Page 35 of Consort's Glory
No wonder he kept them close by, locked up safe in glass and polished wood.
There was no official statement on what happened to Raina Barbieri-Solbourne; only that she passed away in the chaos surrounding Thaddeus II’s execution. Margot knew her recent history well enough to put together that Theodore must have been only a baby then. At thirty-five, he was only just considered an adult under elvish law. It was entirely likely that he had no memories of his mother.
Just like her.
Margot turned her head just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. Any more and they would have bumped cheeks. “You’re lucky to have something of your mother’s to remember her by. I wish I did.”
Theodore rubbed his hand up and down her spine in a slow, comforting circuit. “Was your mother called to Grim, too?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know her name.”
“Does that make you angry?”
Margot pulled back to look at him more fully, surprised by his question. Most people asked if the fact that she didn’t know her parents made her sad, or begged off talking about it altogether for fear of upsetting her. But Theodore asked if she was angry. It was the kind of question only someone who understood would ask.
“It used to,” she answered, looking into his somber expression with open wonder. Just who was this man? “And I suppose it still does, deep inside, but you have to let go of that sort of thing eventually. It’ll poison you if you don’t.”
Theodore skimmed the pad of one leather-covered thumb over her cheekbone. It spoke to how much he handled her, and how much she craved that handling, that Margot barely noticed it beyond the usual thrill it inspired.
“Or, if you’re very lucky, you can have something come along that forces you to put aside that anger so you can take what you really want in life.” He fell silent, his expression achingly soft in ways she didn’t understand.
They stood in that silence for several long moments. There was no sound in the room besides the low hum of electronics and their own steady breathing. They looked at one another unabashedly, each amazed by the other for reasons all their own, and wondered what it would be like to close the short distance between them.
The sound of a cell phone vibrating on his desk broke the spell. Making a disgruntled noise, Theodore gave her cheek one last lingering touch before he stepped away to check his phone.
Margot turned away under the pretense of examining the books. She licked her lips and thought, Margot Ellouise Goode, you’ve lost your damn mind.
But now the thought was lodged in her brain and wouldn’t be dismissed. What would it be like to just… let Theodore kiss her? He clearly wanted to. Whether his reasons for wanting to were genuine or not remained to be seen, but no one looked at a person like that and didn’t want to kiss them. More disturbing than that revelation was the one that came after it.
Margot wanted to kiss him, too.
I’m dying. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to get her breathing back under control. I’m dying and that’s why I want to touch him so bad. I’m dying. My brain is one electrical charge away from oozing out of my ears. There’s no other reason.
It had nothing to do with his striking features, the way he moved, the confidence that seeped out of his pores, the way he looked at her like he wanted to get on his knees and beg her for something she didn’t know how to give. Absolutely not.
“That was my PR team.” Theodore’s voice shattered her train of thought. When she turned to look at him, Margot found him fiddling with a control panel on the edge of his desk. A clear screen flickered to life in front of his face, but she couldn’t see what streamed across it from where she stood, only the flashing light that reflected off of his high cheekbones and dark eyes.
“The news got out that the Healing House was destroyed,” he explained, tapping away at a projected keyboard. A thread of anger replaced the previous softness in his voice. “There’s no information out about the situation, obviously, but someone leaked your name and photo to the press. They’re speculating.”
Cold fear washed away the warmth in her blood. “They… Does everyone know who I am now?”
Theodore met her eyes through the screen. His expression was grim. “Yes, darling.”
Oh, goddess. Margot swallowed the acid swell of bile that crept up her throat. Her relative anonymity had been her greatest defense. Now that it was gone… It’s only a matter of time before people find out.
Margot met his hard look with one of wild-eyed panic. For the first time in a very, very long time, all her training vanished. “That’s bad, Sovereign. That’s— I can’t— No one should know who I am. That’s bad.”
“Only if we don’t nip it in the bud. We will.” He braced both hands on the top of his desk and leaned forward, his expression unbending. “You are safe, Margot. I’m never going to let anything happen to you again. Whether you believe me or not is irrelevant — it’s the truth. We are going to fix this together.” Theodore’s voice was sure, soothing in its unbending authority.
Margot’s spine straightened in response to that steel, a little bit of her panic falling away. The core part of her, the hidden, dangerous thing, knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would not let anything happen to her.
Instinct, she acknowledged. It was instinct and intuition that told her Theodore would take care of things. She just had to make the choice to trust it.
Feeling a little more calm, if not entirely on board with the idea of handing him the reins, Margot walked around the two plush armchairs in front of his desk to rasp, “What do you need me to do?”
Theodore gestured for her to circle his desk, allowing her to step into his intimate space. Never in a million years would Margot have pictured herself standing behind the sovereign’s desk. But there she was, circling it to stand fearlessly beside the sovereign as he laid a heavy hand on the curve of her hip like it was the most natural thing in the world.
With his free hand, Theodore nudged the clear screen toward her. Viewing it from the correct angle, she could see great swaths of information running across the glass: newsfeeds, emails, messages, data streams, stock tickers. Displayed most prominently, however, was a single message from his PR team.
