Zoe Thanatos(34)
Her lips curled into an amused smile that brightened her face. She was always the most beautiful when she smiled, and when she did he often forgot she was the Queen and instead saw her as being as normal and regular as everyone else.
“I’m pleased to see your sister was able to locate you and bring you home in one piece. She has quite a talent, Evadine. Of all the places to look she knew exactly the right one.”
“I was just as surprised as you, Your Highness,” he replied.
“Did you have a nice time?” she asked sweetly.
“It was fine. I’m happy to be home now.” It was faster to think of the lie than to consider a truthful statement.
“And yet you stayed away for so long.” There was slight amusement in her words and her lips, but her eyes were colder, appraising him closely.
“Forgive me. I lost track of time.” He took her right hand and held it to his mouth, gently kissing above her knuckles.
“I missed you,” she whispered quietly, her eyes dropping to where his lips met her outstretched hand. It was a side of her that was easier, less complicated. A part of him believed their affair would be more convenient if she was always that way. The moments were rare and in some ways they alarmed him. She was his Queen, a married woman with whom he had shared a bed on more than one occasion, and he never forgot his place.
He always suspected that to her the affair was a product of power and desire, never emotion. She had charmed and seduced him the first time and each time thereafter was always at her whim. He participated but never instigated, never once daring to openly address her as anything other than his sovereign. Afterwards, he always felt angry with himself for giving in, for wanting her at all. Although he appreciated that she never explicitly treated him like a prisoner, he never managed to forget that he technically was. The formality of his and Eva’s imprisonment may have ended with the previous Queen and King, but they were never told to leave or stay. They simply remained in the only place they had to call home.
“I have some matters to attend to,” she stated. She released her hand from his and put it back at her side, regaining the cool composure she was known for. “Perhaps we can pick up where we left off?” she asked, though he suspected she was being rhetorical.
Not knowing what to say he simply nodded. To his surprise she kissed him, capturing his bottom lip between hers and tugging gently. She pulled away and smiled, and he again saw a flicker of Zoe in her face. A knot formed in his stomach.
“See you later,” she promised as she walked to the door and left, leaving him alone in her bedroom.
None of the Queen’s people looked at him as he emerged from her private room, or as left the Straton’s residence. Not that his or his sister’s presence in the Straton residence would have been considered scandalous. The Throne Room was the centralized meeting room of the royal family, where matters of state and other official business were announced to the public. Only the two private residences branched off adjacently from the great room: the Queen and King’s, and the one he shared with Eva.
Evan retreated to his own residence. The Queen had been there, too, on my occasions, often coming to him when the King was away or otherwise engaged. He could still feel the impression of her lips on his, his bottom lip still warm from her embrace. He was grateful she had other matters to attend to, knowing full well their reunion would have likely progressed to the bed.
Seeing Zoe’s face in the Queen’s was unexpected, and the uncanny similarity between them was a disturbing reminder of the woman he left behind. He looked to his bed and suddenly felt guilty for having shared it with Kyra, even though it was prior to meeting Zoe. Still, it was a reminder he didn’t want.
He returned to the empty common room. A total of four rooms branched off from the main common area, two occupied by Evan and Eva and the other two meant for family or honored guests. They had each remained empty for as long as he could remember. He opened the door closest to him and found that it was empty and lacking any customization. The lights brightened in his presence, casting a sterile glow on the glass panels that lined the walls from floor to ceiling. To his right he found the familiar control panel that calibrated individual settings in the room. He touched his palm to the corner and recalled the rooftop pool at the Canary Hotel: a sea of terra-cotta roofs and spiky palm tree leaves set against a crystal blue sky; the smell of the nearby ocean thick with salt; a trellis covered in bougainvillea propped against a thick plastered wall; Spanish tile spaced sporadically along the soft concrete ground; a seagull cawing distantly.