A Royal World Apart(27)

“And I might run away. Or cause more scandal,” she said, looking for reasons to reinforce his being there.

He laughed, a hollow sound. “Somehow I don’t believe that. But I will stay.”

“Good,” she said.

She could face everything, even the press, if Mak was there. And even if they could never sleep in each other’s arms again, she would rather have him close by than not have him at all.

She looked at the empty space next to her and felt her heart squeeze tight. She wished she had known that last night was the last night. She might have held him closer.

She might not have slept.

She looked at Mak, standing across the room from her, his posture formal, nothing in his face hinting at his emotions, or even if he had them.

If she had known that last night had been the last time, she might even have told him how she felt.

So it was probably good she hadn’t known.

“I’ll go and gather my things,” she said, standing up, tugging the blanket around her body.

She started to walk past him, then stopped, turning to face him. She studied the lines of his face, so familiar, so essential. She pulled the blanket more securely around her body and stood up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. He froze for a moment, the put one hand on her waist, holding her to him as he returned the kiss. As he slid his tongue against hers, taking the kiss deep, intense. Desperate.

Her heart pounded hard, echoing in her head, her entire body shaking as she squeezed her eyes closed. She needed this kiss, this last kiss, to last her forever.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

When they parted they were both breathing hard, Mak’s eyes glittering with emotion now, deep and dark and un-nameable.

She felt a tear slide down her cheek and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. She wouldn’t hide how he affected her. But she wouldn’t crumble either.

“Now I’ll go and get ready,” she said, trying to force a smile.

“I’ll meet you down here in half an hour,” he said, his voice a whisper.

“See you then.”

Mak spent the flight in the seat at the opposite end of the plane from Eva’s seat. He had to gather his control. Had to find a way to put some distance between them.

They were about to stand before King Stephanos, about to rejoin the real world.

He didn’t often question his actions. Since the car accident that had cost Marina her life, at least a real life, he had simply moved on. Tried to make what he had, what they had, work.

He should question the actions he’d taken with Eva. He should denounce them. Regret them. Something.

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

She was the first woman to truly test his control. There had been others who were willing, especially since he’d been able to act on any desires he might have. But nothing about the moment, or the person, had felt right. He’d felt dead. Bored.

With Eva he felt alive. As if she’d breathed into him, made him see things in color. She added an indefinable something to his life, to each moment. And he felt starved for it, for her, always.

Still, he should feel regret. He could offer her nothing, not just because of her likely-impending marriage, but because he had nothing to give. Nothing at all. He was dry. Spent.

He could give endlessly to his job, a job that only made physical demand of him, and he could keep Eva happy in bed endlessly too. But she needed more. She was so beautiful, so untouched, even by the tragedy that had happened in her own life.

She didn’t need someone so damaged. Especially when he knew he could do nothing but take. And he’d been there. He’d been the one to give, and had given until it was all gone. His life blood leached from him, leaving nothing but a shell in place of the man he’d been.

He wouldn’t do that to her. Ever. An arranged marriage with a man who had the possibility of giving her everything she needed was a much better thing for her.

Even if the idea of another man’s hands on her body gave him the impression of hot, dry ash on his tongue.

“What are we going to tell him?” Eva’s voice came from just behind him.

He turned. “Nothing. Your father, I assume? But even if you mean the pope, the answer is still nothing.”

“Not a believer in confession?”

“Not confessing something of this nature.”

“Are you ashamed?”

He stood and braced himself on the back of the chair, a fierce anger erupting in him. At her. At himself. “I am attached to every body part I have. And I don’t fancy losing any. Neither do I fancy spending any time in a Kyonosian jail cell for violating their precious princess.”

“They all think I’ve been violated before anyway. Besides, we both know you could escape from a jail cell in what? Five minutes?”

He shrugged. “Ten maybe.”

“Exactly.”

He wanted to touch her, but he wouldn’t. That path led to madness. To ruin. “That doesn’t mean I’m eager to go in and make any announcements.”

“I know,” she said, her voice much more subdued than he was accustomed to hearing it.

“Tell me your favorite thing about Kyonos,” he said. He wanted to keep her from thinking too much. From feeling sad. Especially when they both knew exactly what likely awaited her back home.

She blinked rapidly. “I like … I like the sea. The heat. The cafés. I like that it isn’t covered in snow.” Her voice thickened. “I like that I can go outside whenever I want without worrying about frostbite. And that I don’t have to sit by a fireplace to get warm.”

“And you have your own room?” he asked, pain lancing his chest.

“Yes. For as long as I have my own room, I’ll treasure it. Until the day I’m forced into marriage. Into sharing it with someone I don’t know or care about. Until that day, there will be things I enjoy about Kyonos. About life. I’ll get back to you after that.”

She turned and walked back to her seat, her posture stiff. And Mak tried not to wonder when he’d started feeling things again.

She’d lied. Big-time. There was nothing comforting about home. Truthfully, there was nothing home about home. It was nothing but a castle built for ancestors long dead, to impress the outside world, and to imprison those who lived in it.

At least some of the people who lived in it.

She tried not to flinch as she walked through the vast open doors that led into the foyer of the castle. High ceilings, built that high for the express purpose of making those who’d just walked across the hallowed threshold feel very, very small.

She was determined not to let it work. That didn’t mean it wasn’t working a little bit, but she was trying to make it so that it didn’t.

Mak was behind her, his presence solid. Comforting. Intoxicating. Everything it shouldn’t be. She couldn’t lean on Mak. She had to draw strength from herself. Even so, she ached for a partner. Not a support, but someone who would stand beside her, an active participant in what she was about to do. Not a passive soldier who simply walked ten paces behind, his emotions cut off. His body present, his heart cold as stone.

It was just before noon and there was staff everywhere, hurrying around them paying her very little attention. The staff weren’t wild about her, not because of any personal dealings but because she caused trouble in the well-ordered world of the palace. Anyone who made King Stephanos unhappy indirectly made them unhappy, after all.

She continued, head down, toward her father’s office, trying to ignore the prickle of heat on the back of her neck, the racing of her heart that told her Mak was keeping pace with her.

She stopped at the door to the king’s office. She only thought of him as The King when she knew he was going to issue an edict she didn’t like. And something inside her told her that he was about to.

“Shall I go with you?” It was the first time Mak had spoken since the plane landed.

“No,” she said. “I’ll handle it. After all, it isn’t as though we’ve been caught out.” She turned the door handle and stepped into the room. “Father, I’m home.”

Stephanos didn’t look up from the papers in front of him. “Good. We have to act quickly.”

“We do?”

“Yes.” He looked up then, pulling his glasses off. “The press is tearing you apart. You’re quickly becoming a running joke. Some are quite clever though none bear repeating in polite company.”

Eva swallowed and straightened her shoulders. “As long as it’s done cleverly. I’d hate to think the jokes were stupid as well as vulgar.”

“Be that as it may, there may be a chance to save you yet.”

She looked left, then right. “Is there a priest around?”

Her father treated her to an expression that was decidedly lacking in amusement. “There will be soon enough. Bastian Van Saant has agreed to go forward with the marriage and I have accepted his offer for your hand.”

Eva’s ears crackled, then fuzzed out, as though she was getting bad reception on a radio station. Her father’s lips were still moving, but she could only make out a few words, sprinkled throughout waves of oppressive silence.

“Four weeks.”

That she heard, loud and clear. Her six-month window had been drastically reduced.

The room pitched violently to the side. Except nothing was out of order, everything on her father’s desk was still laid out precisely, and her feet were still solidly planted on the whitewashed stone floor. Everything was as it should be. Everything around her. Everything in her screamed like a wounded animal.