“What you did was enough,” Drake said reassuringly. “Is she going to be okay?”
Bryant shook his head like he was trying to keep his growing distress in check. “We don’t know.”
“Do we know anything about the shooter and why he did this?” His father looked to Drake, wanting more answers.
“I shot him, and he didn’t make it. I did a quick check of his pockets, and there wasn’t anything there to identify him. He isn’t anyone that I recognize from the palace or city. I would have remembered hair like that.”
“I’m sure Adler is behind this,” King Carver said, fury in his voice. “Who else would do such a thing?”
50
Joniss
Wedding guests were everywhere. After the guards released them, people ran down the halls to get to their rooms. Others were in the palace courtyard, yelling at servants for a transporter to be brought around. Servants worked hard to clean up the blood. This much, Joniss had figured would happen, but what he didn’t count on was something to go wrong, which it had.
Something had gone very wrong.
Guards were positioned outside Adler’s door. As Joniss approached, both men pointed their guns directly at him.
“Step away from the door!” one of them shouted.
Joniss put his hands up in innocence. “Calm down! I’m unarmed. I just want to talk to King Adler.”
The two men looked at each other, a silent conversation between them.
“I don’t think he’ll mind. Tell him it’s Joniss Doman.”
One of the guards slowly backed up to the door and knocked. An assistant opened the door, and the guard spoke in hushed tones then the door shut again. A moment later, it was flung open.
“Search him,” the assistant barked.
Joniss laughed. “I think we both know I am not your enemy here.” But he raised his arms again, letting the guards search for weapons.
“All clear,” the guard said. Joniss pushed past the man and into Adler’s room.
Adler lay casually on his bed, legs crossed, pillows propped up around him. Nobody would have ever guessed that thirty minutes ago, Adler had been a part of a shooting.
“Can I help you?” Adler said coolly.
“What was that downstairs?” Joniss tried not to let his anger ruin the conversation.
“What do you mean?” Adler played stupid.
“Your man didn’t follow my plan.” Joniss wasn’t in the mood for any games right now.
“Your plan?” Adler finally stood. “Your plan was weak and only served your interests. You wanted me to do your dirty work for you. To kill Prince Ezra so that you could easily take the crown. I didn’t like that plan, but I did like the idea of a dramatic wedding shooting. That was good stuff.”
“Killing Ezra would have helped you. I would’ve won the election and would be your ally.” Why couldn’t Adler see that?
“I don’t need allies.” His eyes had all the confidence of an illegal arsenal behind them.
Joniss shook his head. “What was the point of targeting Princess Seran? It makes no sense.”
“It makes complete sense. Prince Ezra is not a threat. My biggest threat is New Hope and Albion joining forces. Their alliance is my biggest threat. That’s something I can’t have. Now there’s no marriage treaty. King Bryant won’t want anything to do with Albion once his daughter dies here. The alliance will be off.”
“We had a deal,” Joniss said, desperation surging in his chest.
“Yes, you gave me information, and I paid you for it,” Adler said plainly.
“You were supposed to carry out my plan in exchange for that information.”
“Didn’t I?” Adler looked around the room at his assistant and guards. “I pretended that Carver tried to kill me. I pretended to be angry about it. I had one of my men, who is dead now, stop the wedding by shooting a member of the royal family. I think I did my part.”
Joniss clenched his fists, grinding his teeth together. “My plan was to kill Ezra.”
“I don’t carry out anybody’s plans except for my own. Now, if you could leave me, I have to get ready for a long journey back to Tolsten.”
The air escaped Joniss. “I can expose you, you know.”
“No, you can’t.” Adler’s lips curled up. “Then everyone will know you and your father were the lying backstabbers behind it all. You’ll never become the king because you’ll be hanged for treason.”
He was right. Adler had backed him into a corner, and there was nothing he could do about it. The old saying was true; don’t play with fire or you’ll get burned.
51
Trev
Gaines entered the king’s office, whispering something in King Carver’s ear that made his father’s face twist downward.
Trev stood abruptly. Was there news about Seran? It had been a little over an hour since the shooting. Since then, they had taken Seran away to the medic hall and released the royal family from the safe room. Trev couldn’t stop worrying. Couldn’t stop seeing her pained face. Hearing her cry for help.
“Bring him in,” his father said to Gaines, and then he turned to the rest of the men. “Adler’s here.”
Adler walked in the room, bringing a thick tension that covered the room like fog on a winter’s night.
“I came to say goodbye and offer my condolences,” Adler said, seemingly unaffected by their accusing glares.
“Condolences? She’s not dead.” King Bryant flared red with anger.
“Of course. My apologies.” But Adler didn’t seem apologetic at all.
“Leaving so soon?” Trev hated the disgusting man.
“Can you blame me?” Adler coughed out a laugh.
“I can blame you for a lot of things,” Trev said.
Drake gave his arm a warning squeeze.
Adler raised a cocky eyebrow. “As I can blame you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” King Carver scoffed.
“Only that I believe Albion, more importantly, King Carver, is behind the shooting today.” Adler looked at King Bryant as he spoke. “It wouldn’t be the first time this week that Albion has tried to kill someone from another kingdom. I would know.”
“That’s ridiculous.” King Carver’s arms flew out in front of him as if pushing the awful truth away. “Why would I try to kill my future daughter-in-law?”
Adler shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we should ask my sister, Queen Avina, your wife.” Adler glared at him. “Oh, but she’s dead, and you killed her.”
King Carver stood, every muscle taut, his face and ears tipped with red. “You know I didn’t kill Avina. She killed herself!”
Adler spoke to Bryant. “There’s a pattern here. All of us keep sending our loved ones to Albion to make great alliances, and what happens? They die. King Carver doesn’t care about them. He didn’t care about my sister, and he certainly doesn’t care about Princess Seran. I would’ve never considered an alliance with Albion for my own daughter. I wouldn’t want Myka to die.”
Trev tensed. Adler was doing this on purpose, trying to stir up a fight between Albion and New Hope.
His father’s face was near purple with fury. “How dare you accuse us of—”
Adler interrupted. “I’m just stating the facts.”
“You did this! You’re behind the shooting, and I’m going to prove it!”
Trev and Drake stepped forward, flanking the king and holding him back. A fight now would only escalate into a war later. Maybe they were already headed for war.
The thought made Trev sick.
King Carver’s anger only seemed to satisfy Adler more. “I’m not sure how you would even prove something like that. I heard the shooter’s dead, his secrets dead with him. It’s a shame we’ll never know who was really behind it.”
“If I were you, I’d be nervous,” Trev said. “I’d be very nervous because one of these days, we’ll prove that it was you, and when we do, there will be no stopping us from turning every ki
ngdom against you.”
Adler breathed out a laugh. “Empty threats from the next boy king.”
Trev hoped it wasn’t an empty threat. He hoped that he could prove Adler’s guilt one way or another.
“Well, I must be going.” Adler looked at King Bryant. “I hope the princess makes a full recovery.” He turned to exit, stopping briefly to add, “And a word of advice? I would rethink New Hope’s so-called alliance with Albion. You can’t possibly trust your daughter with them now. I know I wouldn’t.” With that final word, King Adler left.
The clock ticked each second on, it’s rhythmic pattern the only sound in Trev’s office. He didn’t know where his father was. King Bryant was upstairs with his wife. The queen of New Hope had been hysterical, crying, and heaving uncontrollably. Her maid and a guard had to practically carry her to her room.
There were so many things running through Trev’s mind. His thoughts bounced to the ceremony, to Seran walking down the aisle, and the words Trev had almost said. He was tormented with guilt even though he thought he’d seen a glimpse of gratitude in Seran’s eyes.
Would things have been different if he hadn’t stopped the ceremony? He thought about Renna, and how glad he was that she hadn’t been in any danger.
Where was she now?
Was she with her mother, consoling her?
Thoughts of Renna sprung up fresh guilt from somewhere inside him. He shouldn’t be thinking about Renna when Seran was fighting for her life. Only a terrible person would do that.
“Your Highness?” Crosby peeked his head into his office. “The doctor is out of surgery and is going to address everyone in the royal sitting room.”
Trev prayed the entire way to the sitting room that Seran would be okay. He promised God that if he would just let Seran be okay, he would marry her and never think about Renna again.
He was the last of the family to arrive. A fire blazed in the fireplace, its glow lighting up the concerned faces on the couch. He took a seat in the open chair across from his father. Nobody spoke. They just stared at the dancing flames before them.
Doctor Von, a middle-aged man with a mustache and half-moon glasses, entered the room with Gaines. His clothes were stained with blood, and his eyes were defeated. Everyone turned to face him. He bowed before the two families nervously as if he preferred to take up as little room as possible around people.
Nobody moved as they listened to Doctor Von. “Princess Seran received a gunshot wound to the chest. When we began operating, we hoped that the bullet missed her vital organs. However, when we opened her up, we discovered the bullet had damaged part of her aorta, causing a lot of internal bleeding. We were able to locate the tear in her aorta and thought that we could stop the bleeding. We spent hours trying to repair the major artery. Her heart was under a lot of stress. Unfortunately, we didn’t fix the damage in time. She lost too much blood and didn’t survive.”
“No, that can’t be right.” King Bryant leaned forward, his expression heavy.
Doctor Von dropped his tired eyes to the floor.
“No. No.” King Bryant shook his head as Queen Mariele melted into him, sobbing. “Surely, she survived.”
The doctor met King Bryant’s tear-filled eyes. “I’m sorry. We did all that we could do.”
The agony on King Bryant’s face dragged up a suffering in Trev he had never experienced in his whole life. The regal pair, the royalty of New Hope, hugged each other in the most intimate and sorrowful way. They clung to each other for support, with fresh tears pouring down their faces. They held each other, rocking back and forth as they wept—their heartache raw and real.
Trev had to look away. It seemed too personal and too private a moment to witness. His cheeks dampened with tears as he listened to their sorrowful wailing.
Seran was dead.
The kind-hearted, intelligent, classy woman he had been engaged to was gone. How could that be? How could Trev not have protected her?
All his training and work as a soldier was for nothing. When it mattered—when Seran’s life was in danger—he hadn’t saved her. None of this would have happened if Pryer hadn’t attempted the assassination, bringing the wrath of Tolsten on Albion.
Trev couldn’t sit still any longer. His anger carried him out of the room.
Drake followed quickly behind him. “Trev? Where are you going?”
“To give Pryer a thorough beating.” He thought Drake would talk him out of it. Instead, he followed him to the commander’s room.
Trev threw open the door, startling Pryer; he almost fell out of his chair with surprise.
“Are you happy with yourself? Is this what you wanted?” Trev grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him up against the wall. Drake was at his side, ready to intervene if Trev went too far. But how far was too far with scum like Fenton Pryer? Trev didn’t know.
Pryer grabbed at Trev’s wrists in self-defense. “What’s going on?”
“She’s dead.” Trev slammed his back against the wall again. “And you’re the one who killed her.”
“I told you, I didn’t do anything!” Pryer fought back.
“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t continued with the assassination!” Trev’s hands moved from Pryer’s shirt collar to his neck, his fingers wrapping around his skin.
“I swear!” Pryer coughed between strangled breaths.
Drake’s strong hands pulled Trev away, separating him from Pryer and his neck. He gasped for air, leaning over, coughing.
“There’s no one else who could have done it. Seran’s blood is on your hands.”
“Maxwell,” Pryer said between coughs.
“What?”
“Maxwell and Joniss Doman. I told them.” Pryer straightened his body, leaning against the wall for support. “I told them that King Carver still wanted the assassination. Maxwell asked if he would go through with it without the high ruler’s approval, and I said that Carver wanted to, but had changed his mind. Joniss asked how he would have carried it out. I told Joniss about the plan. I shouldn’t have, but at the time, it seemed harmless because we had called the whole thing off.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Drake asked.
“When Adler first arrived, accusing us, I was caught off guard and angry. I focused in on the men stationed at the inn, thinking that they somehow hadn’t gotten the message to stop the plans. The king sent me immediately to find them. It wasn’t until I was on the road that I remembered my conversation with the Domans.”
Trev shook his head. “Why didn’t you say something as soon as you returned this morning?”
“I tried.” Pryer looked at him with desperate eyes. “Right before the wedding, I started to tell your father, but Gaines came in saying the ceremony was about to start. There wasn’t enough time to have the conversation.”
Trev dropped his head. He’d had suspicions about Joniss and Maxwell but hadn’t given it enough thought. Everything happening with the wedding had clouded his mind.
“Think about it,” Pryer said. “The entire assassination plan was Maxwell’s idea. He wanted to frame you and the king all along.”
Drake pointed his finger at the commander. “If you’re lying about the Domans, I will personally kill you.”
“I’m not. Besides the men who were going to carry out the assassination, Maxwell and Joniss Doman are the only other people who knew the details of the plan.”
Drake glanced at Trev. “Do you think the Domans sent their own men to kill King Adler, hoping to pin it on you and your father?”
“I don’t know,” Trev admitted. “But I’m going to find out.”
52
Renna
Preetis stepped around the front of the house as soon as the transporter pulled up in front of the farmhouse. His sleeves were rolled up, and dirt was on his hands and pants. His smile widened when Renna stepped out of the vehicle.
“Come here! Let me get you dirty with a hug.” His arms stretched out, beckoni
ng her to him. Renna gladly fell into him, savoring the familiarity of it all. “That fancy wedding over already?”
The ache in her heart flickered alive again—Preetis’s words giving it a new breath of life. “Yes.” She pulled apart from him. “They were married yesterday at noon.”
“Yesterday? How in the jimmy-dickens did you get here so fast?”
Renna busied herself with her bags, noticing Mangum’s watchful eye. “We actually left before the wedding.”
“Before the wedding?” Preetis rubbed at the stubble on his chin but didn’t say anything more. Preetis always knew when to leave a subject alone. Renna liked that about him.
“When’s the queen coming?”
“I’m not sure.” She carried a bag into the house, Mangum trailing not far behind.
“Is that my girl?” Nellie came running from the kitchen, bumping into the sides of furniture on her way. Her body slammed into Renna’s in a tight hug. “We’ve been waiting for you to come back to us.” She let go of Renna as suddenly as she had grabbed her. “Let me get you some food, child. You too, Mr. Mangum.”
They shuffled into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.
“Where’s that little maid of yours?” Nellie peeked around them. “She’s a wispy little thing. Needs some more fat on her if you ask me. Let’s get her some food too.”
“Nora didn’t come with me this time. It’s just going to be Mangum and me.”
“I won’t complain about that.” Nellie grabbed a pan and lit the stove. “How long do I get you this time before you have to go back?”
“Well,” Renna sat up a little taller, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay. Indefinitely.”
Preetis and Nellie exchanged looks. “Child, of course we don’t mind.” She gathered Renna up into another hug. “This place is yours. You belong here.”
The Promised Prince: A YA Dystopian Romance Page 30