Everything was so different now. He stood on new ground with a CDS who hated his guts even more than Arturo had.
And tonight he’d have to face all the Caronese gerents…
Pain racked him as he remembered the last time he’d been forced to attend a Caronese symposium. It’d been unbearable.
Granted even a regular gathering of multinational nobles wasn’t the joy of his life. But at least when other empires were present, the mocking was kept to a minimum. The Caronese didn’t believe in airing their private ridicule to strangers.
Yet when it was just them…
He didn’t want to think about what was to come.
Why couldn’t Nylan do him the favor of dying already?
But the gods had never been friends of his. Rather, they intended to keep the bastard alive for no other purpose than to serve as an eternal reminder that Darling was nothing more than a stupid piece of shit.
The memory of their laughter at the last gathering still rang in his ears… “What’s the difference between Darling Cruel and a rooster? In the morning, a rooster says, ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’ while at night Darling says, ‘any-cock’ll-do.’ ”
“Are you okay?” Zarya’s voice cut through his misery to bring him back to the warmth of her touch.
“Just thinking about the meeting tonight.” He looked up at her. “Maybe you shouldn’t go to it.” The last thing he wanted was for her to overhear one of those stupid, juvenile jokes.
Anger flashed in her eyes. “I do know etiquette, Darling. I’m not going to embarrass you.”
His heart sank at her mistaken assumption. “It’s not that,” he quickly assured her. “I don’t know how they’ll react to my presence. The last thing I want is for them to insult you because of me.”
She leaned down and kissed his lips. “I don’t care what they think of me. None of them are worth a minute of my time, and I will not waste one thought on worrying about them when I’d rather spend it thinking about you.”
Darling wished he could banish them so easily. Instead, they kept rushing his mental blocks and slamming them to the ground. “I’ll have Maris there to get you out if it gets bad.”
“Who’ll protect you?”
“They won’t physically attack me, Zarya.”
“Yes, but physical blows heal a lot faster than psychological ones.”
Darling didn’t respond this time.
Worried about him, Zarya glanced down to see that he’d fallen asleep in her lap. Smiling, she brushed the hair back from the left half of his face so that she could study the surgery without Darling watching her. She couldn’t believe the difference it’d made. Syn was a certified genius when it came to medicine.
Darling was absolutely devastating. Those very faint scars actually enhanced his beauty. Without them, he’d lean more toward pretty than ruggedly handsome.
No one would ever mock his looks now.
But that wasn’t what concerned her most. If Darling didn’t make peace with the gerents tonight, he wouldn’t be governor long.
One of them would have him killed.
18
Unmitigated panic ripped through every part of Zarya as she stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t know the woman there. It was a complete stranger gazing through her amber eyes.
One who absolutely terrified her. Even though she had a royal and noble bloodline and had been taught the ways of the aristocracy, Zarya Starska wasn’t an aristo. She could only vaguely recall those days.
No, she was a soldier. A Resistance fighter. One who was more at home on a battlefield than walking through the land mines of social barbs and verbal slaps. While she technically knew how to behave at a royal function, she hadn’t been drilled on those behaviors since her mother’s death. All she knew intimately now was raw survival.
A survival instinct that told her to run.
I don’t know if I can do this.
She blinked her eyelids that were heavy from the makeup Gera had applied. Her maroon dress was so tight, she could barely breathe. Strapless, it was trimmed in gold and dark blue—the royal Caronese colors.
According to Gera, Darling would be dressed in dark blue, and this dress had been made to complement his official state formal attire.
I’d run for the door, but in these shoes, I might break my leg.
For that matter, she wasn’t really sure if the delicate lace high heels that had been dyed to match her dress really qualified as shoes. But, she knew for a fact that her sister would kill to own a pair of them.
Her door opened. She expected it to be Darling or Maris.
Instead, it was Gera. She had a strange expression on her face. One that never boded well for Zarya’s sanity or sense of norm.
“Did we forget something?”
Gera smiled. “No, Mistress. You look like an absolute vision. Any man would be honored to escort you.” She brought whatever she’d been hiding behind her back around so that Zarya could see a burgundy leather box.