Page 19 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
“Please, Your royal Highness.” A classically beautiful Tirrojan woman with dark hair and dimples that created craters on each side of her face came forward, carrying a clipboard. Bris was immediately drawn to her. “My name is Polly Vasiliou. I’m to be your lady-in-waiting.”
What was this, the middle ages?
“I’m your fourth cousin on your mother’s side,” Polly explained in Bris’s confused silence.
Bris executed a quick curtsy, blushing as she realized she’d performed the archaic motion out of pure nervousness. “Pleased to meet you.” Bris was surprised to realize she truly meant it. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad at the palace if she’d already been assigned a friend.
A man in a gray uniform with a red sash and gold buttons down the front of his jacket nudged past Phoenix to greet them. Achilles was already grinning at him. “Peder?”
What strange twist of fate made it so that they knew each other already? Achilles had only returned to this country when he’d defected to the Myrdons. Turning sharply, she studied the man. He could be brothers with Achilles for how close alike they looked, although this Peder was a much younger, more innocent version of him with closer cropped hair and heavier brows. Were they also related? Or was he just a Myrdon rebel too?
“Achilles!” Peder clapped his hand in his and they held their grip.
“How did you get here?” Achilles asked.
“I worked my way up the ranks of the military,” Peder said. “And now look at me—I’m your new chamberlain.” There was some sarcasm behind the statement, though according to what Bris had been taught, the position was actually quite impressive.
The man would be basically acting as Achilles’s assistant and secretary—strangely, this would open doors for him to take higher positions of leadership in the military. Had her fatherknown of their connection and pulled some strings to put him more at ease? Why would he do that? And yet, that was easier to believe than this being a coincidence. Nothing happened that her father wasn’t aware of.
Achilles turned to Bris to properly introduce them. “Peder’s one of my best friends.”
“Not related?” Bris asked.
“I know, right?” Achilles said in his offhand way. “We used to trick our friends by switching places. Of course, swapping lives only worked when it was dark.”
“Really dark,” Peder interjected. “Usually only at bedtime when we were supposed to be in our own rooms.”
“When our mothers were distracted.” So, this was when they were children?
Phoenix cleared his throat pointedly. “If I may suggest, Your Royal Highnesses, it has been a long day, and you must be weary. Perhaps we should escort you to your chambers so you may rest before tomorrow’s briefings?” His tone was respectful but firm, like a parent gently herding unruly children.
And that guy was just the more obvious of her father’s cohorts. They were surrounded by potential tattletales.
Their every move was under scrutiny. A wave of exhaustion washed over Bris at the thought of living under this spotlight. It also didn’t help that she’d just experienced the most trying day of her life… days—it must be hours past midnight. She glanced back at Polly. “Where’s our room?”
Polly’s fingers clenched her clipboard, and she hurried forward, eager to be of service. “Your Royal Highness, your rooms are this way.” Launching ahead of them, she led them up the stairs. Bris noticed with some alarm that the whole staff was following them.
Achilles bumped her arm. “Hey,” he said. “You doing okay?”
She nodded when she should’ve shaken her head, but they were surrounded as they meandered through halls covered in red carpet and gold-embossed walls. It felt a little bit like being in a royal bird cage. Once again, the enormity of what she faced hit her.
Her attention shifted to Achilles. The brief amusement at being reunited with an old friend had drifted from his face as he straightened his shoulders. He must’ve sensed her gaze, because he caught her eyes with his, the tempest of emotion she saw there reminded her very powerfully that this was their wedding night.
The heat running up her face exploded into pins and needles in her stomach.
She gulped, tearing her gaze away. How did her father even think she could take control of this relationship? Her older brother’s best friend was a man of the world, but for all Bris’s bravado, she was not experienced with love in the least! Was that what she’d get with Achilles or was their connection destined to be shallow? He hadn’t wanted to marry her. At the most, he saw her like a little sister.
That had been nice when… she was younger.
The horrible truth was that Bris was—well, it was shameful really—but she wanted love, but how? Her father had ignored her most of her life and her brother had left for school for so long, that she didn’t know how to connect with men at all, but she had her romantic and foolish dreams. For too long she’d been desperate for attention—and so she walked the walk and dressed the part, and for what? She’d always gotten a big fat nothing in return, when all she wanted was to know what it felt like to be cherished—and for the past few years, she’d come to realize after each failed relationship, that there was only one man she wanted for that role, and that was Achilles.
She was a bigger idiot than anyone knew.
How could she handle such a man? Was he destined to drift away like all the others? She swallowed down her fear. None of her other boyfriends had hurt her, because she just hadn’t cared enough. But now? Her father had paired her with the only man with the power to break her heart.
Being a queen was bad enough, but a broken-hearted queen? Unthinkable. She lifted her chin. She’d fight this! She wasn’t the spoiled Princess Prissy for nothing!
Seconds before gathering her spirits, they reached the door. “These are your suites,” Polly said. “Would you like me to draw a bath, unpack your bags…?”
