Leo pouted. ‘I see?’
Matthias put their son down on the ground and then removed the clip from his waist. He held the sword—in its gold ceremonial sheath—so that Leo could run his fingertips over the blunted end.
‘Look, Mama. Pictures.’
At this, Matthias glanced up, his eyes locking onto Frankie’s, holding hers, and a look of searing heat flashed between them—a look that had the ability to blank anyone else from their presence. Her fingers fidgeted at her sides and then she smiled curtly, tightly, in a way that didn’t feel natural and dragged her eyes down to the sword.
But desire stayed lodged in her chest, desperate, hungry, craving indulgence. Out of nowhere, she remembered the way his mouth had felt between her legs and her knees almost buckled with the sensual heat of her recollection.
‘I see,’ she murmured, moving closer.
‘It’s very old,’ Matthias said, turning his attention back to the weapon. ‘It was my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather’s, said to have slain the king of a neighbouring country when war threatened at our doorstep.’
‘War?’ Leo was fascinated by this.
‘A long time ago,’ Frankie jumped in, sending a warning look to Matthias. He smiled at her and a dimple formed in his cheek that made her fingers itch to paint him. She had in her mind, so many times.
He stood, unfurling his body length and ruffling Leo’s dark hair at the same time. ‘You look beautiful.’ The words were quietly spoken, intended purely for her ears.
‘Thank you,’ she said, able to take the compliment when she felt her appearance was really the result of couture and hair stylists.
‘But not complete yet.’
She looked down at the dress and lifted a hand to the diamond choker she wore. ‘What have I forgotten?’
His smile was enigmatic as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular velvet box.
‘Would you do me the honour of wearing this tonight, Frankie?’ He popped it open to reveal an award similar to those he wore—a thick piece of purple fabric to which a small gold pendant was attached. In the centre of the pendant there was a star, with an arrow striking through it.
‘What is it?’ she asked, watching as he pulled it from the box. His fingers were deft and confident, and her mouth was suddenly dry.
‘The Star of Aranathi,’ he said. ‘An award that was given to my mother—one of my country’s highest.’
The meaningfulness of the gesture touched something in Frankie’s stomach, and it set in place a chain reaction. Butterflies stirred to life, slowly at first, then faster, until a whole kaleidoscope was beating against her insides. She was oblivious to the watchful eyes of Liana, who’d moved Leo away and distracted him with a juice carton.
‘What’s it for?’ she murmured. He lifted the ribbon to the top of her dress, his fingers almost clinical as they held the fabric taut enough to thread the pin through and latch it into place.
‘Humanitarian efforts.’
‘I don’t...’ Frankie frowned, studying Matthias up close. She studied him not as a woman who wanted a man, but as an artist evaluating a subject. She measured his features and imagined creating him from the nothingness of canvas and pigment. She imagined how she might mix her colours together to shade the cleft of his chin dimple and the very faint darkness beneath his eyes. It was his lashes, though, that fascinated her. They were black and curling, soft like silk and so thick, as though they were a curtain for his eyes. What of his face had been gifted by his mother, and what by his father?
When she looked at Leo, she saw so much of Matthias. But was some of the Queen there too? The Queen to whom this medal had once belonged?
‘I don’t know anything about her,’ Frankie finished after a moment. ‘But I’d like to.’
His expression shifted with pride first, and then surprise. ‘Why?’
Frankie tilted her head consideringly. ‘Because she was your mother. And Leo’s grandmother. And it strikes me that I should know something about your family, beyond the fact...’ The sentence trailed off into nothingness as she realised what she’d been about to say.
‘That they’re dead,’ he finished for her, his expression unchanged. She threw a scant look in Leo’s direction; the boy wasn’t listening. Nonetheless, Frankie’s brows knitted together when she regarded Matthias. She’d prefer to handle that conversation sensitively, when it came time for Leo to learn of his father’s family’s deaths.
‘What did your mother do to receive this award?’
‘Many things.’
‘War!’ Frankie startled as Leo seemed to jolt out of his reverie and, from the other side of the room, whipped the straw from the juice carton and held it towards Matthias like an ancient challenge to a duel.
Matthias’s face relaxed, the tension of a moment ago dissipating, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he returned, ‘En garde!’