Page 111 of A Girl and HER Prince
Venice wasn’t so sure about that—Bris had gone hysterical when she’d thought Achilles might be lost to her forever, and now that same naked vulnerability that had broken through his friend’s expression earlier was coming through as he drank in her fiery outbursts.
How had none of them noticed this before? Venice wasn’t sure if even Achilles was aware of how he was watching her.
He knew the feeling. Livvy was still trying to catch her breath, but he noticed how she avoided his gaze. A burst of despair expanded through his chest when he felt her inching away.
Bris twisted around and sprang at Livvy next. “I’m sorry!” She pried Livvy from Venice’s grasping fingers and treated her to a full dose of Bris passion. “I’m sososorry! Super sorry.” Livvy smiled tensely as Bris clutched her with apologetic eyes running over with tears. “I thought you were like some fortune hunter and you’re like an-an…angel.”She’d called that. “If it wasn’t for you…” Bris’s voice broke over the words. “I’m so, so glad my brother found you!” she managed to get out.
Venice’s heart twisted in agony at the bleakness in Livvy’s eyes. He felt it a hundred-fold.
Bris pulled Livvy aside, whispering to her in a voice that was in no way discreet. “Don’t judge us by this trip. I promise the next time we’ll be as sweet as honey…”
Livvy shook her head. “I’m not sure about… more trips.” How could she sound so casual? Venice was torn up at the thought.
“Venice Mnon Tyndarian?” A Greek officer walked up to them, his eyes on the prince, though he kept up the protocol of confirming his identity like he didn’t already know.
Venice straightened to attention, despite the pain, the heartbreak, his reopened injuries; he was his father’s son. It was time to return to his rightful place. “I’m Venice Mnon Tyndarian.” He left out the part about being a prince and heir to the Tirrojan kingdom, but they got the idea.
The soldiers ushered him and Achilles away from the group as they reported their identities through their radios to their superior officers.
His father’s name slid carelessly through their lips. Venice’s Greek was broken at best, but he understood what was happening: Chises Mnon Tyndarian was on his way to the island to collect his children.
“This’ll be fun,” Achilles muttered.
Venice had to sit again. The adrenaline was fading and the aches of reality were settling into a body already screaming out with suffering. In the face of his latest grief, he could barely hold himself upright.
“Get the medics,” Achilles told the nearest Greek soldier.
“He’s injured?”
“Yes,” Achilles’s voice carried his urgency as he knelt next to him. “My friend was stabbed and left for dead when he first came to this island, and now those wounds are infected. They looked pretty bad last I saw them.”
Really? Achilles hadn’t said a word!
Venice kept back a dark chuckle that might’ve been edged with hysteria as the soldier took one look under his bandages and started barking into his radio for a medic.
His father would find a broken man, in many ways. Would he enjoy Venice’s confessions on how right he’d been about everything? “It’s for the best,” Venice mumbled under his breath. “We just need to put this…all behind us and move… forward.”
Achilles gave him a hard look. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Not sure that his best friend had guessed exactlywhathe was surrendering, Venice still felt a need to explain himself, and without anyone else hearing. He kept his voice low, much lower than Bris’s had been. “Livvy isn’t cut out for this life,” he whispered. “My father called it, okay? He should know. He lost every—”
“Shut up.” The same thunderous cloud that had claimed Achilles before had returned with a lightning strike. “No one has any say on our happiness. My mother…” His voice cut off and he ducked his head and tried again, “she thinks…” When that didn’t work, he let out a strangled moan of frustration. “She wouldn’t come with me.”
That probably wasn’t what he was trying to say, but Achilles’s misery made Venice feel helpless. Clysta was stuck with Atreus Mnon in some strange, twisted relationship glued together by lies and manipulation. The tragedy only made Venice more convinced that he had to keep Livvy safe from their world.
That less than cheerful argument wasn’t what his friend needed right now. Venice took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Achilles shouted. “I mean…” Squeezing his eyes shut, Achilles rubbed at his face before dropping his fingers to grab his best friend’s arm. “Thank you,” he said through tight lips. “You came through for me.”
“Of course… we’re family.”
Achilles stiffened. Venice wondered if he’d deny it like he had so many times before, but instead the duke nodded. “That’s why I’m not going to let you get away with throwing away your life either.”
Venice shook his head. “You didn’t and anyhow, this isn’t the same thi—”
“Let me finish before I turn into a stuttering, blubbering mess.” Achilles gave a self-deriding snigger that sounded more familiar coming from him. “What I’m trying to say is, don’t you dare make my same mistakes—we own our lives. No one else says who we are.”
Achilles didn’t know the half of it. Venice rushed to cut him off. “My decision’s made. I’m accepting the call to rule Tirreoy. And if that means I have to make a sacrifice? Well… I’m not looking back.”
