A Royal World Apart

Makhail cursed the fact that he felt bad for her. That he felt anything at all. But the look on Eva’s face before she’d stormed out of the gardens the day before, and her escape attempt that same night, had done something to him. Had appealed to the small bit of humanity he had left inside of him. One he had thought long snuffed out.

She’d spent the rest of the day yesterday in her room. Her father had considered it a victory. It kept her well out of the spotlight, after all.

Mak had not seen it the same way. He wasn’t in the business of dealing with people who didn’t want to his services. And as much as he hated the parallel, he was essentially a babysitter with a gun.

And Eva was unhappy. Desperately so.

I want to live.

That word, live, had hit him hard in the chest. There was something about her in that moment that reminded him of Marina. When she’d been vibrant, whole, with her entire life stretching before her.

I don’t need anything but you, Mak. Everything else can wait.

Except there had been no future for her, no later time to experience the things she’d longed for. In one moment everything had changed. All of the somedays they’d planned had been lost. And he had thought, so many times, that death would have been sweeter than what Marina had been left with.

There had been many times he’d thought of what he would do differently. If he could turn time back eleven years and redo everything.

He’d been doing nothing but thinking of that since Eva had shut herself in her room.

He stalked down the corridor and into the dining room, where Eva was alone, eating breakfast at the same table she’d eaten at yesterday. A table that could comfortably seat thirty, but seemed only ever to seat her.

“Morning,” she said tightly, not looking up.

“Good morning, Eva.”

“We did this yesterday,” she said. “It didn’t go well.”

“Not really.” He looked at Eva, really looked at her. He could change it for her. He could make sure she felt some sense of freedom. He didn’t want to care about her, about her situation. It was a job, only a job. And yet, now that he’d made the connection between Eva and Marina in his mind, it couldn’t be shaken.

When he thought of Marina in the same position, asking for a chance to taste life … he wished she had tasted life.

She hadn’t. And then the opportunity was stolen.

So much of that was his own fault.

He wouldn’t do the same to Eva.

And the attraction you feel has nothing to do with this? He banished the thought. The attraction, such as it was, could mean nothing.

“What do you want, Eva?” he asked, his voice rough, even to his own ears.

She looked at him, her expression wary. “What … what do you mean?”

“I thought about it last night. About what you said.”

“Before or after I had my emotional meltdown?”

“Just before,” he said. “I cannot change what it is your father expects of you. That’s a matter between you and the king. It concerns your country. But we have these months, and I don’t have to keep you in the palace. As long as you’re willing to cooperate.”

“Meaning?” she asked, her tone wary.

“What would it take to make you happy?” he said, his tone hard.

“In this … in this scenario, where you’re asking me … I still have to marry the man my father chooses for me?”

“I told you, that’s a matter between you, one that has nothing to do with me. But there are things I can arranged if you like. Outings. Shopping. Dinner.”

“I … my father says it’s too hard to arrange all of the security required to—”

“Your security is my concern. It might have been too hard for the Kyonosian Guard, but it’s certainly not too difficult for me.”

“You’re not kidding?” she asked, her expression guarded.

“No.”

“I want … I want to choose my own clothes.”

“You don’t pick out your club wear?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I … actually no, it’s all been provided by the palace stylist. And if you saw what other women wore to those sorts of places, you’d believe me.”

“I do,” he said. He’d secured the perimeter of more than one of those types of establishments, though he’d never been in one as a guest. It wasn’t his scene. Not in the least. “What else?”

“And I want to go out and order my own dinner.” She spoke slowly, her words gradually picking up tempo as she went along. “And I want to go to the beach. And … and I want … I don’t even know everything I want because for so long all of my decisions have been made for me.”

She stood, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. “I … Please don’t be lying to me.”

“I’m not.” Something in his stomach twisted. Hard. “I’m not changing what happens in six months. Just what we do now. And you have to stay with me. At all times. If I lose sight of you for a moment, I will personally lock you in your room for the duration.”

Eva swallowed. He was offering her a life line—more than anyone else. Yes, it was just a vapor of what she really wanted. The surface, shallow experiences when there was a deep well of things she craved. But it was something.

Offering her an olive branch, even if he was keeping his distance. It was more than anyone else had done. Her other guards had been silent annoyances, making sure she felt watched, never speaking to her. Never interacting with her.

Mak was the last person on earth she’d expected to break that barrier. But he seemed to understand.

“What’s changed?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” He stood and rested his hands palms on the tabletop.

“Something changed between last night and this morning. Last night you told me I was nothing more than a spoiled brat, and I think you were ready to lock me up then.”

“It’s true.” He walked along the opposite side of the table, his fingers resting lightly on the polished wood surface as he did. “It is not my job to approve or disapprove of the decisions your father has made. I’m here to protect you. That’s the beginning and end of it. As it is with all of my jobs.” He rounded the edge of the table and stood across from her, without the protection of antique furniture between them. “You remind me of someone.”

She took a step toward him, an involuntary action. She simply felt drawn to him. Like seeing brilliant art that you had to get closer to. “I do?”

“Yes. She … If I could give her a day at the beach, I would. But I can’t. So I will give it to you.”

He raised his head, the bleakness in his eyes stunning her, stopping her from moving closer. She wanted to ask, but she didn’t. She knew he wouldn’t tell her. There was something in his voice, a depth and intensity. There was emotion. It had been absent every other time he’d spoken. But not now. This was something real. Something that stretched to a place she couldn’t grasp.