Page 61 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
As if summoned, the elderly chambermaid appeared, her graying hair escaping from her usual neat bun. Her weathered hands tugged at a woolen shawl she’d used to cover her faded blue nightgown. “Elena and the babies,” she wailed. “They’ll never get out in time.”
Polly immediately left to comfort the distraught woman while Bris ran back into her room to get some shoes. These were her people, her responsibility. If anyone tried to stop her from lending them aid, she’d have their head! Her fingers scraped over her galoshes—a staple of her wardrobe since moving to this rain-soaked country.
Unsurprisingly, Achilles was the first to find her dressing for battle… or attempting it. Her feet wouldn’t get into the sensible pants she’d stolen from him. She was a nervous wreck! His hands ran over her arms. “It’s going to be okay—these people are survivors. They’ve weathered storms before. They can hold out until we get emergency supplies to them.”
Bris nodded, looking down at her trembling hands. How could she summon the courage she’d need to be the queen her people deserved in this crisis?
It was then she felt his gentle touch on her cheek and looked up to find his gaze on her.
“Bris, this thing happening between us? It’s not over, okay? I want you to trust me… I want to find a way to prove myself, to banish every suspicion you have of me working with the Myrdons… but I’m going to be completely honest with you—I want more than that.”
More?
“I thought I could make this marriage just a political alliance, let our lives run separately, allow you to find happiness elsewhere…” His dark eyes bored into hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “That’s not going to work. I want more. So much more.”
She squared her shoulders, feeling something shift inside her—from girl to woman, from princess to queen. The storm raged around them, but for the first time since their wedding, Bris felt strong enough to face whatever came next. Achilles was by her side, for better or worse.
Please, God, let it not be for the worse!
His fingers found hers and for just a moment, the wild uncertainty inside her was tamed. Myrdons, floods, assassination attempts—she’d fight them all if it meant protecting her people.
Chapter Nineteen
Tuesday, December 17th, DAY 26
— Early morning—
Thesandbagsfeltlikelead in Achilles’s arms as he heaved another one against the ancient stone retaining wall, rain lashing his face with stinging force.
The barrier had held back floodwaters for generations, but tonight it groaned under the relentless assault of the swollen river. Would reinforcing the wall buy them enough time to evacuate Ilion? They might avoid the worst of the flooding if they worked fast enough.
“These things happen! There’s nothing you can do!”His father-in-law’s dismissive warnings had tried to keep them back, serving as a stumbling block when they’d tried to call in military help… until they’d been forced to work behind Chises Mnon’s back, rallying their security teams and whatever volunteers they could find from the palace.
Below them, the bright tenements—those cheerful houses painted in mint green, powder blue, and happy oranges—looked like children’s toys scattered in the path of destruction. The little red schoolhouse sat perilously close to the wall, its makeshift classrooms now dark and empty.
Bris was beautiful, even drenched to the bone, his stolen brown work trousers clinging to her legs, black shirt plastered against her as rain pounded relentlessly against her determined form. Nothing he said would keep her away from here. Mud smeared her rosy cheeks, her golden eyes never far from tears at the disaster facing her people.
He’d do anything to take that pain from her. After she’d found that Myrdon ring, he still wasn’t sure how much of her trust he’d shattered. All of that was put on pause now.
They’d worked through the night at relief efforts, making frantic calls to her father, emergency contacts, anyone with deep pockets who might fund rescue operations. They’d made deals and promises to devils in exchange for political favors that would cost them their souls, while other potential helpers just laughed in their faces at the thought of lending aid. They hadn’t even bothered with Alexopoulos.
Despite the threat of their communications being monitored, Charisse had answered Achilles’s call on the first ring, purring sympathetically about “those poor children” and promising her father’s help, but when would it actually arrive?
He’d never felt so helpless in his life. Strangely, he felt more useful here with the people working knee-deep in muddy ditches, where he was probablymostuseless. Why couldn’t he have secured more help for them? The wealthy elite were apparently running to their own mansions, packing up their valuables while the poor drowned.
There was nothing like a disaster to expose the flaws in their government. And now as he moved in steady rhythm, passing sandbags hand over hand with the desperate volunteers and members of their security team, he thought about what had been said… and unsaid.
If his father was still alive, what did that mean for everything he’d believed? He heaved another bag onto the growing barrier, his muscles screaming in protest. Bris had confided in him about wanting their marriage to be real… the admission had sent a wave of soaring hope through him that was almost as strong as the prickly wariness consuming his overworked system.
What about love? Was this just duty driving her confession? He knew what he wanted, but did she? How could he be sure when her father had taught her everything she knew? Did she even know what love was?
Did he? Flings, one-night stands, women whose names he’d forgotten by morning… his heart sank at his pathetic romantic history. Of course, he wasn’t worthy of her. Her earlier words about him punishing himself echoed through his mind.
So what! He thoroughly deserved it. And he’d perfected the art—blaming himself for his mother’s captivity, for failing to preserve his father’s memory, for every mistake that had led them to this point. Either way, staying away from Bris seemed like appropriate penance… but he couldn’t bring himself to do that anymore. She was becoming a part of him.
For not the first time since the flood started, he was muttering curses under his breath and feeling like his heart was being pulled in a million different directions.
“The wall’s springing leaks to the west,” Peder called out, his uniform now as muddy and disheveled as everyone else’s. He moved around the burly security team working in perfect synchronization, his closer-cropped hair plastered to his head. “We need to get these people to higher ground soon.”
