“A few days?” Grantham suggested. “Count Hadley and Count Friskar, as well as some of the others, will be in the area by week’s end, and since Hadley is not entirely supportive of this election—”
“Hateful man,” Giabella breathed, and couldn’t help but look at Dash. He had touched his arm, at the place he’d been shot months ago while trying to protect Grantham.
“Indeed,” Grantham agreed. “But since we could never prove his complacency in the plot to harm our family, he is a necessary evil, I’m afraid. And I thought the gathering might be the perfect place to show him the support is on our side.”
“Of course.” Giabella rose. “I will go up right away and start my preparations. Excuse me.”
Grantham wrinkled his brow at her sudden departure, but rose to his feet as she did. “Of course. Thank you, Mama. I could not do this without the family’s full-throated support. I appreciate it and you more than I could ever say.”
She squeezed his hand, sent a sideways look to Dash and then left the room. As she shut the door behind herself, she hesitated. In all his years of service, she had never seen Dash unhappy to do something on her behalf. But everything was changing. Perhaps he didn’t wish to be at her side any longer. An idea that crushed her. Crushed her more deeply than she should have allowed.
So she pushed aside the feeling and walked away. But the uneasiness was not so easy to erase. She feared it never would be.
Dash watched as Giabella slipped from the room, his heart sinking. There had been such tension when she looked at him. Not the usual kind, the push and pull between desire and duty…but something darker. More painful.
“Have you told her?”
He jumped at Grantham’s voice intruding upon his thoughts. Slowly he faced his king. “Er…no, not yet.”
“I’m surprised to hear that. Is there reason for your hesitation?” Grantham tilted his head.
Dash took a long breath. There was no way he could get into the plethora of reasons for his hesitations in telling Giabella that her son had offered him a full-time position in the government if the election came out in his favor. Not a servant’s place, but a place at the larger table, helping to steer the nation into its new future. And that he was strongly considering it.
Why?
Well, because being near the queen had become increasingly difficult in the last year and a half as she navigated the waters of widowhood. As her looks in his direction became longer. As memories of that night he’d nearly kissed her grew larger and louder and more insistent. One day he knew he would not be able to resist touching her…and then the world would change. Probably not for the better.
“Dash?”
He shook his head. “She has faced so much change since the death of King Alistair. This will—” He stopped himself. He had no right to suggest he held an importance in her life. Even if he knew it was true. “I will speak to her, Your Majesty. Perhaps there will be a good moment on this trip. After we feel out what is happening in the south and with the aristocracy.”
Grantham stared at him evenly, his expression unreadable as it was often unreadable. He drummed his fingers against the desktop. “I simply don’t want to see her hurt because I care for her. As I know you do.”
Dash swallowed and dropped his gaze. “Of course. As you said, all her subjects hold Queen Giabella in the utmost—”
“Dash,” Grantham interrupted softly. “I know you care for her.”
“Will that be all, Your Majesty?” Dashiell pushed to his feet and Grantham followed, still watching him impassively.
“Yes. All the arrangements should be swiftly made now that you are serving both her office and mine. Good day.”
Dash bowed and then moved to the door. As he stepped out in the hallway, he flexed his hand, trying to put blood back into his fingers. None of Giabella’s children, even Sasha, who Dash considered as almost his own daughter, had ever seemed to notice his attachment to Giabella.
Was he so weak that he was letting the walls come down? Yet another reason to separate himself before he did damage to her. To himself.
He moved down the hall at a focused clip, trying to make his mind go back to more appropriate topics. But he had not gone very far when Giabella stepped out of a parlor he had just passed. “Dashiell?”
He stopped, frozen at the sound of his name from her lips. He smoothed his jacket and slowly turned to face her. “Your Majesty, I did not realize you were still downstairs. I thought you had gone up to your quarters to have your maids ready your wardrobe.”
She stepped into the hallway and closed half the distance between them. “I was going to do so, but I…I wanted to speak to you, so I waited here.”
He blinked. “Speak to me?”
She motioned him toward the parlor. “Will you join me?”
He nodded and entered the room. When he turned, he watched her shut the door behind her and rest her hand against the barrier for a moment too long. They were alone. And they were often alone, yet this time felt different somehow. More charged.
She faced him and worried her hands before her. “Have I…done something to upset you?”
He moved toward her almost against his will. “Of course not! Why would you think such a thing?”
“I could see your resistance to attending me on this trip,” she said softly. “Do you not wish to go?”
“I am happy to go,” he assured her. “If you saw resistance it is only because of my concerns about your safety. You know I begin to run those equations the moment a new plan is hatched.”
She nodded, but there was no mistaking her relief in his answers. It washed over her beautiful face like a waterfall. “Oh good,” she breathed, raising a hand to her heart. “For you know I cannot do without you.”
He took another step in her direction and now they were certainly too close. He flexed his fingers but didn’t touch her. An impossible task. “Of course you could. You have always been more than capable at everything you’ve ever done, Gia…” He stopped as she caught her breath. “Your Majesty,” he corrected himself.
“Dash,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying in the slim space between them. He saw her body coil, ready to move even closer. To go beyond too close. To unleash something he would have to physically fight to deny himself.
But before control could be lost, there was a knock on the parlor door. She jumped and stepped back before she said, “Yes?”
When the door opened, it was Giabella’s maid, Betsy, who stood there. Her gaze darted from the queen to Dash and back. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, sir, but I’ve been informed of the imminent travel plans and I have asked that the royal tiaras and crowns be brought for you to choose from if you have time.”
Giabella shot Dash a quick glance before she turned to the door. “Yes, of course. I know we have little opportunity to ready for this journey so let us get that out of the way.” She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Dashiell.”
“Your Majesty,” he said softly.
She left then, Betsy trailing after her, the two of them chattering about gowns and crowns. He sagged, gripping the back of the closest chair.