“Thanks.” I handed him the tablet, let my fingers brush his for just a second. Felt the heat of that brief contact like an electric shock. “Don't work too hard.”
“Someone has to. You clearly are not.”
I grinned despite myself. Despite everything. “Ass.”
“Prince.”
Élodie cleared her throat. “Should I come back?”
“No, we're done.” I called Apollo, and he bounded up, tail wagging. “Come on, boy. Let's see what Father wants.”
I followed Élodie back toward the palace, very aware of Viktor behind me. Of the fact that I wanted to look back. Wanted to see if he was watching me walk away.
I didn't let myself look.
Élodie waited until we were inside before speaking. “You're being careful, right?”
“About what?”
“Sebastian.” She stopped, turned to face me fully. “I'm not blind. Neither is anyone else who's paying attention.”
My stomach dropped. “I don't know what you're?—”
“You can lie to the rest of them. Don't lie to me.” Her voice was gentle. Worried. But something flickered in her eyes. Something I couldn't quite read. “I've known you too long. I see how you look at him. How he looks at you when he thinks nobody's watching.”
I glanced around. The corridor was empty. But that didn't mean much in this place.
“It's dangerous,” she continued. “Not just for you. For him too. If anyone finds out?—”
“I know.”
“Do you?” She touched my arm. Her hand was warm. Familiar. But her grip was just slightly too firm. Just slightly too controlled. “Because you're looking at him in gardens where anyone could see. You're smiling in ways you haven't smiled in years. You're—” She stopped. Softened. “You're happy. And it scares me because happiness makes you careless.”
“I'm being careful.”
“Are you?” Her eyes held mine. Green like mine. But somehow colder today. Sharper. “Because from where I'm standing, you're falling in love with someone you can't have. And that only ends one way.”
“Maybe I'm already there,” I said quietly. “Maybe it's too late to be careful.”
She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, something almost like pain crossed her face. But it was gone too fast to be sure. “Oh, Sebastian.”
“I know it's stupid. I know it's impossible. I know it's going to end badly.” I looked at her. At my oldest friend who'd covered for me for years. “But I can't stop. Don't want to stop. For the first time since she died, I feel like I can breathe. Like there's something worth living for beyond hunting and grief.”
“Then at least be smart about it.” She squeezed my arm. Something flickered in her expression. Regret? Calculation? I couldn't tell. “Please. I can't lose you too.”
The words sounded right. But something about the way she said them felt rehearsed. Like she'd practiced caring.
“You won't.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” The lie tasted bitter, but necessary. “I'll be careful.”
She nodded, not believing me but accepting it anyway. Her hand lingered on my arm for a moment longer than necessary. Like she was memorizing the touch. Or cataloging it.
“Your father's in his study. Try to look less like you've been thinking about your bodyguard's hands.” She smiled. That familiar, gentle smile I'd known my whole life. But today it didn't quite reach her eyes. “I'll make sure your afternoon schedule is clear. You look like you need sleep.”
She kissed my cheek. Quick. Efficient. Then turned and walked away before I could respond.
