Page 72 of The Royal Curse

The whole room seemed to be holding its breath. I knew I was.

My mother drew herself up to her full height, only an inch or so less than my own, with her carefully arranged hair and her crown bringing her higher—and her royal poise making her larger than life.

At last she sighed, shook her head, and—smiled. Something in her eyes made my chest tighten—gods, seeing my mother’s sadness beneath her self-control always hurt—but she smiled.

“Very well,” she said. Very well? “Close your mouth, Niko, it’s very unappealing. Captain, come here.”

My siblings stood aside to allow Andreas to pass by, and then he was right there. I could almost feel the warmth of him, smell the enticing scent of his skin, leather and steel and soap and pure Andreas. My fingers itched to reach out to him.

He bowed deeply, only rising after a pause long enough to show the most profound respect. “Your Majesty, if you’ll allow me to present myself,” he said. “I’m ready to give you my report at your convenience.”

She chuckled. “Better late than never for the proper formalities, I suppose. At ease, Andreas. I had your letter, and Niko’s. That was all highly informative, enough for now. Although I will expect you in the council chamber at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, ready to give your full report and your assessment of Calatria’s involvement in this affair. In detail.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said.

She nodded. “And in the meantime, we will expect you to supper tonight. Ensure that Niko arrives on time, if you please.”

Andreas’s eyebrows went up, and it might’ve been my imagination, but I thought he went a little pale under his tan. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes, Your Majesty. Ah, forgive me. Will I be, that is—”

“Sitting at the table wearing something that hasn’t seen weeks of travel, if you please. Both of you.” She turned to me, a glint in her eyes that had me frozen like a rabbit in the sights of a silk-clad hawk. “You’re nearly thirty, as you say, and perhaps the queen has no right to interfere in your personal affairs,” she said pleasantly. “But as your mother, I look forward to hearing all about how the two of you became…close. Not to mention your plans for the future. A wedding, for example. Any son of mine will observe the proprieties.”

Or elsehung in the air unspoken, as clear as if she’d shouted it.

A muffled squeak and a hissed admonishment sounded like Franco had started laughing again and at least one of our sisters was shutting him up.

Oh, gods, I’d be lucky if Andreas didn’t run screaming. He’d come from Calatria to take service with Surbino. He could go somewhere else just as easily. Enzo would probably appoint him his second in command in an instant.

My heart in my throat, I finally dared to look up at him.

And I found him smiling blandly, calm and unruffled once again. As if the idea of a wedding didn’t worry him as much as supper with my family, for fuck’s sake! Then again…he had a point there. The prospect of that supper, choking down bites in between telling my eager family how Andreas and I had become…close…was turning my stomach in an entirely unappetizing way.

“Niko?” my mother said. “Are you quite well?”

Beneath the sarcasm, I detected a real note of concern. I opened my mouth to reassure her, but Andreas got there first, cutting in smoothly with, “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. But would you allow me to escort Prince Nikola to his rooms? It’s been an arduous journey. He needs his rest.”

“Rest,” Amara huffed. “Right.”

“Amara!” Philippa and my mother said.

My eyes met Andreas’s, and I read the same level of “fuck this” in his that I knew shone from mine. A hot, giddy, floaty sensation bubbled up in my chest.

“If we’re going to be able to come to supper, I need a nap,” I said, never breaking Andreas’s warm gaze. “Now. We’re going. Right now.”

And without waiting for permission—because why should I, after all? I was one of four people in the kingdom who didn’t need to worry about being hanged for it—I seized Andreas by the arm and all but dragged him away, elbowing Franco aside when he didn’t move fast enough.

“Thank you, Your Majesty!” Andreas said hurriedly, and then in a lower voice, “Your Highness, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you damn well can,” I hissed. “See you at supper!” I called out.

With my free hand, I yanked the door shut behind us, getting one last glimpse of my family’s faces: my mother wearing a bemused expression that meant we’d be hearing it later, but that Andreas wouldn’t be in a cell anytime soon, Philippa shaking her head but smiling, and Amara and Franco gaping. Good. Let those two see their older brother setting a good example, for once.

The click of the door echoed in the quiet hallway.

I looked up at Andreas, and I found him gazing down at me, his eyes soft, his smile…well, foolish, really. Besotted. He didn’t show any sign of wanting to run away and join Enzo’s band of ruffians.

But I had to be sure. “You know supper’s going to be—no matter what methods you mean to use to interrogate Dario, my mother’s going to do worse. Andreas, you don’t have to—”

He caught me around the waist, crushed me against his chest, and kissed the breath out of me, my lips bruised and my body bent back over his arm. Right there in the hallway outside my mother’s study.

---