Page 5 of Forbidden Royal Vows

So Caius had come to her little palace in the mountains instead.

She wore a tiara tonight, in case the throne behind her did not give away her status. The bejeweled concoction sat on her smooth, glossy dark hair that looked like ink tamed into a sophisticated twist and dared any man brave enough to reach out and try to touch her.

Though he did not. And not because he was lacking in bravery. On the contrary, he had only recently taken a step back from his more high-octane activities, all of them death-defying, and only because he had done them all.

Even adrenaline got boring if you had too much of it.

But he had chosen this battle specifically, and there was no point getting ahead of himself now when he’d gone to all the trouble to ingratiate himself with half the aristocracy in this tiny country. Something that had involved him deigning to notice them, since he was, being himself, far more famous and sought after than a host of interchangeable blue bloods.

That was not arrogance on his part. It was a simple truth.

He had often been called the most beloved guest in modern Europe. That was partly because he was a great delight, if he said so himself. But it was also because his attendance at any given party made it the party.

That, too, was simply a fact.

Really, the monarchy of Las Sosegadas should thank him for deigning to attend at all.

Caius lifted his gaze to hers at last, taking no small amount of pleasure in how stunned Mila looked. There was no trace of anything he would call thankful on that gaze of hers, a perfect oval saved from any insipid sameness by that strong, Roman nose that made her something else than simply pretty. That and her mouth, a wide, sensual feast that she mostly kept pressed into a dutiful line.

Though not now, he was pleased to see.

And there was something in the gray depths of her gaze, rimmed in a darker steel, that he recognized. It shot through him like more of that inescapable flame, though he doubted she would appreciate it if he reminded her where and when he’d seen a look like that before.

That made him want to tell her even more.

Because none of this was about what she appreciated.

If she had wanted him to consider such things, she would have handled the past five years much, much differently.

On the other hand, he did have a plan. Such as it was.

So he only held her gaze, which was not exactly good etiquette. Not so directly. Not for so long. But more tellingly, she continued to stare back.

And Caius had watched enough videos of Queen Emilia’s much-swooned-over perfect manners to know that this was unusual.

As it damn well should be, he thought then.

Next to the Queen, her mother, once Queen Alondra and now the Queen Mother, clearly noted that something was amiss. She drew herself up with a sideways glance at her daughter for only the briefest, nearly imperceptible instant before stepping forward and claiming Lady Paula’s attention.

“I trust your parents are well?” the older woman asked, with a bite behind her words that even he could hear. Clearly Paula could as well, because she let out that high-spirited laugh of hers again, infectious enough to make Caius almost wish that he had it in him to move on.

But he could not seem to break his stare. He could not look away from Mila.

And as he watched, he saw the Mila he had known five years ago first bloom in her expression, then disappear again.

Until the Queen took her place.

She made the transition very clear and unmistakable. It was something about her posture. Something about the tilt of her head, or perhaps the elongation of her neck. One perfect dark brow rose, just slightly.

Yet still elegantly.

“I forget myself, Your Majesty,” Caius said, and he could see that his voice affected her. He saw the faint hint of color on her cheeks. That glimmer in her gray gaze.

He still got to her. That was good.

Caius had not exactly planned what he might do if she looked at him as if he was a stranger. He had not allowed it as a possibility.

Instead of interrogating himself on that topic he executed a bow so deep and so perfect that it bordered on parody. That was the point. She had once accused him of using his grasp of excruciatingly proper and gloriously correct manners as a weapon. So efficiently and so ruthlessly that he was already bludgeoning the haughty and the arrogant before they even realized there was a weapon in the room.

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