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Shocked, I stare at her.
Somehow, I managed to twist my arm before stabbing the female in the belly.
I can hardly believe that these are her portals, her magic.
But now that I’m standing in front of her again as I did during the winter wedding when she burned her dress in front of thousands of people, thereby exposing her beautiful body that I can’t get out of my head, I recognize her magical signature.
I also recognize her beautiful body.
Long red hair hangs over her shoulders, dripping water over her flimsy white dress. I frown as I take in the sight of her. Not a dress, but a nightgown. There’s crimson washing off her hands that looks and smells suspiciously like blood.
One by one, the portals burst like bubbles in the air until every last one of them is gone and the female throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Oh, thank the fates, it’s you.” She looks up, green eyes filled with tears. “He’s dead, Commander, he’s dead. There was blood everywhere.”
“Who’s dead?” I ask.
“My husband.”
The reminder that the female is married to the Spring prince makes me remove her hands from my body and gently push her away. I hold her by the wrists, as is more appropriate, and also because clearly she needs comfort and strength that I can’t otherwise provide.
Some of the crimson from her hands is smeared across my white shirt.
“How did he die?”
She must notice my accusatory tone because she shakes her head vehemently. “It wasn’t me, I swear it. No, sir, not me. I found him in his chambers.” She speaks rapidly. “On his bed. With others. There could’ve been more. I don’t know. And then I checked him, you understand. Sir, I touched him, you know, I touched his pulse.” She becomes more distressed, bordering hysteria. “He was dead. I tried getting help, but when I turned around, the guards blocked the door, and I could see they thought I did it like I see you think I did it. But I didn’t do it. Please, Commander, you have to believe me. The king!” she shouts and points at her temple. “Your king can see inside my head, and tell everyone I speak the truth.”
The king is not here, and even if he were, there’s no way I’d grant her an audience with my king before I have thoroughly confirmed her innocence. “If I release you, will you promise to behave?”
Nodding, she bites her bottom lip.
I squeeze her wrists and release them then unbutton my shirt and remove it so I can put it around her shoulders. It seems I’m always dressing her.
“Let’s chat in my office.”
As we walk off the beach, the flock of iron birds hovering over us follows, and the princess grabs my arm. “What are those things?” she whispers.
“They’re just birds. They will not harm you.”
The princess clings to my arm for dear life. Since her incident with the dress while she danced with me, her clinging onto me could be misinterpreted, and rumors like that could spearhead rumors that she got rid of her husband in favor of me. While highborn females, particularly mothers of single daughters, often spy on me, I care little about what they’ll say of me. However, for her sake, I stop and disengage her arm, instead offering her my elbow.
She looks around. “Of course. Sorry about that.” Gently, she places her hand atop mine. “By that I mean sorry about hanging from you as if you were my coat hanger and not a gentle male. And also, if I may, now that we are not in the company of thousands as we were at the wedding when I burned my dress, I want to say I’m sorry about that too.”
“Apologies aren’t necessary, Princess.”
“You can call me Chloe.”
I wouldn’t dare call her anything besides her title, because I have a feeling that once I roll her sensual name down my tongue, I might never be able to suppress the pleasure of how it felt when I pronounced it.
Finally, we reach the steps, and I climb them one at a time, even though under the circumstances, I wish to climb all three in one go. The special unit, a select few males that outperform the rest of the males, but have no desire to lead their own squadrons, stand at attention near my office. One of them is my youngest recruit, Mason, who opens the door.
His gaze strays toward the princess, whose wet white nightgown does nothing to hide her many curves. He stalls as she looks at him and sucks in a breath. The Spring princess, much like our lovely Fleur, can stop a male’s train of thought with a single glance.
“After you.” Gently, I nudge her into the office by placing my hand at the small of her back. She walks inside and stands awkwardly beside the door with her hands folded in front of her. I don’t have time to correct her on the way a princess should walk into a room, because I must correct my soldier first.
“Mason,” I say.
“Yes, Commander.” He pulls back his shoulders and taps his sword.
“What do we do when our beautiful princess comes into my office?”
