“I’ve been over the schematics for the palace in detail, and of course I’ve walked the perimeter, both of the grounds and of the palace itself.”
“This was just to keep me busy.”
“The bodyguard equivalent to a nanny’s cartoon,” he said, his tone as stoic as his face.
She shot him her deadliest glare. “And now you’re being an ass on purpose.”
A small smile curved his mouth. “I have to make my own fun.”
She studied him for a moment, the hard lines of his face. Hardness not even the slight show of humor softened. “You don’t look like you care one way or the other about fun.”
He looked at her, his gray eyes intense. “You’re right. I don’t.”
Being on the end of that look, of those eyes, made her feel hot all over. “So … so you can’t really understand my problem.”
“Your problem?”
She swallowed. “Yes. The fact that I want a life. You can’t understand it because you have no desire to have one of your own.”
He paused for a long moment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. It doesn’t mean I don’t understand it.”
More puzzles. He was a complex man. Hard on the surface, letting things glance off without even feeling them. He had erected a barrier between himself and the world, that much was obvious. He was able to talk to her, joke even and yet, it felt as though he was barely giving any of himself in the process. Makhail, who he really was, was hidden behind that thick stone barrier he’d erected. She had a feeling if she could ever get a look behind it, she would find a darkness that would consume her.
Because she could feel it. Could see it sometimes, in his eyes. As frightening as his surface image was, all of that hard muscle displayed to its best advantage by military-grade posture, it was the man beneath that scared her most.
And intrigued her. Made her breath grow short and her stomach get tight. Which was actually scarier than Mak himself.
“Then, if you can imagine it, why can’t you try and understand instead of simply assuming I’m a spoiled brat?”
“Because it’s not my job to do anything that goes beyond your protection.”
“But … you can protect me without holding me prisoner. You can …”
“I don’t work for you, Eva. That means it’s very likely your suggestions are wasted.”
Her stomach tightened. “You’re right. I don’t know why I bothered. You aren’t any different from anyone else. From my father.”
She turned and he caught her arm, his touch sending a blaze of heat through her, her skin on fire where his fingers met her flesh. “And that means?”
She sucked in a sharp breath, determined to keep her composure. Determined to stay strong. “You only care about yourself, and you can use me to further your own end. For my father, it’s about Kyonos. For you, it’s about the job. I’m a person, Mak. And I am sick to death of people forgetting that. Who has to go around reminding people that they aren’t a thing?” Her voice broke and she was horrified by the weakness. She didn’t show weakness. It accomplished nothing. It earned her even less respect than she already got. She cleared her throat. “That’s why your guilt trips don’t work. That’s why I can’t feel bad for wanting more.”
She jerked her arm out of his grasp and walked away as quickly as she could, willing the tears that were forming in her eyes not to fall. She didn’t cry. Ever. She wouldn’t start now.
It was late when Eva decided to try and make her escape. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t care. But there was no way she was allowing Mak to think that he had all the power here, not even close.
She was a princess, and that ought to mean something. Shouldn’t she have some sort of power? Some sort of say in any part of her life?
She tightened the belt on her black trench coat and opened the door to her chambers, her heart pounding. She didn’t usually sneak out of the palace. Usually, she conned her guard into taking her somewhere and sneaked off from there. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could, her high heels dangling from her fingertips as she walked down the hall. The marble floor was cold on her feet, but it was preferable to announcing her presence with the click of her heels.