spark of admiration for her offended tone. “My only concern this week is securing peace. I suggest you shelve any discussions of my personal life for a future date and focus on what’s important.”

And she led Argos onto the train without another word.

The halls were narrow, the spaces small and locked away enough to feel more like a luxurious prison than a mode of transportation. The carpet smelled of baking soda, the air of roses, but smoke and metal were the most dominant scents.

It was going to be hard to pinpoint explosives, he thought, when the entire environment smelled like them—

A loud whistle blew, and the train shifted with a sharp screech. Argos felt his nerves jolt, as he pressed Theora against him with his hand on her rib cage.

“What are you doing?” she said quickly, her heart sprinting. “There’s no sense in starting our deception before we’ve reached Lasius. There’s no danger here.”

The train had begun moving, slowly gaining speed, and Argos watched the station shift out of view through the window.

“No, of course not,” he muttered. “We’re only at the whims of a giant moving machine.”

“It’s just a train,” she said, looking up at him, her brows slightly lowered. “You’ve never ridden a train?”

He shook his head.

But he refused to own up to his nerves, not when Theora’s body against him was growing warmer by the second. She was nervous enough without him worrying her.

Or angry. More likely angry.

It’s not an explosive, Argos. Just a vehicle.

Venita entered the next train car then, giving Argos a scrutinizing glare before shutting the door of her suite. Only then did Theora squirm out of his grasp.

“I thought we discussed keeping space between us,” she whispered harshly, and pressed forward down the hall.

Theirs was appropriately called the Royal Suite, and it looked like a small, well-furnished apartment. There was only one bed, which just showed how late Argos had been added to the guest list. Thankfully, there was a couch, which was a better option than the floor, even if it was a little small for him. He probably wouldn’t sleep anyway. They were headed out of the colony, which meant his job had truly begun.

He checked the small room quickly for any signs of danger, then took his weaving project from his pocket and sat on the couch. He had to finish it before they arrived, although he wasn’t sure he could convince Theora to wear it for the talks—she had already, very deliberately, selected both of their outfits for each day.

He glanced up to see her watching him work. He raised a brow—people weren’t usually interested in watching each other weave. It was so…normal.

“You’re not weaving armor, are you?” she asked.

“It’s a tunic,” he replied.

“Because we’re not allowed to have armor there.”

“Oh, okay.”

His tone was level, no obvious sarcasm. But then, he loved taking advantage of the fact that Theora really couldn’t tell the difference.

To ease her doubt, he allowed his creation to unfold to show her. He took it as a compliment that Theora let out a subtle breath of awe—he could agree it was quickly becoming one of his favorite weaves to date. It was iridescent, like moonlight captured in dew. Something shiny to distract from the slight armor weave.

“Well, I suppose it’s too thin to be armor,” she said. She was still skeptical, but it was nice to see that his technique had served its purpose.

He shrugged. “I told you.”

“It’s not another attempt at a trophy, is it?” she asked, and there was something in her tone that sounded…curious? Hopeful? No, he’d mistranslated. A woman like Theora would never be so foolish as to lock herself into a marriage over a singular pretty dress.

“What makes you think this is for you?” Again, an even tone, but a slightly raised eyebrow betrayed his teasing.