Defy (10 page)

to create muscle like that. As a member of his personal guard, I

68

was unsettled to think that I didn’t know. But the other side of

me — the feminine side — had to crush a sudden rush of butter-

f lies in my stomach.

“Do you need anything, Your Highness?”

“Alex, I believe I’ve told you before that you need not address

me so formally all the time. Especially now that we’re practically

bedmates.” He gave me a sardonic look, one eyebrow lifted. I

could have sworn he was suppressing a smirk.

My cheeks felt f lushed, and I prayed that my olive skin hid my

blush. A boy wouldn’t blush at that comment, would he? “Sir, I

would never presume to treat you with any disrespect.”

Prince Damian sighed and passed a hand over his face. “Of

course not. One must always treat the prince with the utmost def-

erence.” He sounded frustrated — almost disappointed. After the

last two days, I wasn’t sure it was just an act anymore, as I’d always believed.

Trying to hide my confusion, I asked, “What might I assist

you with, sir?”

He turned and narrowed his gaze at me. “You seem like some-

one I can trust. Second only to the captain of my guard, a dedicated

person, completely entrenched in duty.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. My heart beat faster beneath my ribs at the

look on his face.

“If someone should happen to bring me a letter, I wish you to

bring it straight to me. Do not open it or alert Nolen to its exis-

tence. Can I trust you with this?”

“Yes, sir,” I said again, more confused than ever. A secret let-

ter? That’s why he came out to talk to me?

“Excellent.” The prince paused. “I
want
to trust you, Alex. I 69

hope that I am making a good decision by asking this of you.” His

eyes were piercing on mine, sending a sudden rush of heat through

my limbs. “I’ve been told my whole life to trust no one. As a prince

and heir to the throne, I’m to assume that everyone is an enemy.

Do you think that is wise counsel? Do you think it foolish of me

to put my trust in you?”

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 f lippant, 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.”

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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 f loor 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 f lickered

from multiple candelabras around the room, making the shadows

stretch and sway, chasing the orange light of the f lames.

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

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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 f lat 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 f lashed, filling the room with bright white light, mak-

ing me f linch.

“Was there anything else?”

My eyes widened when I realized I’d been staring at his body.

My cheeks f lamed, 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 brief ly 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.

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 ten 

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 rectan-

gle 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 f loor. 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 f loor 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.

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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 out-

side, 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

74

sheen of sweat across it, his dark hair in complete disarray. He gri-

maced 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 star-

ing. 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 night-

mare. 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?

He thrashed on the bed again, his head turning toward me.

My breath caught in my lungs, my heart raced beneath my ribs as

I stared down at him. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and

his lips parted. In sleep, he didn’t look arrogant or spoiled. He

almost looked . . . lost. For one brief moment of insanity, I won-

dered what it would be like to lie next to him, to comfort him

from the demons that apparently chased him at night. To be held

against his body in the circle of his strong arms. To have his lips

touch mine.

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What is wrong with you?
I shook my head violently, horrified at the turn in my thoughts. Fantasizing about the prince would have

been bad enough if I were a normal girl, but as his guard — whom

he thought was a
boy
? It was absolutely inexcusable.

My cheeks burning, I hurried to set the letter down on the table

closest to him and turned to go. When I was halfway to the door,

the f loor creaked loudly beneath my foot and I froze, cursing under

my breath.

The labored breathing of Prince Damian’s nightmare-ridden

sleep halted abruptly. I stayed completely motionless, hoping he’d

roll over and go back to sleep. Instead, the bed quietly groaned in

protest as he sat up.

“Who goes there? Reveal yourself at once.”

I turned around, lifting my hands in the air, belatedly realiz-

ing I still clutched my dagger in one hand. Though the storm had

passed, clouds lingered behind, blocking the moon. The window

was behind me, but without the moonlight, I could only hope he

wouldn’t see the outline of my binding — or my body.

“Alex, is that you?”

“Your Highness, I apologize for disturbing you.” My voice

was strained from the effort of hiding my embarrassment. “But the

letter you spoke of earlier . . .” I gestured at his table, where the letter sat unopened.

He glanced at it, then back at me, his expression inscrutable in

the darkness. Even though my sight had adjusted, I could barely

see his eyes.

“And why, I wonder, did you feel it necessary to deliver the

letter with a knife in hand?” The prince’s tone hinged somewhere

between curiosity and accusation. I could have sworn I caught him

76

glancing down at my body before quickly looking up at my eyes

again.

In one f luid movement, I lowered my hands and slipped the

knife back into the sheath on my leg. Would it embarrass or anger

him to mention the obvious nightmare he’d been having? I