“She’s a princess.” I kept the rag from soaking the letters above my heart. “She knows the customs.”
“If someone–” He bit down on the rest. His gaze met mine in the glass. We both knew what lingered unsaid. Nereus tolerated me, but no treaty meant no shield. If I crossed too far, the man might feed me to Argos and never blink.
“How am I supposed to save you from yourself?” he muttered, turning to tear off his black tunic.
I let the cloth drop, shifting to face him. My hips rested against the dresser’s edge. “Sometimes, you can’t.” He knew that. I’d made choices before, and I would suffer or thrive by them.
“You don’t know how hard it was to watch you in that godsforsaken mockery of a trial.” He folded his tunic with stiff, angry hands. “I couldn’t do anything, and it’s my job to keep you safe. And when you wed Nienna? What then?”
“You remain my guard.” I pressed my lips together, squinting at him.
He laughed without smiling. “You’ll have me here? In your rooms? I’ve seen how you are with her. Do not lie to me. Don’t pretend you’d want anyonenear when you…” He grimaced, dropping his tunic on the dresser. “When you consummate your union.”
There was more to this than just that. Something deeper stirred beneath the surface, antagonizing him from within.
“You will stand guard outside the room,” I said. Measured. Calm. “When it’s done, you’d return to my side.”
His frown deepened. “What about when she’s dressing? When you’re asleep? How do I protect you if I’m not there?”
There it was.
His swords hit the dresser with a loud clatter. More knives followed, metal stacking in sharp, discordant notes.
He didn’t fear for my safety.
He feared being left behind.
When I married Nienna, it would force distance between us.
He’d lose me. And he knew it.
“Greaves, you are my guard. My chosen.” I moved toward him, clapped a firm hand to his shoulder. “You’re mine. You’ve seen her in a nightdress. Gods, I don’t want you seeing her in less, but if it happens, it does so in the name of protection. You will watch over our rooms.”
“And where would you stick me? The receiving room?” He yanked his belt free with a sharp tug, not meeting my eyes. “What if you take a guest there? How unseemly would that be, your guard’s bed in the open? Or should I stand out in the hall through the night?”
“If you don’t sleep when I do, when will you?” I scoffed. “You’ll stay in the suite.”
“And if she refuses?” he asked, his tone clipped. “You know she’s not exactly fond of me.”
“If I have to rip apart the Golden Palace and build you a wing, then so be it.” This had his hackles up. Not even my marriage to Eldeiade had stirred him like this.
His glare slid sideways. “She needs her own protection. I can’t guard you both.”
“I’ll appoint her a Thresher.”
He snorted. “She’ll be thrilled.”
“As thrilled as she is with kahve.” I grinned.
That cracked his edge. His shoulders lowered, and he brushed my hand away, stomping toward the bedchamber. His cot sat at the foot of my bed. He slipped a dagger beneath his pillow, then jabbed a finger at me.
“I choose her guard.”
“I would trust no one else.”
He gave a grunt and dropped to the cot. My brow pulled into a frown. He was older than me, made no complaints, never asked for more. But he shouldn’t sleep on stone-stiff bedding after years at my side. His body deserved better.
Groaning as my back slowly relaxed, the tight muscles releasing the strain of the day, I closed my eyes.
