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An attempt on her life, he could not allow. Not because he had—as she’d said—played God and upset the balance without ensuring she had adequate protection. But because if he did, then what would the point of any of it be?
To spend a life avenging one woman, while causing the harm of another.
It was everything he despised. Powerful men playing games with the world and women falling victim to them. Not because they weren’t important, or smart, or strong at their core. But for want of that elusive power granted by society and the physical strength needed to fight off an enemy.
Annick needed muscle.
It could easily be him.
“Yes. The question is who do I trust, eh? I am left with a military, but who is loyal to me, really? I do not think I have the skills to ferret that out.”
She didn’t. Not like he did. She was small and pale and determined as hell, but she was not a military tactician. But he couldn’t help her like she truly needed him to. Not with limited power.
There was a path forward that seemed clear to him, immediately.
“You might have yourself a deal,” he said. “But I will have conditions.”
“Yes,” she said, waving a hand. “You would not be a good mercenary if you didn’t have conditions.”
“I’m not a mercenary,” he said. “Not technically. And anyway, aren’t you mercenary?” he asked.
“Clearly. To an extent. Would you like a drink?” She maneuvered around the cabin of the plane, the white outfit she was wearing flowing around her body, revealing curves that he had not realized were there. She had a generous behind, and her breasts were nicely rounded.
But that didn’t mean he’d take her up on her offer. There were always women.
He did not need this one.
“How do I know you won’t poison it?”
“I have already proven I have a willingness to poison you. It is whether or not you decide to trust me that I can help you with. I’m willing to do what I must to get you back to my country. You are already on the plane. So, why would I bother to do anything extreme now?”
“Whiskey.”
“That is this?” She held up a bottle with amber liquid inside.
“Yes.”
“I have never been allowed to drink,” she said. “It would not do. For I had to maintain a visage of...purity. That’s what it is. Pure, snow-white Princess.” She indicated her outfit. “The symbol of the spirit of Aillette.” She made a tutting sound. “Such lies.”
“Why did they do that?”
“Why? Because the people were restless with the monarchy, but it was not ever popular to kill my family, even in the name of a revolution. It was not that my father was such a great King, but tradition matters. And so demonstrating that I was still there, and keeping me as some kind of symbol, I think it was to give people a good feeling. Limited though my outings were. I am far too talkative.”
“Shocking.”
“And I suppose sometimes it worked. Though now the people are convinced I’m fragile. Even though I outlived the men who took over the country. So, who is fragile?”
“You’re not fragile,” he said. “Clearly.”
That pleased her, he could tell. Though she tried not to smile, she fairly beamed from the inside out.
“I’m not,” she agreed. “I’m quite ruthless.”
“That is apparent.”
“I do what I must. I am what I’ve had to become to survive. You understand.” The creature thought she was a sight more frightening than she was, that was obvious.
Though he did understand her. That was the problem he could understand all too well. What happened when you were left behind.
