Free Princess by Gaelen Foley Page A

gently toward the door. “Come on, you hellion. What were you going to do to her anyway, smash her a facer?”
    “Maybe,” she shot back, flouncing a few steps ahead of him as they set out down the hall, but it was right then she decided, with all the stubbornness she possessed, that if she was in need of a protector for the next few weeks, then, by goodness, she was the Princess Royal and she should have the very best.
    Only the great Santiago would do.
    She was sure she could persuade Papa of the wisdom of this decision.
    Fairly sure.
    Yes, she thought fiercely, Papa could get some other man to do his dirty work for a change. Darius was tired, wounded, and worn out. He would never look after himself properly unless he was forced to. With a wound like that, he had no business running about trying to catch spies. Somebody had to take care of him or he was going to self-destruct. Her mind was made up. Even if she had to twist Papa around her finger, Darius was coming with her.
    Somehow she sensed it might well be a matter of survival for both of them.
    Julia Calazzi was still shaking by the time she slipped around the corner, down the dimly lit marble hall from Santiago’s suite. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and strove for calm. Her heart pounded with hellish fury.
    She knew that scratchy, luxurious voice.
    Now that she had realized, belatedly, who was in the room with him, Julia was torn between relief and an even greater alarm. Calling Darius back to bed was just the sort of joke the little witch would enjoy, just to grate on her. But Julia knew full well that Santiago would never lay a hand on the king’s precious baby girl.
    There must be some mischief afoot, she decided. Offhand, she could think of any number of possible disasters brewing in the palace that could have brought Santiago rushing home. Philippe Saint-Laurent? Orsini? She knew of them all.
    Well, she thought, it comforted her to realize he was probably merely on duty, protecting Her Highness, as always. Yet this thought, too, brought a faint sneer to her face. Why had no one ever protected her ?
    Over the past several years, Julia Calazzi had staked her claim on the king’s right-hand man, the elusive, the beautiful, blackhearted Santiago. The whole court believed that if anyone could ever snare him, she, La Divine Julia, would be the one.
    She did not care that her friends pursued him for the occasional dalliance, for truly, a night in his arms was a harlot’s dream. Their knowing what a fantastic lover he was only enhanced her victory. Though most had enjoyed him, all acknowledged that she was the only one equipped with the wits and treachery to match him, trick for trick.
    Only, over time, as she had grown close to him—insofar as anyone could be close to Darius Santiago—Julia had come to realize what no one else saw, a situation which boded very ill for her planned conquest. He was smitten—poor, tragic, laughable fool—with that spoiled, silver-spoon beauty, the king’s daughter.
    God, she despised the Princess Royal. Why did everyone act as though that barefooted little heathen was God’s gift to the world?
    Still angry, Julia winced at the prick of her nails digging into her palm. She opened her fist and looked down at her hand, still red from the slap she had dealt him.
    That had been unwise, she mused, flexing and clenching her jeweled hand in thought. She could hardly afford to alienate him—literally, could not afford it. Her face hardened as she recalled for the thousandth time the tedious burden of her financial situation.
    Her husband had died leaving her nothing but debts from his witless investments, but Julia vowed to herself that as soon as she could cast her snare around Santiago’s neck, her worries would be over.
    That Darius was rich was little known because he did not believe in ostentatious display. Not only did he have the ear of the king and countless international personages, but his