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“Yes, really. It was a conversation.”
“Looked like an interesting conversation.”
She furiously wiped at her eyes with the long sleeves of her dress. “It was not.”
In a split second, Theon’s expression shifted from anger to concern. “Are you certain that everything’s all right?”
“What do you care? All I am to you is an assignment handed down from the king.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched, as if she’d slapped him. “Excuse me for asking.” Clarity dawned on his face a moment later. “Wait. You went there to confront Lord Aron about what happened in Paelsia. You feel bad about it.”
Her chest ached. His words could apply to many things she felt bad about. “Let us go back to the castle.”
“Princess, you were blameless. You need to know that.”
Blameless? She wished he was right. She’d stood by and watched helplessly as the boy was killed. And months earlier, she’d allowed Aron to have his way with her, blaming the wine even as it was happening, not her own decisions. He hadn’t forced himself on her. At the time, in her intoxicated haze, she had welcomed the amorous attentions of a handsome lord sought after by many of her friends.
She shook her head, her throat tight. It hurt too much to swallow. “The death of that boy haunts me.”
ushed his hand away, her cheeks flaming. “I must go.”
“Not yet.” Aron closed the distance between them and pulled her tight against his chest, digging his hand into her long hair to pull it from its loose twist so it hung freely to her waist. “I’ve missed you, Cleo. And I am glad you came to see me in private this morning. I think about you often.”
“Let me leave,” she whispered. “And say nothing about this.”
He caressed the side of her throat, his gaze darkening. “Once we’re engaged, I’ll ensure moments of privacy like this will be much more frequent. I look forward to that.”
Cleo tried to push against his chest, but he was strong. Stronger than he looked. She’d only succeeded in reminding him of the night she’d shamed herself and her family. He seemed to relish this secret they shared while she would rather purge it from her mind forever.
And, goddess, his breath smelled like he’d been drinking and smoking since sunrise.
There was a sharp knock on the partially open door. Aron’s fingers dug into her sides, and he cast a dark look over his shoulder as the door creaked open.
“There you are, princess,” Theon said casually.
Aron let her go so abruptly that she had to struggle to keep her balance and not go sprawling to the floor.
Theon looked from her to Aron and his eyes narrowed. “Is everything well here?”
“Well. It’s well,” she replied, throat full. “Very well. Thank you.”
His fierce expression showed that he didn’t find any humor in the thought that she’d snuck off behind his back. In fact, his gaze was hot enough to burn.
Still, she was more than happy to leave with her angry bodyguard than stay here a moment longer with Aron.
“I want to go back to the palace,” she said firmly.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now.” She straightened her shoulders and glanced at Aron.
He looked bored. On the surface, anyway. Deep in his eyes was an unpleasant flicker—an unspoken promise that the drunken night she wanted to forget would only be the first of many between them. She shuddered.
She had to convince her father to end this nonsense. The king hadn’t made Emilia marry her fiancé. This shouldn’t be any different.
If Aron ever told her secret after that, she would … simply deny it. She could do that. She was the princess. Her father would believe her over Aron, even if she spoke lies out of necessity. That night would not ruin her. It could not. She refused to allow Aron to have that kind of power over her a day longer than he already had.
“See you soon, Cleo,” Aron said, stepping outside when they did. He lit another cigarillo as he watched them leave.
