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Iris Lee, the lead of the royal bodyguards, who reports to the boss about our activities and itineraries, isnotgoing to like this. The boss is going to hate this. The king is not going to allow this.
Torin’s going to end up getting me fired. Or banished from this country. Or both.
We circle on the mat and he jabs at me halfheartedly.
I roll my eyes. We keep moving. At least we’re not sitting in button-down shirts and ties in his fancy office where I'm reminded that he is not just my boss, but a very powerful man. A man who is obligated to do certain things, not by choice, but by birthright. He has to marry Linnea. And I have to stand by and let it happen.
Being Torin O’Grady's friend is easy. BeingPrinceTorin's friend is turning out to be more difficult than I’d expected.
I jab at his face and he doesn't duck, but he blocks my move.
“She’s never really been given the chance to see that things could be different,” Torin goes on. “If she finds someone to actually fall in love with, I think she would change her mind. And I think Diarmuid would care. I don't think he would want her to be unhappy with me if there’s a possibility for her to be happy and in love.”
I feel my heart suddenly pounding so hard, I need to shake my head to try to clear my ears. “You really think they would both rethink everything if shefell forsomeone else?”
Jesus, why are my palms suddenly sweating?
“Yes,” he says. “I really do. And—I have an idea.”
Hearing him say those four words, I have two simultaneous reactions—excitement and dread.
Torin's ideas are always big and bold. And about half the time, they’re good.
The other half the time, they cause me huge problems.
I shove a hand through my hair. “Fine. I’m listening.”
“We set her up on some dates. We become her matchmakers. We find some guys who would be perfect for her, arrange for her to spend time with them, tell them to romance her, and show her some other really fantastic possibilities.”
I just look at him for a long moment.
When I realize that’s it, that’s the idea, I say, “So…then what?”
He grins. “We give her permission to fall in love.”
“Permission to fall in love?” I repeat.
“That’s all it will take. She’s a rule follower. Bound by duty. Loyal to our grandfathers. But, if she’s given permission to open her mind, to have new experiences, to see what else is out there…I think she’ll realize that she absolutely does not want to be stuck here with me.”
I snort. Torin can definitely be self-deprecating. It’s one of my favorite things about him. But his ego is not small or in any way wounded.
But, then I actually think about his idea.
Dammit. If Linnea fell in love with someone else, someone who wasnotmy best friend and the man I intend to spend my life working for, it would be…much better.
Not only would it be better for her, it would be better for Torin.
Neither of them should have to live in a loveless, passionless marriage.
And God knows it would be better for me.
Fortunately for them, the arranged marriage between them, set up by their grandfathers when they were only toddlers, is not public knowledge. While people have certainly noticed, and commented, that the families are close and that Linnea and Torin would make a fantastic couple, there has been no actual gossip about them being romantically involved.
Yet.
It would take the smallest leak from the palace to make that story blow up and spread like wildfire.
“So what do you think?” Torin asks, rubbing a towel over his face. “It will work, right?”