Her heart slammed into her breastbone. “No.”
He inclined his head. “Good night.”
She just stood and watched him walk away. And tried not to wonder why she wished he would come back.
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.