Page 65 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy (Spies and Royals #4)
Chapter Thirty-Two
— Boxing Day—
A chilles studied Bris’s sleeping face as she burrowed deeper into his arms, letting out a contented sigh that melted his heart like honey.
Their makeshift bed consisted of soft woolen blankets spread around the modest tent, her thick black hair creating dark rivers across the cream-colored fabric in the predawn light.
How could he sleep when his heart felt ready to burst from his chest?
Everything he’d imagined a marriage should be was here in his arms. He hadn’t known what love truly meant until it slapped him across the face, and what a beautiful slap that had been! Bris had the fiery spirit to deliver that blow, and he’d never felt more alive.
His hands traced the silk of her bare arms, drawing her closer until he could feel every curve molded against him, her warmth seeping into his very bones. That’s when he noticed—the necklace he’d given her was missing.
Where had it gone?
She stirred with a soft murmur, and he couldn’t resist capturing her lips with his own, savoring their sweetness as she responded with sleepy passion, kiss for kiss, until they were both laughing and drowning in each other’s eyes.
His fingers traced the delicate column of her throat. “Where did that necklace go?”
Her lashes lowered. “I threw it away.”
“What?” He straightened, surprise jolting through him, followed by a bark of laughter. “Well, that’s a fine thing to do with the token of our love.”
“I didn’t know you had it until it was too late.”
The stone-cold hand of warning clutched his heart, forcing him to pay attention to the tremor in her voice. “Didn’t know what?” he asked carefully.
Worry creased her beautiful features as her shoulders tensed beneath his hands.
“When my father threatened to annul our marriage, he said he wouldn’t do it if I gave you the necklace and—and I think it tracks us.
I thought it wasn’t a big deal because everyone always knows where we are anyway, and then you’d torn it off before we’d left, and I thought… ”
He groaned. He didn’t have it in him to be angry at her—well, maybe a little, but any trace of it was gone the instant he spied the anguish glistening in her luminous eyes.
Immediately, he kissed the creases next to her eyebrow, then erased the worry from her lips, his mouth moving over hers before coming up for enough air to reassure her.
“I don’t think your father is the real problem anyway.
It’s the Myrdons we need to worry about. ”
“I don’t know about anything anymore,” she said breathlessly.
He knew the feeling. What was a lie? What was truth. He ran his hand along her arm. “Do you have any more secrets you need to get off your chest?”
“I stole your rugby shirt last week. Even if I couldn’t be with you, I wanted to feel like you were near.”
A grin slowly took over his mouth. He couldn’t help it as he pulled her closer and kissed her temple softly.
“I’m sorry about the necklace.” She ducked her head. “There wasn’t time to tell you—because you were putting it around my neck and we were married… again… and—and…”
And he was showing her exactly how much he loved her on the honeymoon he’d been dreaming about since the first time they’d exchanged vows.
“Are you mad that I didn’t…?” she began to ask but couldn’t finish. Her cheeks flushed red.
“No… no…” He shook his head, pressing his forehead against hers.
“We’re just having our first fight as an officially married couple.
” The problem was that he wanted to make up before they’d even properly started just to get back to the business of loving her.
Unfortunately, they’d have to move this fragile and precious moment they shared to a different romantic setting altogether.
“We need to get out of here… take that necklace with us and let Chises Mnon find us elsewhere.”
Her lips pressed together in a tight line, and his heart took another nosedive. “What happened to the necklace?”
“I threw it in the river.”
Then they’d be fishing that chained cross out of the rocky streambed…
or seeking out Chises Mnon themselves before he came looking for his daughter and stumbled upon O Skia instead.
Achilles was formulating a plan when chaos erupted outside their tent—shouting voices, running footsteps, the unmistakable sounds of armed men searching.
“Where’s the Princess?” a harsh voice demanded.
And they were too late!
He cursed under his breath and pulled Bris upright beside him, hastily throwing on his shirt while she reached for that flowing wedding dress he’d been more than happy to peel off her the night before.
She struggled with the intricate back fastenings, and he moved behind her, his fingers fumbling with the tiny pearl buttons while being driven to distraction by the warm silk of her skin beneath his hands.
He placed a reverent kiss against her shoulder, reminding himself not to let his wife distract him when they had bloodshed to prevent, decades of misunderstandings to unravel, and a friendship between former best friends to somehow heal—though that last part seemed impossible.
The tent flap ripped open with violent force.
Achilles spun around, rushing to shield his wife. “Do you mind? We’ve just been married!”
Sorta.
His voice died in his throat when he saw Peder stumbling through the entrance.
His loyal friend and newly appointed chancellor looked like he’d been through the depths of Hades and back—his usually pristine uniform was torn and filthy.
Dirt and what looked suspiciously like blood was smeared across his pale cheek.
“The Myrdons are coming for you,” Peder gasped, clutching his side. “Chises Mnon sent me to head them off, to warn you. I tracked you to this place with that necklace.”
“What happened?” Achilles demanded, noting how his friend swayed on his feet. “Are you okay?”
“You don’t have much time!” Peder shouted desperately. “Listen to me! Your sister has been taken.”
Bris cried out in horror while every muscle in Achilles’s body coiled like a spring, ready for violence. “Where? Where is she?”
“I don’t know! Dominique—he’s a plant! He was sent to take her hostage, and there’s no sign of where they went.
” Achilles knew he hated that man! But he’d thought that he was Chises Mnon’s spy.
The double-crosser got double-crossed! “Dominique took her hostage during the chaos at the palace.” Peder’s face twisted with pain and self-reproach.
“I missed it! So much was happening! After we regained control and accounted for everyone, we discovered Gena was missing. The Myrdons left a message for you—work with them or your sister dies! They said they want Aggie out! Phoenix is behind it all, and…” his voice cracked with betrayal, “Polly was working with him the entire time!”
Bris gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Peder’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes downcast—they’d both suspected it. “What about the Earl?” Achilles growled. “Is he the one behind the Myrdons?”
Peder looked blank. “The Earl of Alexopoulos?”
“Yes.”
The low sound of Black Hawks echoed closer.
“Our sources said nothing about him,” Peder said.
Shouting erupted outside. The guerrillas had spied the oncoming aircraft.
Heavy stomping boots raced past the tent.
Peder pushed at Achilles, his hands turning weaker.
“Go!” He collapsed against the tent pole, and that’s when Achilles saw the dark stain spreading across his friend’s side.
“You’re hurt!”
“And you will be too if you don’t leave!” Peder’s voice grew faint as he leaned against the bed. “If you have any love for me, you’ll get out of here. I’ll pretend to be you for as long as I can. Wish I had your friend Deedeelicious… she almost made switching places fun again.”
Achilles stared at his dearest friend, remembering all the times they’d fooled everyone as kids, two boys so alike in build and coloring that even their own mothers were tricked. But this wasn’t a childhood prank—this was a death sentence. “Peder, I can’t let you—”
The thunderous roar of rotor blades cut through the morning air, growing louder by the second.
Achilles’s eyes met Bris’s—the Myrdons wanted her dead.
That’s what this had always been about. The olive canopy might hide them from aerial surveillance for now, but that advantage wouldn’t last for long.
His heart shattered as he remembered his wedding vows from mere hours ago: “I’m done fighting… unless it is to fight for you. I adore you…” Peder was a soldier defending their people, and keeping Bris alive meant keeping their people’s hope alive.
“Do what you have to do,” Achilles told him hoarsely, his hand tightening protectively over Bris. “Just survive this, or I’ll never forgive you.”
Peder nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his pale lips.
Without another word, Achilles ducked out of the tent, covering Bris’s body with his own as they ran through the olive grove.
Their feet pounded over the soft Aeaean earth scattered with fallen olives, shadows offering both threat and sanctuary as they fled.
Behind them, the peaceful morning erupted into gunfire.
Church bells began tolling in the distance—whether in warning or celebration, he couldn’t tell.
They headed for the sound, toward the ancient bell tower rising above the tree line, its stones catching the first golden rays of sunrise over the sparkling sea.
He tried to remember every detail of the mad man’s tour of these grounds, desperately hoping the old church where his parents had married might offer sanctuary for his wife.
The bells grew louder, their bronze voices calling across the island like prayers carried on the wind, but who would answer that call?
Whatever happened next, he would not let the Myrdons take Bris too.