Protect the Prince

by Estep, Jennifer

  Maeven was nothing if not clever, and so far, her accomplices had been just as devious. But Helene had left all these incriminating things lying around in plain sight in her workshop. Finding the cactus, the pot, and especially the ring seemed far too . . . easy, and I couldn’t ignore my sneaking suspicion that they had been left here for me to find. But why? Was Helene really that foolish? Was she daring me to catch her? Or was someone else framing her?

  I couldn’t confirm my theories one way or another, so I set down the ring where I had found it, then looked over the greenhouse, making sure that everything was the same as when we’d first entered. “We need to leave before Helene or someone else comes in here.”

  I had barely finished speaking when I heard a key slide into the lock. Paloma heard it too, and we both froze.

  “Come in.” Helene’s voice floated through the door. “I’ll give you a tour.”

  My head snapped back and forth as I searched for another way out of the greenhouse. I spotted a door in the glass wall. I pointed it out to Paloma, and we hurried in that direction.

  Luckily for us, this door wasn’t locked with magic or anything else, and we slipped through it and stepped out onto the balcony. I darted to my right and pressed myself up against the cold stone wall of the palace, although I could still see inside through the glass. Paloma did the same thing beside me, literally breathing down my neck.

  Too late, I realized that I’d left the balcony door open, and I pushed on it with my hand. It swung toward the wall, but it didn’t quite shut, leaving a crack of space between the glass and the frame. I grimaced, but I didn’t dare step forward and try to close it the rest of the way.

  “Strange.” Helene’s voice drifted out through the cracked door. “I thought I locked the greenhouse with my magic, but I must have forgotten.”

  The plant magier strode into view, still wearing the green ball gown she’d had on at dinner. She unwound a black silk wrap from around her shoulders, revealing her muscled arms, and laid the cloth on a table. Then she turned around, a smile on her beautiful face.

  My stomach clenched with dread. I’d seen her look at only one person like that.

  A second later, my worst fear was confirmed, and Sullivan stepped into the greenhouse and shut the door behind him.

  I hadn’t seen him since he’d stormed out of my chambers earlier, but he looked much calmer now, as if he’d made a decision about something important, like exactly how much he despised me. My heart squeezed tight, but I’d brought his contempt upon myself, and there was nothing I could do about it now. Maybe not ever.

  Helene strode over to a table covered with liquor bottles and glasses. She poured two snifters of what looked like Ungerian apple brandy and handed one to Sullivan. He nodded his thanks, then wandered around, staring at the plants, flowers, papers, beakers, and creams.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said that you had expanded your operation.” Sullivan took a sip of his brandy. “I remember when you only had one little table of plants in here.”

  Helene beamed with pride. “Ever since my father’s death, I’ve become much more involved in the family business. Now that I’m running things, I can finally offer some new products, just like I’ve always wanted to. Not just beauty creams for wealthy nobles but products that anyone can afford, like this burn cream.” She pointed out the same jar that Paloma and I had examined earlier. “Things that can really help people.”

  “I always admired that about you,” Sullivan said. “That you wanted to sell your products to everyone, even though your father only cared about pleasing the other nobles.”

  She shrugged. “It’s just good business sense. More customers means more money. Besides, you know how much I’ve always enjoyed growing new plants and experimenting with new ingredients and formulas.”

  I wondered if those new plants, experiments, and formulas included poisoning King Heinrich and the weather magier, but of course I couldn’t knock on the glass wall and ask her.

  Helene eyed Sullivan over the rim of her snifter, then took a dainty sip of her brandy and set it aside. “But chitchatting about my family’s business isn’t why you asked me to give you a tour.”

  His fingers curled around his glass, but he didn’t respond to her obvious opening, so Helene smiled again and walked forward, stopping right in front of him.

  “I truly am sorry about Everleigh and Dominic,” she said. “I can see how much you care about her.”

  Sullivan drained the rest of his brandy, then set the glass aside. “It doesn’t matter. Not now.”

  Helene smiled again. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sullivan stared down at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Helene swayed even closer to him, then stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

  For a moment, Sullivan just stood there, with her lips on his, but then his hands settled on her waist, his eyes drifted shut, and he leaned into the kiss.

  My heart shattered at the sight, each cold, sharp shard twisting itself deeper and deeper into my chest. Every second they kissed made me want to scream. I longed to charge through the door, tear him away from her, and confess my lies, but I stood there in stoic silence. I had no right to be angry with Sullivan. I was the one who had hurt him and driven him away, and now I was seeing the horrible consequences of my actions.

  Paloma placed a hand on my shoulder. I nodded back, grateful for her support. It wasn’t her fault I wanted the one person I couldn’t have.

  Sullivan’s kiss with Helene went on . . . and on . . . and on . . .

  Suddenly, he dropped his arms from her waist and drew back. “I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair and then down his face. “I can’t do this.”

  “Really?” A mocking note crept into Helene’s voice. “We both know that the real reason you asked me here was so that you could fuck me and get your revenge on Everleigh. And now you can’t go through with it?”

  Sullivan let out a tense, ragged breath and shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed in understanding. “You really do care about her.”

  He let out another breath. “I’m sorry, Helene. I shouldn’t have tried to use you like this.”

  She let out a light, pealing laugh. “Use me? I was the one using you, dear, sweet Lucas. You always were a fantastic fuck, and I was going to wring every drop of pleasure I could out of you tonight. But then you had to go and ruin it with your feelings.”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head, as though she was deeply disappointed in him. Then she walked over, grabbed her silk wrap from the table, and draped it around her shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” Sullivan asked, his face creasing with confusion.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Helene said. “I’m leaving you to your anger and self-pity. Because those things, my dear, definitely do not lead to a good time for me.”

  Sullivan winced. “And what about fucking me for your own pleasure?”

  “It’s obvious that you care far more about Everleigh than you ever did about me.” Her face hardened. “And I am no one’s second choice.”

  He winced again.

  Helene finished draping her wrap around her shoulders, then walked back over to him. She studied him with far less anger and hostility than before. “Do you know why things didn’t work out between us?”

  Sullivan blinked, as though the question surprised him, but he answered her. “Your father forced you to break off our engagement.”

  “That was part of it, but I also handled things badly, which I deeply regret,” Helene said. “But the truth is that you always loved your precious pride and principles more than you did me, Lucas.”

  His eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What? That’s not true.”

  “Oh, yes, it is,” Helene said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I could have eventually found some way to be with you, with or without my father’s approval. But you didn’t giv
e me a chance to do that or anything else to make things right between us. You were so caught up in everyone treating you exactly the same as Dominic and Frederich that you just couldn’t be happy with anything different, with anything less.”

  “Why should I have been happy with less?” Sullivan growled.

  “Because life can be a cruel, heartless bitch,” Helene snapped. “Because we should hold on to the happiness we have and not worry about what other people think of it, or especially of us. Because caring about someone occasionally means compromising something about yourself for their benefit and not your own. That’s what real love is, Lucas.”

  “You didn’t compromise anything,” he growled again.

  She gave him a sad look. “Oh, yes, I did. I gave you up so that my sisters would have a good, secure future. So that they could marry for love, even if I couldn’t.”

  “So what you’re really saying is that you loved your sisters more than you did me.” Hurt rasped through Sullivan’s voice.

  Helene shook her head. “It wasn’t about loving them more or you less. It was about protecting all the people I loved the best way I could.”

  “And you decided to sacrifice me, us, for the sake of your family?”

  “Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “Because my sisters were young and couldn’t take care of themselves, and all it would cost you was a broken heart and some wounded pride.”

  In that moment, my respect for Helene grew a hundredfold. Whether she was the traitor or not, she’d made the hard choice to give up Lucas for the greater good of her family. It was too bad she didn’t have any Blair blood. Helene would have made a magnificent queen.

  Sullivan frowned, as though he had never considered things from her point of view before, but I understood Helene’s reasoning all too well, and I admired her for making such a tough choice. Sometimes, the only thing you could do was decide who you could hurt the least.

  “I wonder, though . . .” Helene’s voice trailed off.

  “What?” he asked.

  She studied him. “I wonder if Everleigh is more important to you than even your pride and principles are.”

  I held my breath, wondering what he would say. A muscle ticked in Sullivan’s jaw, but he remained silent.

  “Either way, we can’t change the past, only the future. I guess we’ll see how much you care about Everleigh.” Helene’s face softened. “I really did love you, Lucas, and I am truly sorry for all the pain I caused you. I never wanted you to feel like less with me. I just wanted you to be happy being yourself.”

  She stared at him a moment longer, then stepped forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Sullivan stood absolutely still, not moving a muscle. Helene dropped her head, turned around, and left the greenhouse.

  Sullivan stayed where he was, staring at the open door that she had gone through. My heart ached for him, and for Helene too. She’d been in an impossible situation, and she’d made the best choices she could, even if they had hurt Sullivan and her too.

  Paloma squeezed my shoulder, drawing my attention, and pointed to a set of stone steps on the far side of the balcony. I nodded, and she headed in that direction.

  I glanced in through the glass again, but Sullivan had vanished, and the main greenhouse door was now shut. He had left, and it was time for me to do the same, so I closed the glass door, crossed the balcony, and hurried down the steps after Paloma.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I never realized that being engaged could be so bloody exhausting.

  The rest of the week passed by in a blur of breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, and more. Now that I was engaged to Dominic, every single noble at Glitnir wanted to offer their enthusiastic congratulations and slyly propose this deal or that deal over tea and kiwi cakes. The crown prince and I attended event after tedious event, and I smiled so long and hard that I was afraid my face would become permanently fixed in the fake expression.

  The only good thing about our whirlwind schedule was that it kept Dominic close to me. I watched everyone he came into contact with, just in case Helene might be working with someone else, but no one tried to hurt Dominic.

  Helene was at many of the events, but she never did or said anything suspicious. If I hadn’t found the poisonous cactus in her greenhouse, I never would have seriously suspected her of being the traitor.

  I watched her closely, especially whenever she was near Heinrich, but she always seemed calm and cheerful, as though nothing was bothering her. I had no idea what she thought about his recovery. She had to have realized that the amethyst-eye poison was gone from his system, but Helene didn’t try to sicken the king again. It seemed as though she was biding her time, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, so I did the same. This was one long game that I was determined to win.

  Still, the more days that passed, the more I started to wonder if I was wrong about Helene. Sure, she had the cactus, but anyone could have slipped into her workshop and snipped a flower or two to brew the poison. The cactus’s pot might look similar to ones that Maeven had, but in the end, it was just a pot. And lots of people had signet rings.

  The items weren’t enough to either exonerate or convict the plant magier. But if Helene wasn’t the traitor, then who was? I didn’t have any other real suspects, which only added to my worry.

  Sullivan also attended many of the events, since he too was part of the royal family, and I often caught him staring at me, sometimes with anger, sometimes with disgust, and sometimes with longing so intense it took my breath away. But he didn’t approach me, and I didn’t seek him out. I didn’t dare, for fear of spilling my guts about my whole convoluted plan.

  But the days quickly ticked away, and all too soon it was the night of the royal ball.

  I stood in front of a full-length mirror in my chambers, staring at my reflection. Calandre had crafted a simple but exquisite gown of midnight-blue velvet with a sweetheart neckline, three-quarter sleeves, and a full, floor-length skirt. Silver thread scrolled up the sleeves and down my neckline before spreading out into a large crown-of-shards crest on my chest. More silver thread scrolled down the skirt before lining the hem. My only jewelry was the two silver bracelets—gauntlets—that Alvis had made me. The midnight-blue tearstone shards in the bracelets’ crown crests matched the color of my gown.

  Given that this was a royal ball, I had expected Calandre to insist on my wearing heels, but she had surprised me by giving me a pair of flat, blue velvet sandals with thick straps that wound up past my ankles. They reminded me of the sturdy sandals I had worn in the gladiator arena, although they too featured my crown-of-shards crest in silver thread on the closed toes.

  Camille had taken extra care with my makeup, putting smoky shadow and silver liner on my eyes and staining my lips with berry balm. Cerana had curled my hair into loose waves, but I’d refused to wear my crown.

  I expected Helene—or whoever the traitor really was—to orchestrate some sort of attack tonight, against either Dominic, Heinrich, or me, or perhaps all three of us. I wanted to be able to fight, if it came down to that, and not worry about losing my crown. Keeping my head attached to my body was much more important.

  “Calandre, you and your sisters have truly outdone yourselves,” I murmured. “I’ve never looked better.”

  She beamed at me, as did her sisters.

  I patted the sides of the dress. “And I especially like the pockets.”

  “I thought you might like to take your dagger to the ball, and I couldn’t let you wear it on that awful black leather belt. It would have completely ruined the look of the dress.” Calandre shuddered at the thought. “So pockets seemed like the perfect compromise and hiding place.”

  She was absolutely right, and my tearstone dagger was snugly tucked away in my right pocket. I just wished the dress was large enough to hide my sword too.

  I grinned. “You know me too well.”

  Calandre grinned back at me.

  A knock sounded, and Paloma stepped into
the room. She wasn’t wearing a gown, but Calandre had still made her something special. Small ogre faces done in gold thread glinted on the sleeves of her dark green tunic, and more gold thread ran in jagged, teethlike lines down her black leggings.

  Camille and Cerana had given Paloma dark, dramatic eyes and red lips and had sleeked her blond hair back into an elaborate, crownlike braid that arched across her head. The ogre on her neck had taken notice, and the blond hair that curled around the morph mark was now braided in the same pretty style.

  Paloma had grumbled about having her hair and makeup done, but she had kept sneaking glances at herself in the mirror, and I thought that deep down she—and her inner ogre—secretly loved the attention.

  Paloma studied me. “You look nice.”

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  She shrugged. “Nice is nice, isn’t it?”

  I sighed. Sometimes, I thought my friend was a little too matter-of-fact.

  Paloma grinned, as did the ogre on her neck, but the expression slowly evaporated from both their faces. “Are you ready for this?”

  She was talking about far more than the ball. Hopefully, tonight we would catch Helene in the act of conspiring against the Ripleys and end the threat to Heinrich and Dominic.

  “I thought you were going to stop asking me that,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

  She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe I will, when you finally quit doing such new, grand, and important things.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning too.

  I thanked Calandre and her sisters again and headed out into the hallway, where several Bellonan guards were waiting. Paloma stepped up beside me, and we strolled through the palace, with Calandre and her sisters trailing us, along with the guards. It didn’t take us long to reach the hallway that led to the throne room.

  The doors were wide open, and scores of nobles were already inside, talking, laughing, eating, and drinking, while servants moved all around them. The royal ball was already well under way.