17. Cross

Every fiber of my being rejects the truth, but it’s too easy to accept Atlas’s accusation. Of course, Leni’s a princess.

Look at her.

The elegant rise of her chin when challenged. Her aversion to harm. Those pretty manners.

Even when she was injured, a couple of bruised fingers, her reaction was that of a sheltered royal, not a street-smart creature.

She’s a princess. Running to escape her duties. Suddenly, I understand her all too well. The evasiveness, the desperation, the choice of me. Why I felt so protective of her, why I knew I could never hurt her.

A princess. My fated is not just engaged, she’s a princess.

Leni was right. The Gods have found a truly devious way to torture me. Dangling the ripest fruit within reach and lacquering it with poison.

Rune passes Atlas a tablet, his light eyes cast at the ceiling, cheeks and throat ruddy. Uncomfortable.

If my head wasn’t spinning, I’d peel myself off Leni, throw a sheet on her, and grab some pants.

No. I’d kick them both out, and command Rune to forget what he saw. Tell him to destroy any evidence of Leni’s royalty.

A princess is all I can think. I want it to be wrong so badly; it terrifies me.

Fear rises up in my stomach and scatters tremors across my arms.

“I scraped an image off one of the cells Lev gathered,” Rune explains, scratching the collar of his polo.

For as uncomfortable our tech expert is, Atlas is at home. His gun hangs off his thumb like a missing shoestring. His eyes don’t dart or leer. He stares, cold and unfeeling, into me, drilling his disappointment.

“There’s a generous bounty for the safe and prompt return of Princess Eleni Amiacea,” he says. “Consort of Prince Draven of Queen Vinia’s line, sixth born and honored lieutenant.”

Draven, son of Vinia, stepson of Kadmos. I’d forgotten the name, dismissed it. None of the queen’s children appreciated Kadmos’s vision. And still, he arranged marriages for all of them as soon as they became his family.

Gifts.

Leni is one of Kadmos’s gifts.

She’s still naked beneath me, warm and sweet, flushed pink. The flavor of her lingers on my taste buds while I stare at the female on Rune’s screen, standing alone in an apple orchard.

White gown, flat lips, sad frosted gaze, with hair whiter than snow and pin straight down to her waist. It doesn’t look anything like her, but I know in my bones it can’t be anyone else.

Clarity billows through my mind, connecting wayward thoughts. Leni’s family sold her to the king. “You’re married,” I breathe.

Leni clutches at my forearms, blue eyes wide with panic. “I’m not. Cross. I’m not … I’m not even a princess.”

“We need to go,” Atlas cuts through her noise. “Wheels up in fifteen. Cars in eight. The house is burned. Meda’s slipped notice to her contact in the Queensguard. We’ll leave the princess here for their collection.” His glare skips past me to nail Leni. “Get her clothed and tie her up.”

“Don’t!” Leni begs. Tears clog the corners of her eyes, and I barely register her soft hands sliding across me, trying to dig in.

She’s one of Kadmos’s arranged marriages, not his blood. Not actual royalty.

Which means … there’s nothing protecting her. There’s no royal blood. My vow to safeguard the king’s line is moot.

My heart beat is slow, sickly, and my muscles are made of sand. I shut my eyes against her tears and fight to steady my voice for Atlas. “Understood. Rendezvous in eight. What’s left gets left.”

A strategic necessity. Leaving no leads, no information.

I rise to my feet, aware that I’m still entirely hard, harder than I’ve ever been, aware that Atlas hasn’t lowered his gun, aware that this room—this entire house — has never meant anything to me and now I loathe to leave it.

The bathroom where Leni smiled up at me, the table where we shared breakfast, the bed she spread out on.

I check the gun in my holster, breathing too slowly, head trapped in a fog.

“You good?”

It’s a command from Atlas. I nod, tearing on some pants. “Good,” I croak.

Leni’s got sheets wrapped around her, tears stuck to her cheeks, but her eyes are clear, almost vicious.

I wipe a hand down my face and realize my mouth’s wet, my tongue infused with her. “Fuckin’ hell.”

My mental files on Draven are the same for all of Queen Vinia’s children: bastards, born not to Kadmos, but welcomed into the fold, regardless. Neither allies or enemies.

“I won’t go back,” Leni says.

She’s not begging anymore. She’s demanding. A princess.

I toss a shirt to the bed, pants. What else does she need?

Shoes.

Leni jumps into the clothes, all the while crawling across the bed, telling me, “Please, you cannot leave me here. You don’t know what it’s like. Cross.”

I do. I do know what it’s like. I really fucking do. The unbearable weight of duty.

“I’m sworn to a beast!” She’s rocking on the edge of my bed, blue hair wild, cheeks light pink. “To a prince whose desecrated the word. I can’t marry him. He’ll kill me. Please. Don’t let them come for me, they’ll hurt me, Cross. That’s what he wants. To just hurt me.”

Genuine fear coats her from head to toe.

There’s only one reason the Queensguard would harm her.

Only one reason she’d come here, to me.

I shut my eyes, loosen the strap of my holster, let it drop to the ground.

Seven minutes.

I unload the loaded Sigs from my dresser, send the bullets down the bathroom drain. “The Queensguard works quickly,” I explain, ripping out a pile of t-shirts from the dresser to pry up the false bottom and pull out knives and daggers, a Glock, bundle them up, force open the window and toss them through.

What next?

“I will not go back,” she repeats, kicking into her pants. “I didn’t run for this, I didn’t kill—” She chokes on the word, shudders. “You made a vow to the king and I respect your choice, but I never got the choice, so I will not blindly bow to his whims.”

“You don’t respect my choice,” I accuse her. “You hate the king.”

It’s a guess, but she agrees, all too readily, “Yes, I do. He overreached with his power.”

She bounds for the door.

My controls shreds. “Open that door and you’ll experience a kind of violence from which you will never recover.”

I’m not breathing normally, something in my ribs won’t let me.

She stops, glares back at me, in my clothes again, a black bruise on the curve of her throat, blue eyes beautiful. “If you feel anything for me, any kindness—”

“I don’t.” I almost laugh at the rasp in my voice.

“Nothing at all?” she asks, eyes like twin moons. “I thought maybe you …” she trails off, looking more and more princess when she’s crestfallen, with emotions on her sleeve.

The struggle in my breathing intensifies, the power under my skin whips and crackles.

Moments ago, I was frantic with lust, starved for this woman who meets me match for match, lost in making a memory, unaware of anything but her, and now—

Now I’m breaking.

“Fuck, Leni, of course. Yes. I can still taste you like syrup on my tongue. Of course I feel for you,” I mutter. “But it’s nothing akin to kindness.”

“Then what?”

The rest. I feel the rest.

Chest stinging, I turn away from her to rifle through the nightstand, checking for excessively sharp pens. “Have you ever lied to me?” I ask.

“No.”

As I guessed. “And why not?”

“Because I don’t want to manage lies along with everything else.”

Exactly what I’d say. I smile to myself, snapping up my razor and chucking it out the window too. Hopefully, the mortals on the street are using umbrellas. I wish I actually cared. “Yes. Lies beget lies.”

Spy 101. When you can. Be honest.

So she’s given me the truth, good. Doesn’t mean she’s delivered all of it.

At least she’s not a princess. Not yet.

Not ever, if I have something to say but, all thoughts of destroying the fiancé have disintegrated. Royalty.

Fuck. As if I already weren’t hunted by the crown.

Focus.

Copper coats my tongue, my lip stings. I block it. “I’m only asking this once, Leni, and if your answer isn’t ‘no’, then you need to run. You need to get out of here and never, ever let me find you.”

Slowly, she shakes her head, blue bangs floating into her eyes. “I’m so tired of running.”

“I’ll kill you, Leni. That’s the curse, understand? I’ll hate myself, but I’ll do it.”

She freezes, eyes blinking rapidly, chest rising and falling.

I need to do this right. Calmly, I redouble the efforts to contain my power, and the curse heaves in response, snapping bloody teeth.

“Go to the door,” I tell her. “Grab on the handle. Good. When you run, make sure to slam it behind you. Listen to me. You dye your hair, you don’t go to the beach, you don’t go anywhere I might have a reason to search for you.”

“Cross—” she pleads.

“Did you kill the king?” She had access to the palace. She hated him, is smart enough to pull it off.

Her hand tenses on the doorknob.

I cling onto the windowsill, ready to throw myself through the glass if need be. Anything to slow me down, to give her time.

Her hand falls.

Answer enough for the curse.

“Run,” I whisper, a rib cracking so intensely, wetness charges into my lungs. “Fuck,” I collapse down to a knee, clutching my side. “You need to run. I won’t live with it.” My arm snaps. I’m shouting at her. At the princess. “Please.” I direct my gaze towards the skies. “Zeus the Thunderer, King of Gods. Strip me of immortality, release me of this cursed duty, free—”

She’s crossing the room. And I go faster, stumble through the devotion, the pleading and supplicating. I flinch when I smell honeysuckle. Throw myself backward. “Gods strike me—”

My vision turns black.

I’m going to tear her apart.