Sara Larson - Defy

Why did he insist on asking me such questions? He’d never made an effort to win me over before. Was this some sort of new game? To play on the emotions of the guard who just lost her — his — brother?

“I hope that you will find your trust to be well placed in me, sir,” I finally replied, the back of my neck hot.

“That’s not a very firm answer.” He took a step closer to me.

I had to tilt my head back a tiny bit to look up into his face. It made me feel far too much like a girl. “Yes, sir. You can trust me.”

“Do you have many friends, Alex?”

“Friends, sir?”

“Someone to talk to or laugh with. Perhaps someone you can confide all your secrets in.” He lifted one eyebrow. Though he sounded flippant, there was a serious glint in his eyes that made my throat go dry.

“I had my brother, sir.”

“But now he’s gone.”

“Yes,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“So you’re friendless. Alone.”

A strange, panicky feeling overcame me. I didn’t understand what he was doing — what he wanted. “I have the other members of the guard, Your Highness.”

Prince Damian was silent for a long moment. “Of course you do. I apologize for prying into your personal business.”

Our eyes met and held and suddenly I wondered the same thing — did he have any friends? Or was he, too, all alone? I’d been guarding him for a year, and I’d never even thought about it before. My cheeks grew warm with shame.

Damian took a step back, his expression unreadable. “I should let you rest. But first, would you please ring the maid for some clotted cream and berries? I find myself craving something sweet tonight after all the stress of this day.”

“Of course, sir.”

He nodded, then turned on his heel, strode into the inner chamber of his rooms, and shut the door. I stared at it for a long time, my mind racing my heart.

When the maid brought up the requested food, she also brought me a bowl of water, a cloth, and a clean tunic. I set the supplies for myself on the floor next to the cot and picked up the bowl of cream and fruit for the prince. Acai berries, such a deep blue they were almost purple, and sliced papaya and mango filled the bowl. Their juices ran down over the cream, staining it and making my mouth water. When I knocked softly, he called out, “Enter.”

I pushed open the door and entered his room. The fireplace was dark and empty; it was too hot for a fire. Candles flickered from multiple candelabras around the room, making the shadows stretch and sway, chasing the orange light of the flames.

“You may set it on the desk. Thank you, Alex.”

I walked quickly across the room and did as the prince asked. When I turned, he stood by his bed, shirtless, his chest and arms coated with a fine sheen of sweat. His extremely well-muscled chest and arms. His stomach was flat and chiseled. He was as strong as any of the men on his guard, perhaps even more so than most. In the warm light of the candles, Prince Damian was almost painfully handsome. I suddenly felt too hot. Like all the heat in the room had surged into my body, coalescing deep in my belly. Lightning flashed, filling the room with bright white light, making me flinch.

“Was there anything else?”

My eyes widened when I realized I’d been staring at his body. My cheeks flamed, making me grateful for the low light of the candles. “Sir, you’re covered in sweat. Are you taking ill?” I asked, keeping my voice low and gruff. Manly. It was as good a cover as I could come up with. No one looked like that unless they exercised — a lot .

“I’m in perfect health.” He shot me a wicked grin. “As you may have noticed.”

My mouth went dry and my face burned even hotter. But before I could think of any other ways to dig myself into a deeper hole of humiliation, he continued, “You may go, Alex.”

I bowed briefly and strode out of the room, my body on fire with embarrassment — and curiosity. There was definitely more to Prince Damian than I’d realized. But I was beginning to worry that he had realized there was more to me, as well.

I’D BARELY FALLEN into a restless sleep on the cot when I heard someone creeping across the room. I stayed frozen but opened my eyes, my fingers going to the dagger I kept strapped to my thigh, even at night.

The person was small, and clutched in one hand was a rectangle of paper.

I let go of the dagger, leaving it in its sheath, and sat up in bed. The intruder stepped toward me, holding out an envelope. In the darkness, I was pretty sure it was a young boy, maybe nine or ten at most. Silently, I took the letter. As soon as I held it, he turned and dashed toward a tapestry hanging behind Nolen’s desk, his bare feet soundless on the stone floor. He lifted it up, there was a slight creak, and then he was gone, the tapestry swinging back into place.

That explained why the guards outside hadn’t been alerted to his presence. A secret passageway was hidden in this room. One I didn’t know about. I stood up and crossed the floor as silently as the boy. When I lifted the tapestry, there was no sign of a door. The wall was paneled in wood. I slid my hands along the beams, searching for a knot or button, a lever, something to indicate how the boy had come and gone so easily. I couldn’t find anything.

Frustrated and angry, I sat down on the chair behind Nolen’s desk. How was I supposed to protect the prince if I didn’t even know all the ways an attacker could have access to him? Why had I never been told of this before?

I looked down at the letter. There was no writing on the outside, and it wasn’t very thick. What could it possibly contain that warranted being delivered in the dead of night so secretively? I clutched the sealed parchment tightly, wondering if there were any way for me to open it without the prince knowing.

No. I gave him my word. I hadn’t lied when I said I was trustworthy.

Standing up with a sigh, I crossed the room and knocked softly on Prince Damian’s door. There was no response. I knocked again, slightly louder this time. Still nothing. Would I risk his wrath if I entered without permission? He seemed pretty intent on no one else finding out about the letter.

The door opened silently and I slipped into the darkened room. The storm had passed on, leaving the smell of rain and the sticky heat of humidity in its wake.

I hadn’t thought to put on boots before entering. In fact, all I wore was a long white nightshirt over the pants I’d had on the day before. I didn’t dare sleep without pants anymore, and I’d left my breasts bound beneath the shirt. Still, without my usual vest, someone might notice the cloth wrapped around my chest — if he looked closely. I halted, trying to decide what to do.

Then Prince Damian cried out.

My first instinct was to protect him. Yanking my dagger from my thigh, I sprang forward, rushing to his side. The bedclothes were twisted around his body and legs, and his forehead had a sheen of sweat across it, his dark hair in complete disarray. He grimaced and his head jerked to the side, but he was still asleep. He mumbled something, so quietly I couldn’t quite make out what — possibly a name. His voice sounded … pained.

Prince Damian was having a nightmare. A bad one, from the way he looked and how he continued to jerk and thrash in his bed. I held my dagger in one hand, the letter in the other, and stared at him. Should I wake him up? Or put the letter on his table and leave? I had the sudden urge to reach out and brush his hair from his forehead, to let my hand trail down his cheek. To calm his thrashing with my touch.

He was still shirtless, and I wasn’t able to resist drinking in the sight of his body unabashedly now that he couldn’t catch me staring. I’d seen plenty of men shirtless after living in the army and then earning a position on the guard. But this was different for some reason. He was so beautiful, even in the midst of a nightmare. I’d reasoned away my original attraction to him when I joined his guard, told myself that he was arrogant, spoiled, rotten. But what if he wasn’t as bad as I thought — what if it was some sort of strange act?