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Guinevere was not in the same dusty lacy dress she’d worn this morning, but a light blue one, with lots of frothy tiered skirts that made her look as if she had a fountain falling down on either side of her. She had her hair tied back, curls cascading down her back in a more orderly fashion than it had been this morning, and the dust on her cheekbone had gone.
She still looked delicate, like a fairy, if a much more tidy one than she had the previous day, and despite the control he had himself under he found his gaze coming to rest on the neckline of her dress, which was low and scooped, providing a perfect showcase for the swell of her breasts.
She will be soft. How long has it been since you’ve had any softness?
Too long. His life had been nothing but hard, relentless action, always moving forward, always onwards to the next plan, the next strategy. There had been no time for rest, for anything gentle or light or soft.
There was still no time for it.
And he shouldnotbe thinking about this as constantly as he was.
Forcing his gaze away from the neckline of her dress, Tiberius stepped back from the doorway. ‘You’re late,’ he said tersely.
She blinked. ‘By five minutes.’
‘Five minutes is time enough for someone to lose their life.’
‘Really? I had no idea this meeting was a matter of life and death.’
Acid laced her words as she stepped into the room. So. It seemed the little mouse was definitely a thing of the past.
He shouldn’t respond. She knew nothing about what he’d gone through to get here and it wasn’t worth arguing about. That didn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth, however.
‘You have no idea about many things, Guinevere Accorsi, and that is why you are here—so I can discuss them with you.’
Hot blue flames leapt in her eyes, turning her once more into the fiery, spirited woman who’d stood up to him in the library that morning. The polar opposite to the quiet, terrified girl who’d kept staring at her hands, too afraid to look at him.
Maybe she isn’t as fragile as you thought.
He did not need that thought in his head. No, he most certainly did not. Because now he was intrigued by the contrast, and by how, for all her delicacy and fragility, there appeared to be a fire burning in her. A fire he found fascinating.
She put her chin in the air and moved past him, going over to the chair in front of his desk and sitting herself down in it like the little Queen she was. ‘Well, then, Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘Here I am.’
Tiberius shut the door and walked over to the fireplace, where he’d been pacing not moments before. He stopped, folding his arms as he looked at her.
She had her hands once again clasped in her lap, but for a change she wasn’t looking at them. She was looking at him, anger still leaping and flickering in her deep blue eyes.
This evening she was a lioness, perhaps. A lioness in a pretty blue dress…
‘First,’ he began, starting with his most pressing concern, ‘I cannot have you disappearing again. The entirety of the palace was in an uproar this morning, because you’d decided to vanish without warning.’
‘I told you why I did,’ she said hotly. ‘I told you that I—’
‘Yes, yes,’ he interrupted, impatient. ‘However, you must understand that I’ve only recently taken power, and there is still unrest in this country. I married you to end division and create stability, and you vanishing without a word significantly undermines that.’
She glowered at him, her pretty mouth tight.
‘You do understand that, don’t you?’ he demanded insistently. ‘Or does the wellbeing of our country not matter to you?’
All at once her hands came out of her lap and she gripped the arms of her chair, shoving herself out of it in a furious movement. ‘Of course it matters to me!’ Her voice was so fierce it shook slightly. ‘But I didn’t know what was happening. I wasn’t ever allowed to leave the palace, and all my father said about the state of Kasimir was that everyone loved him as King.’
Her vehemence took him by surprise, and for a moment he only stared at her. What did she mean, she hadn’t been allowed to leave the palace? And did she really not know what Renzo had done to Kasimir? How could she not?
Guinevere stood in front of her chair, fingers clenched into fists at her sides, her cheeks pink, fury blazing in her eyes.
He’d hit a nerve, that was clear, and in that moment a cold awareness swept over him. That fury wasn’t fake or manufactured. It was the truth.
Her father reallyhadnever let her out of the palace. And perhaps she reallyhadn’tknown what was happening in Kasimir either. But how could that be?