“I haven’t felt free in eleven years,” I whispered.
A muscle jumped in his cheek and his eyes bored into mine.
“Thank you for making me feel free,” I finished.
Then I swept into the room, closed the door and told myself one day I’d forget the love and tenderness that suffused Derrik’s face at my words.
But I was lying.
Chapter Six
Not Your Biggest Fan
Apollo drummed his fingers on the top of his desk, scowling at the papers there as his secretary droned on.
But he wasn’t listening to a word the man said.
He was staring at the stack of missives that reported the frequent delays—and the reasons behind them—of Derrik’s party arriving in Lunwyn.
From the last letter, he estimated they were to arrive any day.
And he had a damned war to plan. For the gods’ sakes, he had no time to sit around waiting for a troop of guards watching over a single woman to frolic through three countries, taking double the time it should to make the journey simply because a female from another world wanted to watch Laures win a challenge.
“My lord, did you hear me?” Jeremiah, his secretary, called.
Apollo lifted his head and transferred his scowl to the man.
Jeremiah caught it and nervously lifted a finger to push his half-spectacles up the bridge of his nose.
“As I said, decline all invitations and my calendar is to be kept clear for the foreseeable future,” Apollo stated.
Jeremiah, nor anyone but rulers, a few select generals and trusted soldiers, knew that any day, at any time, darkness could descend, sweeping across the land, black magic and dragons at war, lives at stake, men taking up arms, no one safe.
This being the whole bloody reason he had no time to sit in his study waiting for some woman from another world to enjoy the new one she found herself in.
Jeremiah’s eyes got wide. “But, there are hunts and gales you attend every year.”
“I won’t be attending them this year,” Apollo returned.
“But—”
“Send my apologies,” Apollo ordered. “And Achilles will be arriving imminently. He’ll look after my affairs while I’m away. As soon as the party I’m awaiting arrives, I’ll be leaving for Bellebryn.”
“But—”
Apollo interrupted him by raising his hand as he heard running feet outside the door.
He trained his eyes to the door seconds before it was thrown open.
His young servant Nathaniel ran in and came to a swaying halt, snowflakes in his sandy-blond hair, his boy’s short cloak still on.
“You said to say the minute I saw riders and I saw a rider, sir. It’s Derrik returned,” he announced.
Bloody hell.
Finally.
“Go to Torment, saddle him and bring him to the front. Then get warm,” Apollo commanded and looked at Jeremiah. “Leave me.”