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“I heard your father talking to someone.” Theon absently scrubbed his hand through his short, bronze-colored hair. “About your upcoming engagement to Lord Aron.”
She had a difficult time finding enough air to breathe. “And how did he sound?”
“Pleased.”
“That makes one of us,” she grumbled darkly under her breath, her eyes on a horse-drawn cart that rolled down the road next to where they stood.
“You’re not happy about the engagement?” His tone had regained its hard edge.
“Not happy about being forced into doing something that I have absolutely no say about? No, I can’t say that I am.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
Theon shrugged. “I don’t think anyone should have to do what they don’t want to do.”
“Like being assigned a job you weren’t interested in?”
His lips thinned. “It’s different.”
Cleo considered this. “You and me—it’s kind of like a strange marriage. You’re forced to be near me. I can’t escape you. And we’re going to be together a lot now and in the future.”
Theon raised an eyebrow. “So you’re finally accepting this arrangement?”
She chewed her bottom lip as she thought through her questionable decisions today. “I know I shouldn’t have left the palace without telling you. I apologize if I caused you any trouble.”
“Your sister was more than happy to let me know where you’d run off to.”
Cleo gasped. “That traitor.”
He laughed. “Wouldn’t have mattered if she didn’t. Even though this is an arrangement neither one of us might have chosen, it’s something I take very seriously. You’re not just any girl; you’re the princess. It’s my sole duty now to protect you. So wherever you run off to, you can be certain of one very important thing.”
She waited, her breath catching at the intense way the handsome young guard watched her. “And what’s that?”
When he smiled, the look was equally menacing and enticing. “I will find you.”
“I’m told Father’s up to something downstairs.”
Magnus’s voice cut through Lucia’s concentration, startling her. She quickly blew out the candle in front of her, closed her book, and turned to face him with what she knew was a guilty expression.
“Excuse me?” she said as calmly as she could.
Her brother cast an amused glance at her across the shadows of her chambers, with the sleeping area on one side, a curtained bed with stiff linen sheets and a fur-lined blanket, and the seating area on the other. “Am I interrupting something?”
She placed her hand casually on her hip. “No, of course not.”
He drew closer to her lounge next to the window, which looked down to the expansive palace gardens. They were currently covered in frost as they were for all but a precious couple of warmer months. “What are you reading?”
“Nothing of any importance.”
“Mmm.” He raised a brow and held his hand out to her patiently.
Sometimes Lucia didn’t like how well her older brother knew her.
Finally, accepting defeat, she placed the small leather-bound book in his hand. He glanced at the cover, then quickly flipped through it. “Poetry about the goddess Cleiona?”
She shrugged. “Comparative studies, that’s all.”
