Armand rose again, but this time came around the desk. With his hands light on Eve’s shoulders, he kissed both of her cheeks. “Your concern comes from the heart. My dear, we are grateful for it. You must allow us to have the same for you.”

“I’ll have the guard if it eases your mind.”

Her grudging acceptance made his lips twitch even now. She was not a coward or a fool, but as strong blooded—even headed—as his own children. “Thank you.”

If she noticed the irony, she ignored it. “What will you do?”

“What needs to be done.”

“You won’t release Deboque.”

“No, we will not.”

She could accept that, had expected no less. Capitulation didn’t stop threats. “But you will take precautions? All of you?” Her gaze slipped to Alexander and held. For an instant, perhaps only a fraction of an instant, her heart was in her eyes. He thought he saw more than concern, more than simple worry. More than he’d ever wanted anything, he wanted to step into what he believed was there and smother in the warmth. Instead he stood where he was, bound by breeding and necessity.

“It isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last, that the House of Cordina has been threatened.” The pride was there; she heard it. But below that, simmering just beneath, she heard the hunger for violent and decisive action. She didn’t retreat from it, but turned.

“Gabriella …”

“Eve, we can’t allow threats to rule our lives. We have a responsibility to our people.”

“We belong to the people, petite.” Armand’s voice softened as he took both her hands. “The walls of this palace are not for hiding behind, but for defending from.”

“But you can’t just go out, go on as if nothing has happened.”

“All that can be done will be.” Armand’s tone was firmer now, a ruler’s. “I would not risk my family indiscriminately. We will not risk ourselves.”

She faced a solid wall. Armand, flanked by Alexander and Gabriella. Even Reeve ranged himself with them. She thought of Bennett, careless, carefree Ben, and knew he would have stood just as solidly with them. “I have to be satisfied with that.”

“You are as one of my own.” Armand kissed her hand. “I ask you as a father, as a friend, to trust me.”

“As long as I’m still allowed to worry.”

“You have my permission.”

There was nothing more she could do, nothing more she could say. No matter how close she was, she remained an outsider. “I have to get back to the center.” She picked up her bag, struggling against the knowledge that she could do no more than that. She cast a look at Reeve. “Take care of them.” With a quick curtsy, she hurried from the room.