Trev and Seran stood. Hand in hand, they smiled and nodded at the crowd applauding them until enough time had passed, and they exited the great hall together, waving like idiots.
“I’m glad that’s over,” Trev said as they walked down the hall.
Seran removed the long gloves covering her arms. “I didn’t think it was that bad. Besides, anytime we can be in the spotlight right now is good. It only helps with the election.” She sighed. “It’s all part of the job.”
Trev looked at the beautiful, intelligent woman walking beside him. “What would you do with your life if you weren’t marrying me?”
She laughed his question away. “I am marrying you, so it doesn’t really matter.”
He stopped walking. “It matters to me.”
Her steps slowed, and she looked up and down the hallway as if making sure no one else was around. “I suppose I . . . I would love to be an educator, teach history and politics.”
Trev smiled. “You would be amazing at that.”
For the first time since he had known her, Seran got embarrassed. Her cheeks reddened, and she turned away. “I would ask what you would do if you weren’t marrying me, but I think I already know the answer.”
The truth behind her words hurt. “Am I that predictable?”
Her eyes softened as she looked at him. “I guess neither of us is free to do what we want with our lives.”
He grabbed her hand. “At least we have that in common.”
“It’s a start.”
Trev leaned his body into the cement railing of his balcony. City lights shone like stars below him, radiating a soft glow into the night sky. He would have considered the moment peaceful if it weren’t for the anxious feelings inside him. The gravity of it all—Adler, Renna, Seran, the election—pulled him down.
Relentlessly sinking him.
Drowning him.
He had been dropping into this darkness for a while, desperately trying to claw his way out. It was easier when he thought he was saving Albion, saving Adler from the assassination, but now, he didn’t even have that. His grip had slipped, and he never thought he could fall so low.
47
Renna
Overnight, the palace’s great hall was transformed for the wedding ceremony. Pale yellow silk billowed across the ceiling, covering the expansive roof like an airy tent, making it seem more intimate than usual. Flower garlands were strung above, decoratively stretching across the fabric. Rows and rows of yellow chairs lined each side of the room with flowers fastened to the ends, pink ribbon dangling from the sides to the floor. Even more colorful flowers dripped from the walls, sweeping up and down like waves in the sea. The dais sat at the front of the room with large floor vases on either side, full of the most exquisite flowers Renna had ever seen. The room smelled like a garden on a chilly spring day. Everything was colorful, bright, and happy—just the way it was supposed to be.
But Renna was leaving.
Her mother’s shoes clicked on the marble as she walked in the room. “There you are.”
Renna smiled at her mother and King Bryant. “I just wanted to see the decorations before I left.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
Her mother was asking about her heart. Would her heart be okay since the man she loved was marrying someone else today?
Renna pretended her mother was referring to Wellenbreck.
“I’ll be fine. Mangum will be with me. He’ll keep me out of trouble. Won’t you, Mangum?”
Mangum stood outside the doors to the great hall. “Certainly, my lady.”
King Bryant took Renna by both hands. “Please know that you’re always welcome at the Government Center if you ever want to come back.”
“I know,” she said, not believing that she would ever want that.
“And if there is anything you need, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I won’t,” Renna said, wondering if her mother had told Bryant about her and Trev. If Bryant knew, would he still want his daughter to marry the prince? Or would he want Trev to marry her instead? She shook her head. None of that mattered because Renna knew her mother and knew that she would never tell Bryant about what had happened.
King Bryant stepped aside, so Renna’s mother had room to say goodbye. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. My nerves can’t handle it.” Her mother wrung her hands together.
“Your nerves will probably do better when I’m gone,” Renna teased.
Mariele pulled her into a hug, her heavy breathing rising and falling against Renna as she held her.
“I’m so sorry, Renna,” her mother whispered into her ear. “This is exactly like the day King Dayton sent me away to Wellenbreck Farm. I wish there was something I could do. I wish you could be with Ezra.”
Renna tightened her grip around her mother, refusing to let her see how much leaving this place, leaving Trev, was crushing her. “Nobody is sending me away. I’m choosing to go.”
Mariele took a deep breath and pulled away. “You’re right, and you’ll be better for it.”
They gave each other one last squeeze, and then Renna followed Mangum out to the waiting transporter.
“Are you ready, Miss Renna?” Mangum said, holding the door open for her.
She hesitated for just a moment, turning back for one last look. Her eyes swept over the grand palace, and the balcony she knew belonged to Trev.
There was no one there.
She took a deep breath, got inside the transporter, and didn’t look back again.
48
Joniss
Joniss watched his father put the finishing touches on to his formal wear. His father stepped in front of him, ready to go down to the waiting transporter. “This is a big day for us.”
“Very big, indeed.” Joniss felt giddy. The first part of his perfect plan had already been set in motion the day Adler had arrived. The man deserved an award for his acting skills. He almost had Joniss convinced about the assassination attempt.
Joniss gave a crooked smile as he thought out loud. “Carver and Ezra are still trying to figure out who attempted to kill King Adler.”
“I’m sure they’ll blame Commander Pryer for it.” Maxwell snickered. “He’ll be hanged for something that never even happened.”
Joniss looked at himself in the mirror one last time. “Yes, I suppose he will.” Satisfied with his appearance, they followed each other out the door.
Joniss whistled as he walked into the great hall with his father.
His eyes scanned the lavish decorations. “They sure went all out on this wedding. Didn’t they?”
“What a waste of money,” Maxwell said bitterly.
“I don’t know about that. I think the decorations will add to the drama today.”
“True. It should be rather entertaining.”
“By next week, this kingdom will look to you for their future.” His father’s voice was smug. “And in a few months, you’ll be the one sitting at that dais.”
He felt a tinge of excitement. He had been feeling that way all morning, like a kid who had been anxiously waiting for his birthday present. It was a big day. The day that would secure his future.
“I better go make the rounds,” his father said, leaving him all alone.
Across the room, Adler caught his eye. Both men nodded in silent, subtle acknowledgment of their secret plan.
49
Trev
“It’ll be over soon,” Drake said as he shifted in his chair, crossing his leg over his knee. “Then you can go back to how things were before.”
Trev sat quietly, unmoving.
A hard knock at the door shattered the silence.
Drake stood to answer it. “It must be time to go down.”
Crosby rushed into the room. “Your Highness, Commander Pryer is back. He just arrived in the training hall.”
Trev jumped to his feet, anxious for answers about Adler. “We need to interrogate him.”
Dra
ke stopped him before he could leave the room. “You can’t go now. The ceremony is starting any minute.”
Drake was right, but still, Trev felt desperate. “I need to question him and the other men from the hotel. It can’t wait!”
“I’m afraid there aren’t any men from the hotel with him,” Crosby said. “All the other men that were involved are dead.”
Trev and Drake exchanged looks. “That’s convenient. So there’s nobody left to rat him out for his betrayal.” Trev’s words were laced with anger.
“We don’t know that,” Drake said, trying to calm him down. “Adler’s men could have killed them all.”
“Oh, come on! Pryer is behind all of this with Adler. This is just further proof of his guilt. I just don’t know what part my father played in it as well.” He shook his head in frustration.
“Your Highness? It’s time.” Gaines waited by the door, expectantly.
Drake placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll deal with Fenton Pryer after the ceremony. Let’s get through the next hour, and then we can make a plan.”
Trev nodded. Everything was converging all at once. He smoothed his black tie and tugged on the jacket of his black, fitted suit. Drake handed him his gold crown. The last time he wore it, he’d held Renna in his arms. Trev swallowed, trying not to think about her and that night. There was nothing he could do but follow Gaines out of the room.
From his place on the dais, Trev could see everyone seated in the aisles, all of them counting on him. Everyone but Renna, he noticed. He scanned the faces for hers but came up with nothing.
King Carver stood next to Trev in the middle. As the ruling king, he would be the one performing the marriage ceremony.
“Did you hear Pryer was back?” his father leaned over and whispered while they waited.
“Alone. Everyone that could testify of Pryer’s guilt is dead.”
“Oh, get over it!” His father’s voice was hushed but stern. “So what if Pryer did this? I wanted him to do it. If you hadn’t intervened, Adler would probably be dead now, and we wouldn’t have to worry. You’ve ruined everything. This is your fault.”
No matter what Trev did, nothing was good enough for his father. Even now, he stood ready to marry the woman his father had chosen, to shackle his life to unhappiness, and his father still found a way to be disappointed in him.
A musician started playing the harp softly. The crowd stood and quieted as they turned. At the top of the grand staircase, Seran and King Bryant magically appeared. She wore a tasteful, sleek, white gown with a glittering tiara on her head, while the king wore a navy suit with purple and yellow ropes draped around his neck, signifying the kingdom of New Hope. Cellos and violins joined the harp, adding to the beautiful sound as they began to descend the stairs, Seran’s white train blanketing the steps behind her.
Trev’s heart raced, but not in a good way. He wiped at the sweat forming above his brow. His eyes scanned the crowd again. All heads were turned to the stunning bride, but one. Queen Mariele glanced at him, sadness written across her face. Trev’s eyes questioned her. Where was Renna?
She shook her head slightly.
She wasn’t there.
The music seemed to pick up intensity, matching his feelings inside. Seran was at the beginning of the aisle now, a mere sixty feet from Trev. He had sixty feet to make up his mind.
Fifty-nine.
Fifty-eight.
He wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his pants, sucked in all the air around him, and pushed it back out again. His heart continued to thump to the rhythm of the music. It was like the orchestra couldn’t keep up with its furious beats. He looked at the ground, weighing the consequences in his mind. He dared to look at Seran, who had somehow made it to the dais by his side. His father already thought he had ruined everything. At this point, what did it matter if Trev ruined the alliance too?
Then Seran’s own words played back in his head.
Neither of us is free to do what we want with our lives.
What did he want to do with his life?
He pictured growing old with Renna. That’s what he wanted to do with his life.
He loved Renna.
He always would.
The music stopped. Everyone took their seats, and his father opened his mouth to speak.
“There’s something I’d like to say.” Trev’s voice sounded loud against the silence. He took Seran by the hands and whispered so only she could hear. “I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday, but I want to set you free. Set us both free.”
Her eyes filled up with tears, but not the angry kind he’d been expecting. She looked more relieved than anything.
He quickly glanced at his father who tried to warn him through panic-stricken eyes. He glanced at Drake who didn’t seem surprised. He looked at Queen Mariele, tears streaming down her face, and the confused King Bryant next to her.
“Before we start, I just wanted to say . . .”
Trev turned his body to the audience, letting go of one of Seran’s hands. They all looked stunned, waiting on the edge of their seats for the next words out of his mouth. He tried to gather his thoughts, but something caught his eye. A small movement in between the stillness of the statue-like people. The kind of movement that a trained soldier would notice. But what he couldn’t understand, what he couldn’t register fast enough, was the gun in the hand of the man with white and black hair. Or why the gun was pointed directly at Seran.
Trev lunged, throwing his body in front of Seran’s as shots blasted off. A bullet stung his arm instantly as he and Seran tumbled to the ground. There seemed to be a lot of blood. And screaming from all the guests.
There was a lot of screaming.
He wrangled his body on top of Seran’s to protect her. Another round of shots broke out while guards surrounded them, dragging King Carver away, pulling at him and Seran.
“Ez . . . ra . . .” Seran choked from underneath him.
Trev lifted his body enough to see the crimson blood spilling out of her chest.
He tried to stem the wound with his hand, her blood spilling between his fingers. “Help us!”
“Ez . . .” Her frightened eyes looked at him to save her.
Strong arms tried to lift his body away.
“She’s hurt!” he yelled.
More men came and pulled him off her, filling the wound with their hands, dragging him away from her.
Amidst the chaos, he remembered the man with the white and black hair.
“The shooter! Get the shooter!” Trev tried to twist his body back around to see, but they continued to yank him toward the exit.
“Officer Vestry has him,” a guard spoke through breathless pants.
They turned a corner, leaving the pandemonium of the great hall behind. The men ahead of him rushed down the hall with Seran’s seemingly lifeless body—her white train, dyed a crimson red, trailing behind them. Farther ahead, his father, King Bryant, and Queen Mariele ran, surrounded by a group of guards tugging at their arms to keep them moving.
“You’ve been hit,” the guard said as they burst through the door of the closest safe room.
“I’m fine! Help the princess!” Trev’s voice was loud, matching the yells of everyone else in the room.
He tried to get to where they had lain her body on a table, but there were guards everywhere surrounding her.
The guard who dragged him there pushed him back, away from Seran. “We need to look at your arm.”
Trev yelled at him, “Let me help her!” He covered his wound with his other hand.
“There’s nothing you can do for her right now.” The guard tried to reason with him as he pushed him down into a chair and pulled off Trev’s suit jacket. He rolled his sleeve up to look at the wound. “It’s clear. The bullet nicked the side of your arm and went clean out,” he said, ripping his shirt fabric and tying it around Trev’s arm.
Clean out and into Seran’s chest.
The shock started to set
in as the crowd of people worked furiously around Seran, cutting her dress, trying to reach where the bullet had entered.
The palace doctors appeared with a new team of people to help. Queen Mariele cried into King Bryant’s shoulder, who seemed crippled by his daughter’s injuries. King Carver paced nearby, emphatically giving orders to his guards.
“We need to get her to the medic hall!” One of the doctors shouted above the commotion.
“Is it safe to move her?” King Bryant asked, putting his hand to his chest.
“We have no choice. She’ll die here if we don’t operate.” The doctor didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he shouted instructions for how they were going to move her to the medic room.
Trev stood abruptly to follow but was stopped by one of the medics. “We have to see to your arm.” The fabric the guard had tied around his arm was already stained with blood.
Trev reluctantly sat down again. A dull pain ached through his arm with each thread of the medic’s needle. He couldn’t get over the fact that the bullet that had gone through his arm was now lodged somewhere in Seran’s chest.
“Is everyone okay?” Drake asked, entering the room in haste.
King Bryant’s voice was solemn. “They just took Seran to the medic hall. She needs surgery.”
Queen Mariele let out a yelp before burying her head into the king’s chest once again.
“What’s going on out there?” King Carver’s voice was panicked. He didn’t even try to act concerned for Seran.
Drake put his hands up in front of everyone as if attempting to calm them down. “I took down the shooter. The other guards have the hall surrounded, and everyone is being questioned.” He looked at Trev. “If you hadn’t noticed the shooter first, I wouldn’t have known where the shots were coming from. I saw you look at him before you jumped in front of Seran.”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Trev stammered. “I didn’t have my gun on me.” His stomach dropped, thinking back to that moment. Why would he think to put a gun in his boot on his wedding day?
The Promised Prince: A YA Dystopian Romance Page 29