by Peak, Renna
Perhaps she was injured, I think, though it doesn’t make much sense to me. She appears to be inconsolable, screaming and crying.
Before I realize what’s happening, I feel as though I’m falling backward from the bench. There are people around me, all of them speaking, though I can’t understand what any of them are saying.
There’s a flash of darkness—I must have closed my eyes for a moment, and when I open them, Andrew is kneeling beside me.
How did I come to be lying on the ground?
My eldest brother is shouting—I can see it in his demeanor, but nothing makes any sense. It all seems to be chaos, people running to and fro.
And Clara—where is Clara?
I crane my neck, trying to see around my brother.
“Hold still, Nicholas.” Andrew’s are the first words that have cut through the noise around me.
“What…?” My voice sounds like a frog’s croak. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense. “Clara…”
“Is fine.” Andrew glances over his shoulder then back at me. “Leopold will see that she gets back to the manor.”
“I…will…” I cannot understand why it is that it’s so difficult to speak. There is certainly a pain in my side—and all hell seems to have broken loose around me—but other than that, I feel fine. Certainly I should be able to speak.
“You will do nothing of the sort.” Andrew’s brow is furrowed, and he says something to someone near my feet before he motions to another someone at my side.
“I…” My croak has turned to more of a groan, and I realize that my world is becoming smaller and smaller as my vision narrows to a pinpoint.
“What…happened…?” I manage to say.
“You were stabbed,” Andrew’s voice seems so far away—too far away.
And then everything turns to black.
Clara
“Why the hell can’t I see him?” I demand. “He’s my fiancé!”
The pair of Royal Guards in front of the door exchange uncertain glances, but when they look back at me, the determination has returned to their eyes.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” says the one on the left. “We’re under strict orders to let no one inside.”
“Fuck your orders! I want to see him!”
It’s been two hours since the incident. Two hours of waiting and wondering, two hours of absolute torture. Physicians have been running in and out of the room where they’re keeping him, but no one will tell me how he is or what’s happening. And no one will let me even see him.
“Please,” I say to the guards, lowering my voice. “Please let me see him. Just so I know he’s all right. Please.” I’m not above begging, especially where Nick is concerned.
And especially when it’s my fault he’s in this situation in the first place.
That’s the only thought that manages to make it through the cloud of worry, over and over again—that this is my fault. That if I hadn’t turned Adam into this monster, he never would have done this. That if I hadn’t convinced Nick that this was the only way to end things, he wouldn’t be bleeding to death in the next room.
“Please,” I beg again, and I don’t have to fake the tears in my eyes. “I’ll do anything to see him, just for a minute.”
But the guards show no sign of budging. I’m trying to decide which one is physically weaker—or at least which one would be more susceptible to a swift kick to the groin—when someone comes up behind me and lays hand on my shoulder.
It’s Leopold.
“Come on,” he says gently to me. “They’ll let us know when there’s news.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
Sympathy shines in Leo’s eyes. “I’m just suggesting we go sit in the parlor over here. I’ve already asked them to send up some tea. We’re not helping anything by being in the way.”
As much as I hate to admit it, he makes a good point. I allow him to steer me to the parlor across the hall, but not before giving the guards one final glare.
When we step into the parlor, a servant is already setting up the tea service. I let Leo usher me toward a chair.
“Why won’t they tell me what’s going on?” I ask him. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything?”
Leo sighs and sinks into the chair across from mine. “I don’t know much either, unfortunately. The only ones allowed anywhere near him are my parents, and it’s on my father’s orders that they’re keeping everyone else away. They wouldn’t even let Elle near him, and she’s a bloody doctor.” He props his elbows on his knees, his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Clara.”
“What are you apologizing for? You’re not the one keeping me away from him.” I swear, the next time I see His Majesty, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind for keeping me away from Nick.
“Not for that. For him getting hurt in the first place.” He rubs the side of his face. “This is all my fault.”
I blink at him. “How can you even think that?”
“Because it was my bloody plan,” he points out. “Nick didn’t even want to do it.”
“He wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t agreed.” Guilt continues to boil in my stomach. “And Adam is my ex-fiancé. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”
Leo sighs again. “I still can’t believe it. The bastard disguised himself as a bloody guard! We should have anticipated something like that, but fuck, I didn’t think he was that smart.” He reaches for the teapot, then stops himself. “I should have known he was that smart. He bloody escaped from prison and has managed to avoid recapture ever since. The bastard’s brilliant.”
“And desperate.” Enough to attempt to murder Nick. God, if anything happens to Nick, if he doesn’t pull through…
“Father’s going to have my hide,” Leo goes on. “And I’m not even going to fight it. I deserve whatever punishment he delivers.”
He looks so distraught, so utterly anguished. For the first time, it really hits me that I’m not the only one currently suffering. I haven’t seen the rest of the family since the attack—not that I remember, anyway, since I have to admit it’s been kind of a blur—but I imagine they’re all just as upset as I am.
That just makes me feel even worse.
Despite what Leo thinks, this is my fault. And if it’s my fault, then that means it’s my responsibility to fix it.
But how? I’m not strong enough to capture Adam on my own, and even if I was willing to use myself as bait again, I doubt I could convince the guards to lay another trap after this one went so badly. So where does that leave me?
As far as I can tell, Adam wants two things: to help me “escape,” and to punish Nick for what he thinks he’s done. I refuse to let him hurt Nick again—or even get the chance to try. But maybe there’s something I can do about his other desire.
I stand. Leo looks up at me.
“They’ll come get us when there’s news,” he says gently. “Here, have some tea.”
“Actually, I think I need to walk for a little bit. Clear my head.”
He opens his mouth as if to argue, but fortunately, I’m rescued by the arrival of his wife. Elle looks as worried as everyone else I’ve seen, but judging by the way she gazes at her husband, I suspect a huge part of her concern is for Leo and his current emotional state. She sweeps over to his side, crouching down beside him. The love in her eyes for him makes my stomach twist and turn on itself. Will Nick ever see me look at him like that again?
I’m able to slip out of the room without either of them trying to stop me. I walk right past the guarded room where Nick is being tended to and continue down the hallway, deep in thought.
As much as I hate to admit it, there might only be one way out of this. Only one way to protect Nick and the rest of his family. Of course, it means I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life…but that might be a small price to pay, all things considered. I’ll be more miserable if Adam hurts Nick again. Or if Nick doesn’t manage to pull through…
I shake my head, refusing to entertain tho
ughts of Nick dying. I need to be strong. It’s the only way.
When I reach the closest door leading outside, though, I find it watched by another pair of guards. They eye me warily as I approach.
I raise my chin, pretending I have every right to be here. “I’d like to go outside. Please step aside.”
The closer guard shakes his head. “I’m sorry, my lady. No one is to enter or leave the manor. His Majesty’s orders.”
My brain fumbles for a lie, for some reason I should be an exception to the rule, but after two hours of panic and worry, my mind is too slow to come up with anything. Once again, I debate the merits of kneeing them between the legs, but when I glance out the window beside the door, I see four more guards standing just outside. There’s no way I can make it past six men.
Trying not to show my frustration, I continue down the hallway. There are over a dozen entrances to the manor. Surely they can’t be guarding all of them. Maybe there’s a servants’ door they’ve forgotten about or something.
But as I go from door to door, I find the same situation at each one. At least six guards—sometimes more—protect every way in or out of the manor. There are even a few standing next to the larger windows, as if they’re afraid someone might throw themselves through the glass.
I’m trapped here. How am I ever going to get to Adam if I can’t even get out of the damn manor?
Finally, defeated, I drag myself back toward the parlor where Leo and Elle are waiting for news. Somehow, I’m going to figure out how to end this. I have to.
Nicholas
The people surrounding me are fools—why won’t they listen to me?
My mother sits in the corner of the room, her eyes red and swollen. Even my father appears worse for the wear—he goes from sitting beside my mother, gripping her hand, to directing the people around me.
I’ve tried numerous times to ask for Clara’s presence, but my requests fall upon deaf ears. Either I’m not actually speaking or things are direr than I thought.
My brother Andrew finally appears at the door.
“Brother,” I say. Or at least, I think I say the word.
He’s beside me in an instant, and my father comes to stand next to him.
Andrew looks at my father, and then down at me. “We’re attempting to arrange a helicopter back to the capital.”
Finally, someone is speaking to me instead of about me. It’s almost been as though I’m not actually here—or perhaps they don’t think I’m aware.
“This is taking far too long,” my father says. “I cannot believe—”
“Apparently there was a car accident on the highway shortly before this…incident. The lone helicopter in Wintervale Town is already in use—”
“Then we should call another.” My father looks down at me, his brow furrowed. “How long could it possibly take to have the palace helicopter readied and brought here? We could have had him driven back to the palace in the time it’s taken.”
“Agreed.” Andrew looks down at me again, and this time, it’s clear he doesn’t believe I am awake. “How is he doing?”
“He’s been unconscious since they brought him inside. Has there been any news of this criminal? If he’s stolen a uniform from one of my Guard, I’ll have the bastard hanged.”
Adam stole a uniform? That is how he managed to get to me?
Clara… Did he get to Clara?
“What were they even doing in the gardens?” My father shakes his head before taking my hand in his. “Of all the idiotic things you might have done, Nicholas…”
“Now isn’t the time, Father.” Andrew looks down at me again, the pity in his expression quite clear.
“He’s lost a great deal of blood, they tell me.” My father lets out a long breath. “We need to get him home.”
I have? I don’t understand why they can’t see that I’m fully awake—that I can hear every word they are saying. But it’s as though I’m some sort of ghost, or perhaps my soul has already left my body.
But that would mean I’m already dead. And I certainly don’t feel dead.
“Clara,” I try to say. “I need to see her. She’s going to do something rash. You don’t understand.”
“Certainly one of us must match his blood type.” Andrew motions for one of the physicians milling about, and the two of them walk over to the corner and out of my earshot.
My mother comes to stand beside my father. “We can’t lose him, Edmund. I won’t have it.” She looks down at me. “Do you hear me, Nicholas? I won’t have it.”
“I’ve no intention of going anywhere, Mother,” I think I say, but judging by the lack of reaction, my words don’t leave my mouth.
“We’ll get him back to the capital. We have the finest surgeons in the world there.” He takes my mother’s hand in his, lifting it to his lips. “I’ll do everything in my power.”
My mother merely nods, and tears fill her eyes.
What the hell is going on here? Why is no one able to hear me—or even to see that I can hear them?
Andrew returns to my bedside, opposite our parents. “The helicopter is on its way. It should be here within fifteen minutes, they say.
My mother nods and sniffles, and my father kisses her hand again.
“I want that madman caught.” My father glares across my bed at my brother. “Caught and hanged.”
Andrew gives him a grim nod. “The Guard are doing everything they can—”
“Have them do more. Triple the presence here until he’s apprehended.”
“I will, Father.” Andrew lets out a breath. “His fiancée wants to see him. She’s apparently been pacing the halls.” He looks down at me, and then back up at our father. “I think—”
“I think that young woman has done enough damage, don’t you?” He frowns down at me. “What could you have been thinking, allowing her to put you up to such a stunt?”
“To be fair, Father, it wasn’t entirely her idea…” Andrew’s voice trails off. “It…it was mine. I convinced the two of them that if they were to go out in the open, it might bring this former lover of hers out, too.”
My father shakes his head slowly, obviously doubtful about my eldest brother taking the blame.
In all honesty, I can’t believe he’s taking responsibility, either. It was my decision to go forward with this plan—if I had held my ground, none of this would have happened.
“We should let Clara see him. We…we don’t know what will happen after he’s taken from here—”
“That woman will be taken directly back to her home, wherever that might be.” My father’s tone says there won’t be any further discussion about it.
But what about what I want? Clara needs to know that I’m all right—that this wasn’t a fatal blow. I’m not even sure what it is that’s happened, only that I was stabbed. I honestly couldn’t even say where—I certainly don’t feel any pain.
That’s it, I finally realize. They must have given me pain medication—something that is making me feel as though I’m not really in my body.
It takes every bit of will I have, but I force myself to lift my head.
The action seems to startle everyone—my mother nearly jumps from her skin.
“Clara,” I croak. “I need to see her.”
My father lifts a single brow, frowning down at me. “Not now, my son.”
Andrew’s eyebrows draw together. “Father—”
“I said not now.” My father’s tone is clipped. “There will be time for the two of you to speak later. After you’ve been examined by one of the palace physicians.”
“Clara…” I say again. It’s so difficult to speak, even a single word. It takes every bit of energy I have to try to tell them why I need to see her now. “She…she’ll do something stupid.” Why can’t they understand? If Adam truly wants me dead, Clara will try to sacrifice herself by going to him.
And I would do the same for her.
Andrew looks down at me for a long moment. “I think he
might be right. We…we should let her see him.”
“Let her go.” My father frowns down at me. “Perhaps it is for the best if she does go back with him—”
“Father!” The warning in Andrew’s voice seems to surprise everyone in the room.
My father lets out a huff. “Fine.” He motions to one of the guards at the door, and he runs to the end of my bed. “See that the young woman is brought here at once.” He lifts a brow at Andrew. “So that she doesn’t do anything stupid.”
Clara
I’m nearly back to the parlor where I left Leo and Elle when a member of the Royal Guard comes running up to me.
“Ms. Weaver,” he says gruffly, his eyes looking surprised beneath his bushy brows. “I was just sent to fetch you. I’m to take you to His Highness at once.”
He doesn’t have to say any more than that. I run the rest of the way to the room where they’re keeping Nick. There’s only one guard at the door now, and he lets me inside without a fight. I practically throw myself into the room.
My eyes find him immediately. There are at least a dozen other people in the room—the king and queen, Prince Andrew, medical staff and guards—but I only have eyes for Nick. I dart over to his side and grab his hand, and no one tries to stop me.
“Nick,” I say gently. “Nick, I’m here.”
His eyes peel open. He looks up at me, his relief plain on his face.
“Thank God,” he murmurs. His voice is raspy. “I was worried about you.”
“You were worried about me?” I almost laugh at the thought. “I’ve been beside myself, Nick. They wouldn’t let me see you.”
There’s a slightly glazed look in his eyes, but his sharp intelligence shines through. “You’re dangerous when you’re desperate, Clara. I was sure you were planning something…” He fumbles for the word. “Drastic.”
Guilt pangs in my stomach. He’s frightfully close to the truth.
But I force myself to laugh. “Where would you get a crazy idea like that?” I lean closer, using my free hand to brush the damp hair back from his temples. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on getting better. I’m counting on you to dance with me at the ball, you know.”