And as I saw that day that the events of last night, and the busyness of the day, had had a significant effect on my queen, making her look more drawn, lines beginning to form around her mouth due to the constant tightness that I imagined was her fighting pain, I wanted to be close to my mother.

These thoughts heavy on my mind, as well as what had happened with Cassius that morning, and how, even if I was very right, I had gone about communicating that very wrongly, I entered my bedchamber.

And stopped short.

Cassius was standing by a divan in the corner, shedding his leather shirt.

“What—?” I began.

His head turned to me. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

My mind as frozen as my body at his presence in my chamber, automatically, I replied, “The middle.”

“Bloody perfect,” he muttered, turning and sitting, shirtless, on the divan in order to take off his boots.

His tattoos spanned his side, shoulder and most of his arm.

They were, as ever, fascinating.

I shook myself free of my fascination and took two steps deeper into the room.

“Cassius, what are doing here?” I demanded to know.

“We sleep together,” he declared, having taken off one boot, he was pulling off the other.

But again, I was frozen.

“We do?” I asked through stiff lips.

“Villains attacked the palace last night, Elena.”

“I do remember this.”

“Farah was targeted, Sofia lost.”

“I haven’t forgotten this either.”

His boots and socks gone, he stood and put his hands to the buttons of his trousers, his eyes on me.

“I’m not taking any chances.”

“So you intend to…to…sleep with me?” I asked, the end of that statement going up in pitch drattedly high.

“In terms of sleeping, as in actual slumber, yes. I’m fatigued, and as things have been going, tomorrow will likely not be less beset than today.” His gaze grew intense on me. “However, if you have something else in mind, I have no doubt I’ll be able to rally.”

I could not even begin to think of that something else that might be on my mind (and was, altogether too often).

“I don’t wish you to sleep with me, Cassius.”

“I don’t very much care, Elena,” he muttered, unbuttoning his leather pants.

“I don’t need you to sleep with me, Cassius,” I carried on, beginning to feel not a small amount of desperation, not to mention something else.

What did he have under those trousers?

I wished to see.

Anxiously.

And I very much did not.

Determinedly.

“I can take care of myself,” I finished.

“Well, you won’t need to, as I’ll be here to help you with that,” he retorted.

“Cassius!” I snapped.

He started to pull down his trousers.

I averted my gaze so strongly, my entire torso jerked to the side in the effort to do it.