Page 64 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)

Clysta? Her chin lifted sharply as she strained to listen. The answering voice sounded matter-of-fact, certain. “Clysta would rather he rot there than see the light of day. He went after her kid. The Myrdons won’t lift a finger to get him. We’re stuck with that maniac.”

Their conversation faded as they moved away, leaving her ears ringing. They were in communications with Achilles’s mother?

The opening of the tent flew open, and O Skia filled the doorway—the more brutal, hulking version of Achilles, his dangerous gaze making her shrink back. Her fingers tightened on the hairpin. “Are you with the Myrdons or are you not?” she accused.

“Good evening to you too. My son found himself a fierce tigerlily, has he?” He stepped inside, his presence suffocating in the small space. “You get right to the heart of the matter.”

Maybe not the brightest thing to come out swinging, but she didn’t trust the hate simmering in his eyes. “Clysta makes deals with you?”

“So much passion.” He purposely ignored the question, his features tightening like a contained storm. “I am surprised my son let you from his sight. He seems rather fond of you. Did your father order you to make him fall in love with you?”

It seemed they both had a reason to distrust the other. And she wasn’t a dishrag he could push around. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

He cracked a humorless smile. “So, he did.”

Her hand shook on the hairpin. “You didn’t answer my question.

You have a prisoner here…” Her father’s words washed up into her mind to collide with the Earl’s accusations.

“Aggie Mnon! You’re the ones holding him prisoner.

” That would explain her father’s inability to keep tabs on him—he’d said Aggie had been taken, not that he’d been the one to do it.

O Skia smiled dryly. “What do you want from my son?”

“What do you want with him? To start a war?”

“To end it. Now it’s your turn.”

How could she explain to this uncaring block of granite that she loved his son when he didn’t know what that was? She copied his treatment and didn’t answer.

He made a sound of frustration. “Let’s make a deal. You don’t have to get hurt in all this. I can give you back to your father. Tonight.”

She wasn’t leaving Achilles. “No!”

His body stiffened in the same fury she’d seen in his son. “No?”

“Only if you let me take my husband with me.”

“Like the Wives of Weinsberg,” he mused. “What will you do? Carry Achilles away on your back? Are you that strong?”

She didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t pretend to understand you.”

“I don’t imagine you could.”

Bright chatter announced the women’s return.

She straightened, forcing a serene expression across her features like she’d done with her own father countless times as gentle hands took over her hair.

Another woman carried a delicate silver chain bearing a tiny olive branch pendant.

“From island silver,” she said proudly, fastening it to the front of Bris’s dress.

Her fingers touched the sweet gesture with a shaking hand, her eyes moving up to find Achilles’s father, but he was gone.

Stupid shadow!

Taking her hand, the sassy woman from before led her from the tent along a pathway lit by flickering torches and a curtain of white ribbons.

The ends caught at her hair as she moved through the waterfall of silk.

On the other side, the sea stretched out in a black, gentle warmth, the Christmas boats twinkling like fallen stars across the harbor and then finally…

Achilles. He waited for her beneath an archway of fairy lights and twisted olive branches.

If only he knew the confrontation she’d just endured with his father. His heavy lashes lifted to show eyes blazing with the passion of his soul. She’d never tire of seeing his heart laid bare—the darkness outside the flaming torches couldn’t shroud it, and he didn’t try to hide it.

His hand reached for hers, hands that would hold off armies for her.

He’d come to claim her in holy matrimony again, and this time she was certain of his love.

Strange. These rebels, in their clumsy way, were quickly erasing the memories of their forced ceremony and creating something genuine… hopeful.

Eleni stepped forward, unsteady on his feet but grinning broadly. “Ah, look at these two! Can’t keep their eyes off each other, can you? This is no marriage of convenience—this is love that burns like island fire!” His teasing drew chuckles from the gathered crowd of ruffians.

“Wait a minute, Father.”

O Skia emerged from the shadows, his expression hard as he looked from his son to Bris.

The anger from their earlier encounter seemed to crystallize into something sharper, more dangerous.

His penetrating gaze seemed to see straight through to her soul—he’d have his revenge now.

She was sure of it. He’d stop this marriage as the con he thought it was.

“I will officiate.”

She started in surprise. Achilles let out a sharp intake of breath, his whole body going rigid with suspicion, even Bris was at a loss for words as the old general clasped their hands in his powerful grip. O Skia fixed his son with an intense glare. “Do you love this woman, young wolf?”

Achilles met the challenge in his father’s eyes without flinching.

“Yes, and you can’t stop what she means to me.

I will die for her.” The declaration sounded like both promise and threat as father and son exchanged narrowed looks that could start wars…

until a broad, pleased grin transformed O Skia’s battle-hardened features.

“That is the only answer I will accept for this to go on.”

Bris felt like slapping them both. “Excuse me? Is this a game to you? Are we doing this or do you plan to tease us all night?”

A smile stole over Peleus’s lips before he could conceal it. “You have your mother’s fire in you.”

She softened immediately, even though she’d tried not to; it felt like a betrayal to give him an inch, and yet…

she was in desperate need to hear more about her forgotten mother.

Her eyes watered before she could stop it.

What was she doing? She wouldn’t cry in front of him—they were his prisoners, and she wasn’t some victim falling for Stockholm syndrome!

She held her breath, biting down on her lips before they started trembling or something equally embarrassing.

O Skia’s gaze changed on her, almost gentling.

“You have her eyes too…”

She turned quickly away, but she knew it wasn’t fast enough.

The tears glistening against her lashes clouded the concerned looks Achilles directed at her.

He brought her in closer, shielding her from the crowd with his arms. She buried her head in his chest, feeling his heart hammering against her ears.

Why did she feel so weepy the closer she felt to him?

Love had never meant protection before.

“Perhaps that is why this young wolf has turned into such a helpless lamb for such a spitfire,” O Skia said softly.

Laughter from the crowd followed like gentle rain.

Thank you? Amazingly, she found herself chuckling with the dangerous guerrillas.

Island humor was contagious. Achilles’s fingers pressed hers, and she turned to him, noticing how the moonlight played with his tender expression.

How many centuries of love and loss had these ancient olive trees witnessed?

And what would her love story with Achilles bring?

“My young son; my young daughter to be,” O Skia said.

There was sudden reverence behind those words that she’d never heard from her own father.

“Marriage is not a treaty between kingdoms or a merging of bloodlines. It is the commitment between two devoted souls who promise that no matter the storm, they will weather it together.”

He was making this very personal, wasn’t he?

No wonder O Skia had won his people’s devotion.

He was tearing open her heart and showing it to these people, and somehow, she was okay with it…

. No, blissfully happy! Achilles’s fingers trailed to her face, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. His sparkled with bare emotion.

Thank you, drunken giant! This was a very good idea. The bear was downing another amphora to the side, his bruised jaw resting on his fist as he watched on with a surprisingly sentimental look.

“You have both known the weight of crowns, the weight of despair and hardship. But the love you possess is the only thing no tyrant can command, no oligarch can buy, no enemy can destroy. It must be freely given, fiercely protected, and daily chosen.”

Was that what this was? Bris had never known a love like this, and somehow, she’d recognized it when it came for her. The strange thing was that she could never have accepted it from anyone, but this man who was now her husband.

“Achilles, my son, you are no longer the lost child I could not protect. You are the man that I’d hoped you’d become.

” She felt his fingers tighten over hers.

Achilles’s seemed to almost stop breathing as the validation that he’d craved for his entire lifetime poured over him.

The moment felt almost surreal. How must it be to hear such pride in his father’s voice, from a man he’d thought was dead?

“Guard her heart as you would guard your own life.”

Achilles pulled her in closer at the charge. He didn’t need this speech from his father, judging by how he held her like she was more precious than life, the way he always did! His gaze strayed to her lips.

Yes, she was looking forward to that part too—the official seal of their love.

“Briseis Mnon Tyndarian,” O Skia continued, “you are no pawn, no political prize, no consolation. You have in you the heart of a queen. Trust this man with your dreams, your fears, and your heart—he has proven himself worthy.”

Man! These tears just weren’t going to stop, were they? She let out a breath of pure joy.

“Together, you will be stronger than any force that stands against you. Your love will be the foundation upon which you rebuild not just your own lives, but the lives of all who depend on you. Now speak your vows, not as strangers forced to align, but as partners choosing each other with open eyes and full hearts.”

Their vows? Bris hadn’t expected this part. Achilles touched the flowers woven into her hair. “Bris…” His voice caressed her name like a prayer, and then he just stared at her. Would he end his speech there? He didn’t have to say more, his eyes said it all.

His father nudged him, almost playfully.

Achilles seemed to shake himself from his trance.

“You’re a fire—my soul’s fire. The spark that lights up the room.

I don’t know why I ever fought how I felt about you, but I lost…

and I won, and I’m done fighting… unless it is to fight for you.

I adore you—our tickle fights, the softness of your lips, the fire that comes from those lips.

” She felt herself flushing to the roots of her hair.

“I like the way you stomp your foot when I step out of line… you’re my Prissy, and I’ll always be your Killiefish. ”

She giggled, scarcely believing that he’d said that in front of his father, and how could she follow something so sincere?

She closed her eyes and felt for the words to describe the mess he’d made of her heart.

“Achilles… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you how crazy I was about you.

I didn’t really trust…” Love? Could she say that?

“Well, I was afraid of chasing you away, but… I should’ve known that you’d never do that.

” Was she really doing this? Giving her vows of her own free will?

The spectators melted away until there was only him.

“You saw through me to the real me and somehow you stayed. I can’t believe that you did, because you were the only one who ever saw me really.

I promise I’ll do that for you too! And I’m not going to be so mean—I’ll protect your heart and laugh at your terrible jokes.

” Now he was the one laughing. “Anyway, I don’t care how stupid that sounds—you are my choice. You always were!”

Achilles grinned at her—that grin that zinged from her toes and out of her ears with the speed of lightning. Breaking their gaze, he withdrew the silver cross necklace from his pocket. Its surface caught the moonlight that filtered through the olive canopy. Her heart lurched at the sight—

“Our love is stronger than all the hate of our enemies combined.” His voice was thick with emotion. “They will never divide us.”

With difficulty, she allowed him to slide the symbol of her father’s control, now transformed into something sacred, around her neck, his fingers brushing the tender spot where her pulse ached while he fumbled for the clasp.

The touch sent ripples of hope through her, somehow washing away her troubles with the sweet promise blazing in his passionate eyes.

“Kiss her already.”

He shot a glare at his father, his laughter mixing with wariness and genuine gratitude. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

The crowd erupted in joyful cheers as he claimed her lips with reverent passion, his mouth moving against hers in a kiss that was gentle and fierce all at once, full of promises and desperate hope.

Her emotions crashed over her like the waves on the island’s shore—love, fear, faith, and determination all warring in her chest.

Whatever came next, they would face it together… as soon as she destroyed this necklace.