“Youthink? Shouldn’t you know?”
“I’m new at this queen stuff. The whole ‘off with their heads’ aspect still eludes me.”
“Well, I don’t know about the rest of your enemies, but I’m certainly terrified,” she deadpans. “Now, let’s go. He’s already been waiting nearly an hour while I wandered around looking for you.”
He?
A breath snags in my throat. Beneath its icy cage, my heart starts to thump harder. After so many months of numbness, it’s odd to feel palpable curiosity sparking to life inside me, embers of a fire I thought doused forever.
Who is waiting for me?
And what does he want?
“Whatever,” I say, swallowing hard. “It’s not like I care.”
“Uh huh.”
“Whoever it is, I’m just going to order him to get out.”
“Sure you are.”
I bite my lip to contain another unconvincing comeback. Ignoring her knowing gaze, I stiffen my shoulders as I pivot away and leave the throne room behind. My guard trails after me dutifully, her amusement palpable as she watches me struggling to maintain my charade of indifference. To keep my pace restrained, rather than running full-tilt for my rooms.
Each step is agony. Too slow, too small. The creeping pace chafes my nerve endings like sandpaper.
Is it him?
No.
It can’t be him.
Unless…
No!
I thought I’d never feel anything again. Anything exceptnumb. But this sensation inside my chest — this fluttering, unfamiliar anticipation — is growing too strong to suppress.
Hoping Galizia doesn’t notice, I pick up my pace ever so slightly, rounding corridor corners a little too fast, taking the stairs two at a time up the flight that leads toward my chambers. With each stride down my hallway, the battle drum of my battered heart pounds out a crushing tattoo.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Somewhere in the aching hollow between each beat, hope blooms — insuppressible, inextinguishable.
Be him.
Be him.
Please, oh please…
Let it be him.
Chapter Two
I stepover the threshold of my room, heart in my throat. Surprise, joy, and just the smallest bit of disappointment knot together inside my stomach when I take in the sight of the man standing by my terrace, the broad planes of his back filling out an army green jacket, his long legs encased in faded denim.