Page 71 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
By tying their hands so they couldn’t help their kingdom? Suspicions ran through his mind. Had their shadow government caused a mini emergency, so that they’d have the power to tighten their control in the name of “security?”
Achilles straightened. “May I remind you that you work for me, not the other way around?”
“Try using my expertise—I assure you that you’ll find it satisfactory.”
Was it true? There was only one way to find out. “Show me to the prisoner then,” Achilles said. “Where is he?”
The chancellor seemed to steel himself, and in an instant, Achilles knew why. “That would be impossible, Your Highness,” Phoenix said. “He has been tried and executed.”
“Without my knowledge or permission?” Achilles asked in a low voice. If it rose, he knew he’d be shouting.
“His death was by order of the people—it is how it is done here, Your Royal Highness.”
Another subtle dig on how these “foreigners” were ignorant of these people’s ways, and behind that, a look of grim satisfaction. Achilles knew the truth the instant he detected its presence. “You were behind the execution—this was you!”
Phoenix raised his hands in a conciliatory move that contradicted his brightened eyes. “I am merely a servant of the people.”
Not servant to his sovereign? The unspoken was unmistakable. The High Consortium ruled him, wanted to bury the Shadow’s secrets. Strangely a touch of sorrow wove its way though his heart. There was no time to pursue it. Something must be done,should’ve been doneto neutralize this problem long ago. The conviction hit him with the force of this flood. Venice had lost his claim to the throne because he’d been unwilling to accept these babysitters, and Achilles could only hope that would be the same for him and Bris. Time to be free, once and for all!
“Is that so?” Achilles was aware he sounded like a purring lion about to pounce, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Well, as you are not presently serving me, Sir Phoenix of Stavros, I release you from your duties. You are no longer our Chancelor.”
The man’s head lifted. The barely concealed malice and superiority moved to his sneering lips. “It is not for you to say who is Chancelor.” And perhaps that had been the problem all along. “We shall see what the royal princess, Bris Tyndarian, decides about you undermining her father’s commands.”
Achilles smirked with no humor. Now he was threatening to tattle to his wife? Had he no shame? “We’re done here.” He turned to the security chief at the desk. “Call in palace security and take this man from my sight.”
“Ah! A bloody Myrdon spy,” Phoenix hissed. “We all suspected it—and now you’re to throw a loyal servant into the middle of the flood with no thought for my security?”
Maybe he could say “Hello” to Peder and Polly and the rest of the town he’d left to their own devices down there? He settled a dangerous grin on the man, still addressing the guard. “Be sure to drop him off on high ground, so he can see his failures for himself.”
Phoenix snarled out in anger, whipping back to the security chief. “I demand to speak to Her Royal Highness.”
The hapless guard turned from one to the other, unsure of whose orders to follow. Achilles’s temper snapped. Even their security was confused on who ruled. “I see, Phoenix, you’d like to be sacked twice. Go ahead!” Achilles waved his hand generously at the panicked security chief. “Inform the princess that we have asituation.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
WherehadAchillesgone?He’d kissed her with the passion of a man who was in love. Her lips fairly burned with the promise she’d felt behind his touch, and then he’d left her.
Bris was back into her dry clothes—well, her husband’s dry clothes. His sweatpants were soft and warm against her skin,the fabric carrying the faint masculine scent of him, the perfect retreat of comfort after she’d taken her quick shower.
She’d thrown her wet hair into a tangled mass of a ponytail and spent the rest of her time worrying about Polly and Peder and the rest of the survivors from the town of Ilion. Even now, each breath felt like a gift. Never mind her aching head and how her vision danced from pure exhaustion.
Or was that because she’d gotten punched in the face? She sighed, staring through the mirror at the bruise swelling across her cheek in the shape of Aggie’s vicious fist. What a night!
Sophia had gently guided young Yiorgos away to settle him in one of the guest chambers—perhaps the first real bed he’d had to himself ever. When she returned, her lined face creased with concern as she asked about his mother.
“I don’t know!” Bris felt the tears well up in her eyes, hot and immediate. “He was all alone. I pray she is safe… and knows that he is too. She must be out of her mind with worry!”
“My dear!” Sophia’s rough hand found hers, squeezing with surprising strength. “We will find his mother. You get rest. Sleep.”
How? The woman’s eyes were soft on her, like they hadn’t been before—a warmth that seemed to wrap around Bris like a maternal embrace. Was it just her or was everyone treating her differently than before, with more concern and—and acceptance?No, more like reverence.It was almost as if they could scarcely believe that the cold princess was actually cradling a dirty child from their village, or had deigned to run to their defense? Yet, what kind of ruler wouldn’t? Who did they think she was?
She was out of her mind with worry. There had to be a way to do more. Perhaps seeing her distress, Sophia lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “You are heroes—you and the others who volunteered at that wall! You do not know my sister Elena,but she was there when the levee broke. She saw you trying to keep back the waters, risking your own life so the villagers would have time to escape. She thanks you and your good husband—you gave them hope when all seemed lost.”
“Yes,” Dr. Kostas agreed, nodding and adjusting his wire-rimmed spectacles. “You put yourself in much danger for us.” He patted her arm. “Too much!” He was the palace physician, who’d inspected her bruises and her stinging wrist with gentle, practiced hands, but her injuries were minor compared to Achilles’s who had done everything to save her.
Oh, Achilles! He was the true hero! She longed to thank him properly, and a shy heat crept up her neck at the thought—to have enough time to savor one kiss, explore these new feelings that made her pulse pause in disbelief. He loved her! The wonder of it still left her breathless. Her poor heart was so full of love for her husband that she could hardly contain it.
So where was he? Her eyes drifted to the door, searching. The wind would be easier to catch than her elusive man.
