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He pushed open the door and stood aside so she could go in. But she didn’t. She stood there, looking at him and frowning. There was something in her eyes that made him feel strange, as if someone had taken his heart in their hands and was slowly twisting it.
Why had he told her that? She was a soldier through and through, and she’d judge him the way his father had. View him with disdain and contempt the way the rest of the army did. Not that her opinion mattered to him one way or the other.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he said. ‘Or I’ll start thinking you want to sleep with me after all.’
He’d meant to push her away, but apart from a slight twitch of her brows, she paid no attention to his petulant remark. Instead she said, ‘It bothers you, doesn’t it? That you didn’t choose death.’
His jaw hardened. ‘Cowardice is a crime. Though I guess it’s not in the same league as weeping in front of a roomful of soldiers.’
The words dripped with sarcasm and they had the desired effect.
He wasn’t surprised when she abruptly turned away. What he was surprised about was the disappointment he felt when she shut the door in his face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CALISTAWOKETOlight coming through the windows that was the soft, dusky pink of twilight. She must have slept half the day away, though maybe that wasn’t any surprise, given the shocks of the past twelve hours.
She’d been exhausted after the conversation with Xerxes downstairs and had simply lain down on the big white bed in the big white room he’d shown her to and gone to sleep.
Possibly she’d been so tired because of what they’d talked about, since she hadn’t expected to confess those things to him. Hadn’t expected him to confess things to her, either.
Such bleak things, too. Things she’d never guess a prince would be subjected to. He’d been tortured. And, despite not taking that pill, he hadn’t broken and his father had still exiled him.
Why? Why had his father assumed he would break? Why had his father assumed he was weak?
You think you’re weak for weeping...
She let out a breath and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, contemplating his last sarcastic comment and how it had hit her somewhere vulnerable. He hadn’t liked her asking him questions and so he’d turned into the tiger again, snapping at her with those sharp teeth. She’d been tired, and she’d felt vaguely ashamed of how large her own weakness had loomed in her life, especially when his had been infinitely more serious.
She should have found it contemptible that he’d failed to swallow that capsule, that he’d put his own obvious anger at his father ahead of the good of his country. Yet...she didn’t. And maybe that was because it so obviously bothered him that he hadn’t. He’d clearly expected her to judge him for it, too, though why her opinion would matter to him, she had no idea.
What she did know was that he wasn’t weak. Nothing about him was. He was so strong physically and it must have taken a tremendous amount of mental strength to return to a country that he knew had condemned him.
And it was clear, also, that he felt very strongly about keeping their child safe, and she couldn’t help but respect that. She was a protector herself and his total commitment to the child they’d created was admirable.
She did want to know why he felt he’d failed people, though, because he had told her that. And that he wasn’t going to fail again.
So who had he failed? His father? His brother? Who else?
Perhaps that didn’t matter though. What mattered was that this was clearly a mission for him and one he was determined to complete whether she wanted it or not.
So where did that leave her? She could keep on refusing to marry him, but that wouldn’t stop the little life inside her from growing. Or from needing protection when it was born. No, she hadn’t asked for this to happen, but she’d made an error and this was the consequence, and she couldn’t avoid taking responsibility.
Xerxes certainly wasn’t, which meant she could do no less. She’d been thinking with her heart, not her head, so maybe she needed to think like a soldier and regroup, re-strategize.
He’d said that the role of a prince or princess was to defend, to protect, to serve, and she hadn’t thought of it like that before. It made sense. If she married him, she’d be a princess, which meant she would still be serving Axios. And she’d be protecting her child, too.
In which case, if he was going to be her husband, it would probably be a good thing to do a little reconnaissance on said husband, check out the lay of the land, so to speak. She’d made a start already downstairs, but that had only left her with more questions.
She rolled over and stared towards the big windows that looked out over the sea. The gauzy white curtains had been drawn over the glass, making the light diffuse and milky, but she could still see the sea sparkling beyond. It was very peaceful here with nothing but the faint sound of the waves breaking against the rocks and the cries of the gulls.
What would Xerxes be like as a husband? What did marriage even mean? The only example she had was her parents and that wasn’t a stellar example. Her mother had been so sweet and loving, and yet she’d ended up betraying both her husband and her daughter, leaving them for another man, another life.
A better life than what she had with you.
Pain dug sharp claws into her, though she tried to ignore it. No, her mother had been weak, that had been the issue. She’d wanted love, or so she’d shouted at Calista’s father, but she’d had love. Calista had loved her with all her heart, but in the end that hadn’t been good enough for Nerida. She’d walked away from her husband and her daughter without a backward glance.
No, Calista’s father had been right that night when he’d told her that love was a lie. That it was a weakness. That it had no place in the life of a soldier. And, since she would still be a soldier married to Xerxes, it would have no place in hers.
