The King's voice cut through the drizzle. I turned to find him approaching, umbrella held by an aide, concern carved into every line of his face. He looked older in the gray morning light. Worn down by grief and duty and whatever he felt about what had happened between us in his quarters.
“Your Majesty.”
He dismissed the aide with a gesture, stepping close enough thatthe guards stationed around the motor court wouldn't hear. “The city's restless today. Protests planned for the afternoon near Parliament Square. Intelligence suggests increased chatter among radical groups. Nothing concrete, but the noise is louder than usual.”
His hand settled on my shoulder, heavy with unspoken weight. The same shoulder I'd let him touch in firelight. The same hands that had traced my jaw before I'd kissed him back and made a mistake I couldn't undo.
“Keep him safe, Viktor.”
“I will protect him with my life, Your Majesty. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Viktor. I know you will.”
I watched him walk away, back straight despite the weight he carried, and felt something twist in my gut.
“Planning my funeral already?”
Sebastian's voice made me turn. He approached through the drizzle, navy suit perfectly tailored, movements fluid despite the injuries he was still hiding. He looked every inch the prince. His hair styled back. Charming smile in place. The perfect mask for cameras and crowds.
I opened the car door without responding. Professional. Distant. Everything I should've been in the training hall yesterday instead of almost kissing him. Instead of learning what his fingers felt like in my hair and how his breath tasted against my mouth.
He paused before getting in, close enough that I smelled his cologne. Something expensive that probably had a French name I couldn't pronounce. Something that made me want to lean closer instead of maintaining proper distance.
“You're not even pretending this is voluntary, are you?” he said, eyes bright with challenge.
“My orders do not require enthusiasm. They require execution.”
“Everything about you says otherwise.” He slid into the car, that half-smile playing at his mouth. The one that made my chest tight and my hands want to reach for things they shouldn't. “You look like you're escorting me to my execution, not a weapons expo.”
I closed the door harder than necessary and climbed into the front passenger seat.
The driver, Marcus, glanced at me. Young. Twenty-four, maybe. Competent. One of the Sentinel Network's newer recruits. Adrian had vouched for him personally. “Route's clear, sir. Traffic's heavier than usual, but we should make the expo center in thirty minutes. Forty if the protests start early.”
“Stay alert. Something feels wrong today.”
“Yes, sir.” He didn't question it. Good. Men who questioned instinct in this job didn't last long.
The motorcade pulled out through the palace gates. Three vehicles. Two security cars flanking ours. Standard protocol for public appearances in unstable areas.
Not enough if I was right about today.
But I'd been overruled. The King's advisors had insisted that more security would “send the wrong message.” Would make the crown look afraid of its own people.
Politics. Always fucking politics.
London rolledpast beyond bulletproof glass. Gray buildings. Gray sky. Gray people hunched under umbrellas, going about their gray lives without knowing how fragile everything was. How easily it could all shatter. Rain streaked the windows, turning everything into watercolor smears.
In the back seat, Sebastian leaned forward, voice carrying through the partition. “You could smile, you know. For the cameras we're about to face. It would make you look less like you're planning a murder.”
I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. He was watching me with those green-gold eyes that saw too much. That looked at me and stripped away every defense I'd built.
“Smiling is not in my job description.”
“No. But neither is looking like you want to murder everyphotographer in London.” He paused. “Though I admit, some of them deserve it. There's this one guy who keeps asking about my dating life. Very persistent. Very annoying.”
“Want me to shoot him?”
“Viktor Volkov. Did you just make a joke?” Sebastian's grin was immediate. Bright. “I'm writing this down. Historic moment.”
