by Geneva Lee
Smith seemed to consider this. He’d been the one to point out that we likely had multiple traitors in our midst. Taking my security would be like playing Russian roulette with his wife. “Georgia?”
“I know someone.” That seemed to settle the matter. Given their connections and past, I didn’t want to know more about it.
“You want to contain this,” Brex said, bringing our conversation around again. “I don’t see how. Or for that matter, why.”
“Because it will be a shit show,” Georgia said flatly. “We won’t be able to sneeze without the media catching it on camera.”
“But we can’t pretend like nothing’s happened,” he said.
“He’s got a point. We can’t delay the news of my grandmother’s death. So while unfortunate, that will prove a distraction. It will also point interest at Clara.” I cleared my throat and relayed what the doctor had said about my grandmother’s pills. “It might simply be a heart attack, but the doctor seemed to think it was more.”
“How deep does this rabbit hole go?” Brex gave a low whistle, but he looked anything save amused.
“Would Clara do that?” Smith asked and we all turned to stare at him. He held up his hands. “She seems nice, but we haven’t spent a lot of quality alone time together.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said. Just the thought of my wife alone with another man scratched at my nerves. I fought against an image of a man touching her now. “No. My wife did not poison my grandmother.”
“No one would blame her if she did,” Georgia pointed out.
That was true. Mary wasn’t well-liked amongst the family. Or the public. Or, well, anyone who’d met her. “It’s just poor timing.”
“Is it?” Brex asked. He and Smith shared a dark look.
“Out with it,” I ordered.
“Your grandmother’s heart attack was a pretty big distraction. It shut the whole party down,” Smith explained. “You went with her without thinking.”
“I have a plan in place,” I snapped, slightly insulted that he thought so little of me. “I sent Norris with her. He followed protocol and maintained contact until he went radio silent.”
“That’s the problem. You followed protocol. In case of emergency, the Queen is evacuated, correct?”
“Of course.”
“Like the day of the Child Watch attack?” He’d found the piece of the puzzle that fit and it made the haphazard ones suddenly fall into place.
“We didn’t know why the symposium was attacked,” Brex said. “No one was hurt. What was the point?”
“It wasn’t an attack.” The room spun for a moment as I realized what we’d been missing.
“It was a dress rehearsal.” Georgia slammed a fist onto the table, but none of us jumped. We didn’t have any surprise left in us.
We’d considered every angle regarding the explosion at the Child Watch symposium my wife had attended in January, but now it seemed obvious. Whoever was behind it—behind this—hadn’t been looking to hurt anyone. My wife had been a target, but not in the way I’d thought.
“But we didn’t follow protocol,” Brex pointed out.
“Because Clara was being stubborn, and then you showed up.” Georgia pointed a finger at me.
I had arrived that day only moments after the first bomb had detonated. I’d come as soon as I heard there was possible danger—and someone had noticed.
“Fuck,” I roared. I’d handed them all the information they needed: who I trusted, who surrounded me and my family, and how I would react if my wife was in danger.
“They needed to keep you occupied,” Smith said.
“So they poisoned my grandmother.” It made sense in a twisted way. I’d gone with her automatically, trained to respond to my family’s needs in the way I’d been bred for.
“But what about Clara and the medication? I don’t see how that fits,” Brex admitted.
“They’re thumbing their noses at us.” Georgia laughed humourlessly. “There will be an inquisition into Mary’s death. The doctor knows that Clara handled the pills. Basically, they’re sending a giant fuck you. They know we can’t hide that Clara’s gone and what are people going to think?”
“She didn’t have anything to do with my grandmother’s death.” Anger rose hot inside me and squeezed my heart. It was ridiculous to even consider the possibility.
“But how will it look when she doesn’t respond or agree to questioning?”
“They want us to admit that she’s gone.”
“But without proof, people will think…” Brex trailed away as though deciding it wasn’t worth it to point out the obvious.
“That she’s guilty.” It was a brilliant maneuver that had been played so subtly. I hadn’t seen it for what it was. Now, though, all the mechanisms were clear. Someone had set up these events like a string of dominoes. How many had yet to fall?
“Maybe we can spin it to our advantage,” Smith said.
“How?” Georgia asked. It was a damn good question.
“Let the scandal unfold. Claim the Queen is horrified. Leak stories to the media about how she won’t leave the house,” he suggested.
“The public will crucify her,” Brex said.
“But their focus will stay on that.” I was beginning to see where he was going with this. I didn’t like it, especially given what it meant for my role in this.
“You’re going to have to distract them, Poor Boy, and let us go to work,” Brex said, sounding apologetic.
“That’s why we’re here.” I gestured to the same around us. “You three can move about freely, but my own movements will be watched.”
“Aren’t the King’s moves always analysed?” Georgia said dryly.
“Thankfully, this isn’t a chess match. We’ve been at war before and the Royal family was prepared.” Moving to the bulletin board I pressed a spot where an invisible button offered a solution to my problem. In the corner, the tile floor dropped an inch and slid open to reveal a staircase that led down.
“Where does that go?” Brex shot me a look that clearly indicated that he didn’t approve of not knowing about this.
“Only the monarch knows about this,” I explained, “until now. The King has a bit more freedom of movement than anyone outside this room knows.”
“I hope we’re all trustworthy,” Smith said. He seemed the least impressed by this revelation.
“I don’t doubt a single person in this room’s loyalty.” It was less important to say that than it was to imply what I hadn’t said.
“And the rest of them?” Georgia asked, slowly catching on to my meaning.
“I want them watched, particularly my uncle.” He’d been the one to ask Clara to handle that medication. His reappearance in my life had come on the heels of the Child Watch attack. In all honesty, it felt too easy. But if Henry wasn’t responsible, someone near him had to be involved. “Keep him in London.”
Georgia nodded that she understood the order.
“Alexander, what about Norris?” Brex asked.
I’d carefully left him out of most of our conversations, because as difficult as it was to face Clara’s disappearance, I’d primed myself to expect something to happen to her. I’d never considered that anything could befall Norris.
“Could he turn?” Smith asked. His question was met with three glares. “I guess not.”
“He would never,” Georgia said, anger coloring her voice.
Smith shrugged his broad shoulders. “I hope you’re right about that.”
“We are,” Brex assured him.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Smith sounded sincere, but he hesitated for a moment. “It’s just that if he’s not involved, where is he?”
If my heart was still in my chest, it might have hurt more to face what I knew to be true. There was only one explanation for why Norris had gone silent. But there was simply a gaping hole where it had been ripped from me and no pain left to feel. “Dead.”
“He might not…” G
eorgia began softly before losing conviction.
None of us wanted to believe Norris was gone. I still expected him to come striding into the room full of criticism for how I was handling the situation. But enough time had passed that I no longer believed he would. Later, I would grieve for him. Later, I would face the terrible loss. At the moment, my place was here, as his would have been. “Norris would want us to find Clara. That’s what he would be doing now.”
Georgia nodded in agreement, looking utterly stricken by the thought of his death.
“I won’t believe it until I bury his body.” Brex was as stubborn as I was, maybe more-so. I wished I could hold out some hope, but all of it had been taken from me. “Why would they kill him and not kill—“
“Because they wouldn’t,” Georgia cut him off before he could voice the fear that remained unspoken.
The air around us thickened as the words remained unsaid, until Smith finally offered a bit of logic. “Why would they kill her? It doesn’t make sense. There’s no leverage if she’s dead. Capturing her makes more sense.”
I wanted to be comforted by this, but the thought of my wife and death in the same sentence made that impossible.
“We won’t be able to do this alone,” Smith said, shifting directions. “Is it possible the Council of Ghosts is involved?”
Brex looked at him like he was speaking gibberish. “Council of what now?”
“Smith and I recently met a legend—the Council of Ghosts,” I explained. “Unofficially known as the Kingmakers.”
“You mean?” He scratched the back of his neck.
“Sometimes monarchs need to be deposed and they tend to be the ones to decide that,” Smith said matter-of-factly. It must be easier for him to consider their role in the assassinations of the rulers before me. I found it more unsettling.
“Did you piss them off?” Georgia asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “But they might be able to help. They’re powerful and they have a number of ties to people who know things.”
“I didn’t get the impression that they were interested in being your new best friends,” Smith pointed out.
That was true, but I had to consider every weapon in my arsenal, and the Council of Ghosts wasn’t even the most dangerous one.
“I’ll set up a meeting,” I said. “In the meantime, Brex?”
“I’ll review the security footage with Georgia and pull up the CCTV around the museum. There are eyes everywhere in London. We just have to find the right ones.” His confidence bolstered mine, but I knew it was false bravado. He stood and waited for Georgia.
She paused for a moment, opening and closing her mouth like she was going to say something but kept losing her nerve. It was very un-Georgia-like. “Yes?”
“I just found out about the baby,” she said. “Clara was going to tell you. I thought you should know that. I don’t think she wanted to accept it herself.”
“I’m not angry with my wife,” I said smoothly. I didn’t have any anger left for Clara. Not right now. Georgia looked at me like she wanted to say more, but instead she followed Brex away from our new, unofficial strategy room.
“Should we see the Ghosts?” I asked Smith. I hated how unclear the path before me was, and I could only hope he was thinking more clearly than me. I had more means at my disposal than most men alive—that didn’t mean I could always call on them.
“We could,” he hedged. If he resented losing an entire night’s sleep, he didn’t show it. Then again, he’d kept odd hours when he’d played attorney to the city’s criminal elite. He was used to this and used to dealing with them. That’s why I kept him with me now. “There’s someone else we should see first.”
“Who?”
“You aren’t going to like it,” he warned me.
“Where are we going?” I stood, already determined to make the call. I knew once I did that I couldn’t take it back. But when I’d said I would do anything to get Clara back, I’d meant it.
I thought back to the day we’d met the Council of Ghosts. He’d asked me how far as I was willing to go to end this. I’d thought then that I knew my absolute limit.
It seemed Smith planned to test that. “I asked you if you would sell your soul once. It’s time to meet the devil.”
Chapter 4
CLARA
I gave up. After the girl ran, I’d gone up and down the dark corridor, checking doors, but none of them opened. Whoever she was—if she were even real—she was gone. There was no sign of anyone else, either, but I couldn’t be alone. If someone wanted me dead, I would be. I’d been helpless when they knocked me out and brought me here. But I’d woken up, which meant someone wanted me alive. It wasn’t a very comforting thought but it was all I had. Eventually someone would come to me and explain why I was here. They would bring me food. I could reason with them.
I could beg.
I told myself these things to stay calm, because I knew that if I let myself think about this too long…
So, I waited, door open, in the little room where I’d found the clothes, where I’d seen the girl. Part of me wanted to shut the door and push the chest of drawers against it. I wanted to hunker down until Alexander found me.
I imagined him here now, his arms wrapping around me. I could almost feel his strong body pressed to mine—see that self-assured smirk flash across his face. My fingers brushed over my stomach, wishing they were in his hair as he swept me into a relieved kiss. I closed my eyes and for a moment I could swear I caught his scent—bergamot and vetiver and something indescribably him. I knew when I opened my eyes the false peace I’d felt would evaporate. He wasn’t here. I wasn’t safe.
I didn’t want to face it, but I couldn’t ignore what I’d seen when I’d paced the hall—or, rather, what I hadn’t. There were no windows. No signs of light. The doors in the corridor were heavy and reinforced. One of them must have led out and I didn’t want to know what lay behind the others. I hadn’t learned much by exploring except one thing: I was a prisoner. And wherever I’d been taken was secure.
So how was he going to find me?
I swallowed against a swell of panic. Freaking out wasn’t going to help, and there was the baby to consider. I’d been drugged and forced here that was more than enough stress. I couldn’t add anymore to the baby’s heart.
I was about to wander down the hall again and hope to spot a clue when a smiling woman appeared in the door.
She tugged at her white nurse’s uniform and my adrenaline spiked. Why would she wear that? My hands covered my swollen belly protectively.
I should have barricaded the door. I should have waited for Alexander to come.
“Would you come with me, Ms. Bishop?” She asked in a pleasant voice as though I’d just been called in from the waiting room at the doctor’s office. But this was wrong. This was all wrong.
“I’m married,” I said coldly.
“Our files indicate that you aren’t. My apologies.”
Was she kidding? I stared at her, waiting for her to crack and show that she knew who I was. Because how couldn’t she? But she didn’t look away. She didn’t smirk or frown. She simply returned my stare with a blank expression. “Where do you think this came from?”
“I’m not one to judge.” She stepped to the side and smiled wider. The shadows of the corridor washed away everything but the whites of her eyes and her teeth.
I held my stomach tighter. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where I am.”
“The doctor insists on checking on the baby. You had a traumatic event and with the baby’s heart condition, a test would be prudent.”
My own heart shuttered to a stop. Whatever their warped files said, that was correct. They knew about the baby, so why lie about who I was? I couldn’t trust her. I couldn’t trust this doctor. But I was out of options. I’d tried the other doors. I’d combed every inch of space available to me. What other choice did I have if I wanted to see where one of those other doors led?
“I’ll have to sedate you.” The smile slipped replaced by a disapproving scowl. “The doctor is quite insistent these tests be performed.”
Sedation meant I wouldn’t see where they took me or who performed the tests. It meant losing out on valuable information. It meant I had to play along, even if I wanted to fight. But it also meant I’d be awake and if this doctor or anyone else tried to hurt me or the baby, they wouldn’t know what hit them. No one was going to hurt me or my child.
“Fine,” I agreed.
She moved into the doorway, her unsettling grin returning, and waited for me. The corridor looked the same. There was no open door. No sign of where she’d come from. I followed her a few paces before she paused at a door. Across the hall from my room and two down. I made a mental note. The nurse paused a second before a loud whir and click echoed through the empty space. It had been unlocked automatically by someone else. Someone who was watching us —that was going to make things more difficult.
“Why am I here?” I asked her again, hesitating at the threshold. Fear tugged at me from both sides. Whatever was on the other side of this door could be my salvation or my destruction. But staying put wasn’t an option. It was nothing more than the illusion of safety. No matter that I found on the other side, I could turn it to my advantage. I had to.
She patted my arm sympathetically, shaking her head. “That’s above my clearance.”
Clearance? That was an odd choice of words. I tucked the thought away. I needed to stay alert. I needed to figure out where I was and how to escape. Maybe that started with finding an ally.
“What’s your name?” I switched tactics. Norris told me once that people loved to talk about themselves. He’d said that friendly conversation spilled more secrets than interrogation. I hoped he was right—I hoped he was okay.
“June.” She hustled me through the door, still acting like this was a normal day at the office. But this wasn’t normal. None of it was, so how could she act like this?