I opened my eyes. Blinding light seared into them and I screwed them closed again. When I moved my head, it set off a stabbing pain that jolted right down my spine and hurt all the way to my toes.
But I didn’t care. The pain meant I could feel again, could move again. I was alive.
Dr. Glavnic filled my vision. “Your Majesty!” He said it as one long sigh of relief.
I tried to sit up and at first he winced and tried to coax me back down, but I kept struggling and he sighed again, put his hands under my shoulders and helped me up. “You’ve been unconscious for almost seven hours,” he told me. “You were poisoned. Mr. Buchanan only just got you here in time.”
I looked around. We were the only two people in the room. “Where is he?”
Dr. Glavnic looked at his shoes.
My stomach lurched. “What?”
“The poison was in your bathwater,” he said. “Mr. Buchanan got soaked with it, carrying you here.”
“He carried me all the way here?!”
“He’s bigger than you and was in contact with it for less time, but the increased exertion meant it hit his organs more quickly and…”—he pressed his lips together—”we’d already used the antidote on you, Your Majesty. We sent for more straight away, but—”
“You should have split it between us! How is he?”
“He hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“Where is he?!”
“Next door.” His eyes bugged out as I tried to scramble off the gurney. “Wait!” he said. I ignored him. “Your Majesty, your body’s been through a huge trauma—” My legs were like jello but I gritted my teeth and stumbled on, clinging to the bed for support. The doctor cursed, put his arm through mine and helped me along. Together, we made it through the door, along the hallway and—
I drew in my breath. Garrett lay on a bed, his muscled form filling it completely, his feet almost dangling off the end. Monitors beeped in time to a slow, sickly pulse.
I grabbed onto the end of his bed. Someone was slowly crushing my heart with freezing fingers. This big, honest, good man, one step from death because he’d met me. And I couldn’t even show how I felt about him because Dr. Glavnic was right there, watching me.
“Could I have a glass of water, please?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice level.
“Of course, Your Majesty.” He paused and I could feel his eyes on the two of us. “It may take me a moment to find a glass.”
He knows. I wondered how many other people did. I nodded gratefully and he withdrew.
I staggered around the bed to Garrett’s chest and threw my arms around him. I began to cry, tears dripping onto his cheeks. “Wake up,” I whispered. “Wake up please because I need you here with me. I can’t do this on my own, Garrett.”
I buried my head in the crook of his neck and sobbed my heart out, clinging to him. And then a big hand patted my back. I lifted up, not daring to believe it. But he had his eyes half open. I gave a groan of relief and pulled him close. We stayed like that for a long time. I thought I heard Doctor Glavnic come in behind me... and then quietly leave again.
Garrett slowly sat up, wincing with pain, just as I had. Then he started to swing himself out of bed. “Wait!” I yelped. “You’re not meant to be—You got it worse than me, you shouldn’t be on your feet!”
“No choice,” he muttered. “Got to get to the evidence before someone gets rid of it.”
He leaned on me and I leaned on him and, together, we managed to stumble to the elevator and then climbed the stairs of the tower. There were soldiers standing guard in the hallways, now, and they gawped at us as we passed in our medical gowns, but we ignored them. In my bathroom, the bottle of bath oil was still on the side of the bathtub and Garrett reached for it.
“Careful! Don’t get any on your hands!”
He nodded gratefully, looked around, and then used a plastic shower cap to pick up the bottle. He turned it over a few times before showing me a pinprick hole in the neck. “Someone injected the poison into the bottle, so they could leave it still sealed.”
My legs weakened and I had to slump against the wall. Someone had crept into my bathroom and done this.
My last safe place was gone. There was a traitor inside the palace.
51
Kristina
Garrett wrapped me into his arms. I closed my eyes, put my head on his chest, and just let him hold me. I was physically and emotionally exhausted: having him almost leave, then almost losing him, now this….
One thing I knew: I needed this man in my life, no matter the cost. I ran my hands over those arms that made me feel so safe. I had to finish what we started, get him to open up so I could help him. “Look,” I said. “We have to—”
There was a knock at my bedroom door. When I opened it, Aleksander was there. “Your Majesty,” he said apologetically. “I’m so glad to see you’re alright. And you, Mr. Buchanan. And I’m sorry to ask when you’re still weak, but….”
“What is it?” I asked.
“The President of Sorvatia will be here in half an hour,” he said. “I was going to take the meeting on your behalf, but I thought I should ask, now that you’re awake….”
I nodded. “I’ll meet him.” I wasn’t really up to it, but we couldn’t win the war without Sorvatia’s help and it was my job as Queen. “I’ll need to change.”
Garrett stepped outside with Aleksander. “Your Majesty, I’ll be right outside your door.”
My strength was slowly coming back but my legs still felt rubbery. I took a quick shower and then clumsily laced myself into a corset and gown: meeting with a head of state called for the full, traditional look. Normally, I would have got Caroline to help me, but I couldn’t bring myself to call her, not when she was so upset about Sebastian. I did my make-up and pinned my hair up. The final step was to slide the crown carefully onto my head. Then I opened the door.
Aleksander was gone, but Garrett was right outside, just as he’d promised. When he saw me, his lungs filled, that strong chest rising. “... wow,” he whispered at last.
I glanced down at myself. I hadn’t thought there was anything special about it: he’d seen me in gowns before, though maybe never in red. This one was deep scarlet and deeply traditional, certainly not revealing or anything. If anything, with my hair pinned up and everything corseted and buttoned up tight, I looked super-formal. But the way he looked at me lit a warm glow inside me. “Thank you,” I said.
He led the way downstairs and then Aleksander showed us to the Great Room. The dark oak table had been polished to a mirror-like shine and decorated with gold candelabras.
President Belliani, the head of Sorvatia, rose to meet me. He was in his late fifties, with a greasy, balding pate and a slight pot belly hanging over the front of his expensive pants. He kissed me on both cheeks and then took my hand. “I am so glad to see you’ve recovered, Your Majesty,” he told me. “It’s been too long. When I last met your father, you were just a teenager.”
I nodded politely and we sat. As soon as I sat down, a wave of tiredness hit me. After everything I’d been through, I probably shouldn’t have been out of bed, never mind negotiating. But I needed Belliani’s help. I glanced over at Garrett, who’d taken up position behind Belliani. He must be exhausted, too. But he stood ramrod straight, hand clasped behind his back, ready in case I needed him.
“There is very little time,” I told Belliani. “Tomorrow, soon after dawn, we’ll attack Garmania. To defeat them, we’ll need to send our troops through your country so that we can attack from the north as well as the south. Will you allow that?”
Belliani nodded. “Of course I will help you, Your Majesty.”
I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. “Thank you, Mr. President. Now—”
“I will help you as I helped your father,” he said, “last time you had a war.”
Had a war. As if it was some game we chose to play. But I nodded in thanks. “Now—”
“My roads will be b
ombed again,” he said. “My infrastructure damaged... again.”
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, caught off balance. “We are indebted to you, Mr. President,” I said sincerely. “And of course we’ll pay for—”
But he waved aside my offer and leaned forward. “I help you because our countries have always had a special relationship. A relationship I consider very important.”
“As do I.” I smiled gratefully, but I was flustered and confused. I didn’t see where this was going. What the hell did he want?
“You will have my help,” he said. “Your troops can pass freely through my country. And when you’ve won your war, I look forward to you visiting my country.” He smiled. “Have you been to my villa in the mountains?”
I shook my head, smiling back at him. “No, but I’d lov—”
And then I froze. He was staring into my eyes in a very particular way.
“It’s very private,” he assured me. “A chance to get away from the public.”
I’m imagining things. He’s not—He can’t be….
“Would you like that, Your Majesty?”
He was. I could see it in his eyes, just as clearly as if he’d been some drunk in a bar propositioning me. He was offering passage through his country... but only if I promised to sleep with him. And as soon as the realization hit, it was confirmed: a twitch, at the corners of his mouth. He knew that I knew. And it amused him to see me struggle with it.
My first reaction was shock. He’d gamble with my country’s future, with millions of lives, just so he could say he’d bedded a queen? Then anger. How dare he? Of course I wasn’t going to—
Then my stomach lurched. What would happen if I didn’t do it? Even as a teenager, I’d followed the last war closely enough to know that moving our troops through Sorvatia had been vital to our victory. If I refused him, I was condemning us all.
This was my duty. I was asking my soldiers, male and female, to lay down their lives for their country. All I had to do was endure an hour lying on silk sheets in a country house. No one would ever have to know.
My mother was right. This is what she’d meant: a queen’s relationships aren’t for love. I’d sleep with Belliani and, eventually, I’d marry a man like him to prevent some future war, or secure Lakovia’s safety for the future. That feeling I’d had, ever since the war... it would never go away. Because even when I married, I’d still be alone.
I swallowed and lowered my gaze. I could feel Belliani smirking. He knew what my answer was going to be.
52
Garrett
I stood behind Belliani, listening with growing disbelief. At first, I thought I must have gotten it wrong. I wasn’t used to all this double-talk and subtlety. But when I saw the look on Kristina’s face, I was sure. This bastard was talking about bedding her. He was the opposite of her: he was everything I hated about politicians, playing with soldiers’ lives just to get what he wanted.
My hands curled into fists behind my back. I wanted to grab Belliani by the neck, ram his head into the wall, and shake him until he apologized. But she was The Queen. I had to let her deal with it her way. As soon as she’d given the bastard a dressing down, I could enjoy throwing him out.
But she didn’t yell at him. She sat there staring... and then lowered her eyes. She can’t be….
She was. She was considering it. She was going to sacrifice herself for the good of her country.
No way. No. Fucking. Way. I had to stop her, even if it meant we lost the war. I stepped forward to grab Belliani.
But then, suddenly, I didn’t need to.
53
Kristina
It was the crown.
I’d been staring at the table. As I made my decision and lifted my head to look at Belliani, I felt its weight pressing down on me. I suddenly knew why they made it so heavy.
It was to remind you that you were The Queen.
I stood up. “President Belliani. If you think that I will spread my legs for you to—”
Belliani interrupted with smooth confidence. “Your Majesty! You are mistaken. I would never presume to—”
“I HADN’T. FINISHED. SPEAKING.”
The room went utterly silent. I’d done the Queen voice for the very first time. It had been inside me all along. All the color drained from Belliani’s face. “You will allow my troops to pass. You will allow me to save my people. You will do this without any sordid deal. Or you will make me into something you don’t want: an enemy.”
Belliani had to swallow three times before he could work up enough saliva to speak. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he croaked. “It would be my honor. I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
I glanced at Garrett and froze. The look on his face scalded my cheeks and sent a hot throb sinking down to my groin, where it detonated. Oh my God….
All of those rules and traditions, everything that had seemed so important, even his past: it had all just been overridden. He’d always seen me as a princess. He’d just seen me as a queen.
I had to get Belliani out of that room. I had to get him out now.
I walked around the table towards Belliani. He got up so fast, he knocked his chair over. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He bumped into Garrett and then shrank back from his furious expression. When he looked at me, though, he looked even more scared. He backed through the door as if not daring to turn his back. “Sorry,” he kept repeating. “Thank you, sorry.”
I nodded coldly and pushed the door closed behind him. I just had time to turn around—
Garrett pinned me to the door with his kiss.
54
Kristina
Breathless. That’s the best way I can describe it. Breathless because it happened so fast. Breathless because neither of us wanted to stop to breathe. Our mouths were panting and desperate, our lips finding each other so easily, trained by countless hours of fantasy. Our tongues explored each other, finally free, and then danced joyously together.
All of my focus was on the kiss, on the way his lips sought and demanded, on the way they pressed and spread me just right. So it took a while for anything else to sink in.
I was up against the door. Up against the door. As in, my feet were actually off the ground. Those big hands were on my hips, just below the hard ridge where my corset finished, and they were pinning my ass to the door. My feet dangled but I didn’t slip: I was held there as securely as if I was sitting on a seat.
He was pressed against me from groin to chest, his hard body pressing me tight against the wall and even tighter each time he inhaled. But it wasn’t uncomfortable: I felt gloriously safe and protected. And... small. There was something about being held there so easily. After being The Queen non-stop for days, after all those huge decisions, to be... manhandled and kissed and just be passive was exactly what I needed.
My head was rocking against the hard wood of the door as he kissed me: luckily, my pinned-up hair at the back was a perfect cushion. He finally broke the kiss and drew his head back just a few inches so that he could look at me. He lifted one big hand to my face and took my chin firmly between finger and thumb. To keep me pinned there, he pressed his groin hard against mine and I swallowed as I felt the hard bulge of him through his uniform pants.
I searched his face. What had changed: what had finally broken through all the reasons why not?
His thumb and forefinger flexed in slow rhythm where they gripped my chin. I could feel the sexual heat, throbbing through him, almost beyond control. “Can’t fight it anymore,” he growled. “Not when you’re….” He inhaled, his chest expanding with lust and pressing me even harder against the wall. His eyes flicked over me, telling me what he couldn’t put into words.
When I’m so buttoned up and corseted and formal and imperious.
When I’m a queen.
He was the opposite of Belliani. That bastard had resented a woman in power. I threatened him. The only thing I was good for was being a trophy: he wanted me so he could strip me d
own to nothing, to make me come begging to his bed, to show that I wasn’t really a leader.
But Garrett had wanted me when I was in jeans in a rib shack and when I was bruised and dirty and shivering in a sewer. He wanted me. Yes, all the formality turned him on and yes, he wanted to strip it all from me. But not to weaken me, like Belliani. To release what he knew was underneath.
I hesitated for a second. There’d be others like Belliani. There was my mother, there was the media, the people. None of them would like the idea of me with a commoner.
Garrett saw it in my eyes and his eyes grew stern. “Kristina,” he rumbled. “For once in your goddamn life, do what you want.”
I looked into those clear blue eyes...and kissed him as hard as I could.
He groaned in pleasure and pushed his body even harder against mine, freeing his hands so that he could run them up and down my sides. Then he suddenly grabbed my waist and lifted me, carrying me across the room. We were still kissing and the feeling of being carried, floating, almost, my feet kicking in the air while I hung from his hands, was heady and amazing. He walked me over to a wall and pinned me there, still kissing me. His hands roamed over my body, over my hips and thighs and breasts, until I was squirming and panting.
He broke the kiss and stared at me, eyes hooded with lust. My lips were throbbing, hungry for him.
He reached for the fastenings at the back of my dress. My eyes widened. “Here?”
“Yes, dammit,” he growled “Here.”
And he undressed me. Or tried to. The dress wasn’t designed with quick exits in mind. “First you need to open the catch at the top,” I panted. “Then there are pearl buttons that unhook, right down the—”
His big hands grabbed the fabric at the front of the bodice on both sides. Oh.
Saving the Princess Page 22