Maisey Yates - A Royal World Apart

“Bastard.”

He released his hold on her. “It’s entirely possible. Likely, in fact.”

“I didn’t mean in the literal sense,” she said, brushing her hand over her arm, where his hand had burned her through the fabric of her jacket. “Of having unmarried parents, I mean. I meant it to mean more that you’re a jerk.”

He shrugged. “Either way, you’re probably correct. Where were you going?”

“To a drink-fuelled party,” she said tightly.

His lips curved into what might have been a smile. “I don’t even almost believe that. Where were you going?”

She looked away from him. “I don’t know. Somewhere.”

“In the middle of the night. By yourself.” His tone was even, but hard. The control injected into each word more unsettling than if he’d been shouting. “You might not be under any current threat, but it seems as though you want to tempt someone to try something.”

“No. That’s not it. I …”

“What is it, Eva? You’re stubborn for the sake of it?”

“Hardly. I wanted to go out. I’m an adult, it seems like I ought to have the freedom to—”

“Oh yes, you think you’re an adult because you’ve reached a certain age, and yet you don’t show that you’re capable of making intelligent decisions.”

“I see, were you required to pass some sort of test demonstrating competence before you made a decision in your adult life?”

He moved closer to her and she stepped back, hitting the wall again. He was so close she could smell him, a faint hint of soap and skin. Musky and enticing. It felt dangerous to be so close to him, and she wasn’t sure why.

“I’ve been making my own decisions since I was thirteen,” he said, his breath fanning over her cheek. “And since then I’ve made good decisions and I have made very, very bad decisions. So trust me, I recognize both kinds when I see them, and I have only seen the bad kind from you.”

She swallowed, ignoring the sudden impulse she felt to draw closer to him. Maybe that’s why it felt so dangerous to be near him. Because controlling herself seemed harder. Because her body didn’t quite seem as though it belong to her anymore. “Bad or good, you were still allowed to make the decisions.”

“And there are some I would take back tonight if I were able to. You don’t ever want to be in that position. Trust me.”

She wanted to touch him. To put her hand on his face. To feel the sculpted muscles that she knew lay beneath his crisp dark suit. She curled her hands into fists and pinned them against the wall, forcing herself to deny the impulse.

He looked at her for a moment, the air between them too thick for her to breathe in. Then he turned away, putting his broad back to her.

“Go back to bed,” he said.

“You’re just … leaving?”

He turned back to her. “Do you need me to come and hold your hand? Tuck you in?”

Her heart slammed into her breastbone. “No.”

He inclined his head. “Good night.”

She just stood and watched him walk away. And tried not to wonder why she wished he would come back.

Makhail cursed the fact that he felt bad for her. That he felt anything at all. But the look on Eva’s face before she’d stormed out of the gardens the day before, and her escape attempt that same night, had done something to him. Had appealed to the small bit of humanity he had left inside of him. One he had thought long snuffed out.

She’d spent the rest of the day yesterday in her room. Her father had considered it a victory. It kept her well out of the spotlight, after all.

Mak had not seen it the same way. He wasn’t in the business of dealing with people who didn’t want to his services. And as much as he hated the parallel, he was essentially a babysitter with a gun.

And Eva was unhappy. Desperately so.

I want to live .

That word, live , had hit him hard in the chest. There was something about her in that moment that reminded him of Marina. When she’d been vibrant, whole, with her entire life stretching before her.

I don’t need anything but you, Mak. Everything else can wait .

Except there had been no future for her, no later time to experience the things she’d longed for. In one moment everything had changed. All of the somedays they’d planned had been lost. And he had thought, so many times, that death would have been sweeter than what Marina had been left with.

There had been many times he’d thought of what he would do differently. If he could turn time back eleven years and redo everything.

He’d been doing nothing but thinking of that since Eva had shut herself in her room.

He stalked down the corridor and into the dining room, where Eva was alone, eating breakfast at the same table she’d eaten at yesterday. A table that could comfortably seat thirty, but seemed only ever to seat her.

“Morning,” she said tightly, not looking up.

“Good morning, Eva.”

“We did this yesterday,” she said. “It didn’t go well.”

“Not really.” He looked at Eva, really looked at her. He could change it for her. He could make sure she felt some sense of freedom. He didn’t want to care about her, about her situation. It was a job, only a job. And yet, now that he’d made the connection between Eva and Marina in his mind, it couldn’t be shaken.

When he thought of Marina in the same position, asking for a chance to taste life … he wished she had tasted life.

She hadn’t. And then the opportunity was stolen.

So much of that was his own fault.

He wouldn’t do the same to Eva.

And the attraction you feel has nothing to do with this? He banished the thought. The attraction, such as it was, could mean nothing.

“What do you want, Eva?” he asked, his voice rough, even to his own ears.

She looked at him, her expression wary. “What … what do you mean?”

“I thought about it last night. About what you said.”

“Before or after I had my emotional meltdown?”

“Just before,” he said. “I cannot change what it is your father expects of you. That’s a matter between you and the king. It concerns your country. But we have these months, and I don’t have to keep you in the palace. As long as you’re willing to cooperate.”

“Meaning?” she asked, her tone wary.

“What would it take to make you happy?” he said, his tone hard.

“In this … in this scenario, where you’re asking me … I still have to marry the man my father chooses for me?”

“I told you, that’s a matter between you, one that has nothing to do with me. But there are things I can arranged if you like. Outings. Shopping. Dinner.”

“I … my father says it’s too hard to arrange all of the security required to—”

“Your security is my concern. It might have been too hard for the Kyonosian Guard, but it’s certainly not too difficult for me.”

“You’re not kidding?” she asked, her expression guarded.

“No.”

“I want … I want to choose my own clothes.”

“You don’t pick out your club wear?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I … actually no, it’s all been provided by the palace stylist. And if you saw what other women wore to those sorts of places, you’d believe me.”

“I do,” he said. He’d secured the perimeter of more than one of those types of establishments, though he’d never been in one as a guest. It wasn’t his scene. Not in the least. “What else?”

“And I want to go out and order my own dinner.” She spoke slowly, her words gradually picking up tempo as she went along. “And I want to go to the beach. And … and I want … I don’t even know everything I want because for so long all of my decisions have been made for me.”