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Marit couldn’t work him out. And she didn’t like that. Although it was easier to focus on the enigmatic man in front of her than how she felt about Sforzando. She wished she could explain the longing she’d felt to visit the world-renowned blues club. The desire she’d had to see it before returning to Svardia so she could have a moment for herself to take back with her. to remember. to keep her going through the years of her duty.
The waitress placed two drinks down on the table between them. Lykos’s was a dark amber swirl poured over a large ice cube in a short, square, heavy-looking glass, decorated with a twist of orange peel. Hers was a much lighter concoction, still orange, but served in a martini glass with a sprig of rosemary.
She felt Lykos’s eyes remain on her the entire time the waitress was there, cutting through her natural instinct to rebel. That same yearning need she couldn’t explain about Sforzando seemed to bleed onto Lykos. A yearning need for him to see her as she was and not as some spoilt runaway princess.
‘How long do I have?’ she asked. ‘Before you return me to Svardia,’ she clarified in response to the rise of his brow in silent enquiry.
‘Five days.’
She bit her lip. ‘Did he tell you why I’m needed back home?’ she asked.
He nodded, his face half hidden in the shadows of the bar. But not well enough to hide the judgement, the distaste, at what he clearly saw was her running away. He didn’t understand. She could—wouldnever turn her back on her new future. Freya was hurting more than Marit could ever imagine for the loss of a future she had wanted with every fibre of her being. And if taking on her duties and role helped Freya inanyway, Marit would do it. But she would also do it for Aleksander, and for the people of her country, who deserved peace and security and a stable monarchy leading them in uncertain times. She felt that beat as strongly in her heart as her siblings did. She’d just never been called on to prove it. Never been trusted to. So, no. Nothing would stop Marit from returning to Svardia and becoming second in line to the throne.
‘I was always going to go back,’ she said as he reached for his drink and took a sip. She bit her lip, imagining the burn of alcohol on her tongue, and glanced towards her own drink, waiting for the tremble in her fingers to stop before reaching for it. ‘It’s just...’ The fight to prevent the truth from falling onto the table between them was real.
Just say it. He might hear you.
‘There were things I wanted to do. Before I returned to Svardia to take up a royal position that was never meant for me.’
The frown was back, hanging low over his silvery gaze. ‘Like what?’
Like,everything.
Marit’s laugh was heartbreaking to her own ears. ‘Like take a walk in the park without a mass of people following my every move.’
‘You’ve never done that?’
‘Everyone on the university campus knew who I was. And I was under strict instructions from my parents not to cause trouble.’
‘Or what?’ Lykos’s tone was almost dangerous, his gaze intent, a focus that burned.
She shook her head immediately. ‘Nothing like that,’ she assured him, understanding the implication in his question. Her parents were never violent, but their disapproval had been almost physical. Descending further in their opinion had always hurt in a way she still couldn’t understand. ‘But in the end I didn’t have time to. I barely scraped a pass for my degree and that took every second of studying there was.’ It had been the last promise to her parents, before they’d let her be and do what it was she wanted. Go to university. Get a degree. And then she’d be free.
And less than eight months later everything had changed.
‘So, you wanted to go to a blues club without anyone recognising you?’ he asked, returning to the original subject of their conversation.
She nodded, blinking back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.
‘But marriage? To that idiot, André?’
Marit looked at the table. ‘It wasn’t his finest hour. But he is a good friend. He understood.’
‘Understood what?’
‘My situation. My future. That my husband will be chosen by the King of Svardia. That he will be titled, as the legislation requires for the second in line to the Svardian throne. That,’ she said, a silent sob cutting into her words, ‘the first—and last—person I ever kiss will be a stranger.’
Marit hadn’t meant to reveal so much. She was usually better at hiding her feelings, or at least plunging them deep beneath an act of rebellion. Why was it this man that called forth the truth from her without even seeming to ask for it?
She reached for her glass, taking a mouthful of the sweet citrus drink, and blamed the alcohol for the sudden rawness in her throat and the jolt to her heart. Lykos turned in his seat and—with the bend of a single finger on a half-raised arm—summoned the waitress. After murmuring something quietly in Italian, she handed over her pad and a pen and disappeared, by which time Marit had swallowed the hitch in her throat and was composed.
‘Make a list,’ Lykos ordered.
‘Of what?’ Marit asked, catching the pad and pen he slid across the table.
‘Of all the things you want to do before you return to Svardia.’
And, just like that, he surprised her again.
