Page 103 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
Her lips pressed together in a tight line, and his heart took another nosedive. “What happened to the necklace?”
“I threw it in the river.”
Then they’d be fishing that chained cross out of the rocky streambed… or seeking out Chises Mnon themselves before he came looking for his daughter and stumbled upon O Skia instead. Achilles was formulating a plan when chaos erupted outside their tent—shouting voices, running footsteps, the unmistakable sounds of armed men searching.
“Where’s the Princess?” a harsh voice demanded.
And they were too late!
He cursed under his breath and pulled Bris upright beside him, hastily throwing on his shirt while she reached for that flowing wedding dress he’d been more than happy to peel off her the night before.
She struggled with the intricate back fastenings, and he moved behind her, his fingers fumbling with the tiny pearl buttons while being driven to distraction by the warm silk of her skin beneath his hands. He placed a reverent kiss against her shoulder, reminding himself not to let his wife distract him when they had bloodshed to prevent, decades of misunderstandings to unravel, and a friendship between former best friends to somehow heal—though that last part seemed impossible.
The tent flap ripped open with violent force.
Achilles spun around, rushing to shield his wife. “Do you mind? We’ve just been married!”
Sorta.
His voice died in his throat when he saw Peder stumbling through the entrance. His loyal friend and newly appointed chancellor looked like he’d been through the depths of Hades and back—his usually pristine uniform was torn and filthy. Dirt and what looked suspiciously like blood was smeared across his pale cheek.
“The Myrdons are coming for you,” Peder gasped, clutching his side. “Chises Mnon sent me to head them off, to warn you. I tracked you to this place with that necklace.”
“What happened?” Achilles demanded, noting how his friend swayed on his feet. “Are you okay?”
“You don’t have much time!” Peder shouted desperately. “Listen to me! Your sister has been taken.”
Bris cried out in horror while every muscle in Achilles’s body coiled like a spring, ready for violence. “Where? Where is she?”
“I don’t know! Dominique—he’s a plant! He was sent to take her hostage, and there’s no sign of where they went.” Achilles knew he hated that man! But he’d thought that he was Chises Mnon’s spy. The double-crosser got double-crossed! “Dominique took her hostage during the chaos at the palace.” Peder’s face twisted with pain and self-reproach. “I missed it! So much was happening! After we regained control and accounted for everyone, we discovered Gena was missing. The Myrdons left a message for you—work with them or your sister dies! They said they want Aggie out! Phoenix is behind it all, and…” his voice cracked with betrayal, “Polly was working with him the entire time!”
Bris gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Peder’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes downcast—they’d both suspected it. “What about the Earl?” Achilles growled. “Is he the one behind the Myrdons?”
Peder looked blank. “The Earl of Alexopoulos?”
“Yes.”
The low sound of Black Hawks echoed closer. “Our sources said nothing about him,” Peder said. Shouting erupted outside. The guerrillas had spied the oncoming aircraft. Heavy stomping boots raced past the tent. Peder pushed at Achilles, his hands turning weaker. “Go!” He collapsed against the tent pole, and that’s when Achilles saw the dark stain spreading across his friend’s side.
“You’re hurt!”
“And you will be too if you don’t leave!” Peder’s voice grew faint as he leaned against the bed. “If you have any love for me, you’ll get out of here. I’ll pretend to be you for as long as I can. Wish I had your friend Deedeelicious… she almost made switching places fun again.”
Achilles stared at his dearest friend, remembering all the times they’d fooled everyone as kids, two boys so alike in build and coloring that even their own mothers were tricked. But this wasn’t a childhood prank—this was a death sentence. “Peder, I can’t let you—”
The thunderous roar of rotor blades cut through the morning air, growing louder by the second. Achilles’s eyes met Bris’s—the Myrdons wanted her dead. That’s what this had always been about. The olive canopy might hide them from aerial surveillance for now, but that advantage wouldn’t last for long.
His heart shattered as he remembered his wedding vows from mere hours ago:“I’m done fighting… unless it is to fight for you. I adore you…”Peder was a soldier defending their people, and keeping Bris alive meant keeping their people’s hope alive.
“Do what you have to do,” Achilles told him hoarsely, his hand tightening protectively over Bris. “Just survive this, or I’ll never forgive you.”
Peder nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his pale lips.
Without another word, Achilles ducked out of the tent, covering Bris’s body with his own as they ran through the olive grove. Their feet pounded over the soft Aeaean earth scattered with fallen olives, shadows offering both threat and sanctuary as they fled. Behind them, the peaceful morning erupted into gunfire.
Church bells began tolling in the distance—whether in warning or celebration, he couldn’t tell. They headed for the sound, toward the ancient bell tower rising above the tree line, its stones catching the first golden rays of sunrise over the sparkling sea. He tried to remember every detail of the mad man’s tour of these grounds, desperately hoping the old church where his parents had married might offer sanctuary for his wife.
