Long Live Queen Perry: Contemporary Reverse Harem (Kingdom of Veronia Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  George nodded at the insights Edward provided. “It would make more sense if their approach was political. That’s the only way they’re ever going to have a say, if they gain approval via Parliament.”

  Xavier frowned. “Go on.”

  “But they haven’t done that, have they? Even though they could have done—they obviously knew Luc De Montfort, our last Prime Minister. They could have gone legit, but instead they’ve turned extremist. Far worse than anything they’ve ever done before. It’s turned personal.”

  Stillness overcame them at the rightness of George’s words. “They’re not helping themselves, they’re trying to hurt us,” Edward whispered.

  “I don’t disagree, but why?” Xavier tried to put the pieces together; he could think clinically, but strategy wasn’t one of his talents.

  George looked at him. “We’ve pissed a lot of people off, Xavier. You know that.”

  “I do, but dammit, enough to murder Marianne? Not even to… I don’t know. Fucking poison her in her sleep, dammit. There’s rage here. Real hurt. And Marianne never hurt a fly. She was cold and could be harsh, but never intentionally malicious.”

  The leather creaked as Edward tilted his head to the side. “Why do you say that?”

  “About her being malicious? Dammit, Ed, I know she could be a bit of a cold fish but…”

  “No, not that,” Edward snapped. “I mean, why do you say murder Marianne, not father first? He’s the real power. The King always is. Father could rule without Mother at his side. But she couldn’t legally rule without him; I’d inherit.”

  Xavier shot him a look. “The shooter hit Marianne first, then aimed for Philippe. In that situation, a sniper isn’t going to waste time. It’s highly unlikely he’s going to shoot anyone not his target, because in the chaotic aftermath, he might not get the chance for a second shot.” The words stuck in his craw. It was hard to think he was talking about his tanta, who, only months before, had been pestering him to attend more royal functions, to be more active in his ducal role.

  Now, that self-same woman who had been stalwart throughout his life, who’d held his hand at both his parents’ funerals, was dead, too. Sharing the same crypt as Xavier’s father and mother.

  George closed his eyes at Xavier’s words, and he couldn’t blame him. This wasn’t theory or just talk. This was real. This was life and death.

  Edward whispered, “Mother was likely the target, then. You’re right. How did I not realize that?”

  “But why?” George demanded. “Father loved her, for God’s sake, we all did, but why murder her? She was the one who was more active in the poorer neighborhoods. For all that she wasn’t the height of popularity, you know as well as I do that she made herself known in the areas of unrest. A lot of people there respected her. She was dogged in making sure they had more than their fair share of Royal visits and funding from her and father’s special projects.”

  Xavier knew his cousin wasn’t wrong, and yet… “She came to visit me a month or so before the wedding.”

  George cocked a brow. “So?”

  “You know, before that, she never came to the estate. I always attended her in Masonbrook. It was the day you both came to visit. Murielle Harlington had reprimanded you for kissing in the hallway or some nonsense like that.”

  Edward blinked. “I remember. There was tea for her waiting in the Chinese Lily Room.”

  “Yes. Exactly. We never got around to drinking it. She didn’t want to… she wasn’t there for tea and biscuits. She wanted to ask me some questions. Said that Philippe had been acting oddly and wanted answers.”

  “You and I both know he kept her in the dark more than he should,” Edward murmured drily, but there was bleak despondency in his gaze; Xavier could tell he was feeling guilty about maintaining secrets from Perry too. Though Xavier knew, point blank, he’d promised their woman he’d be open.

  “I do, but this was different. She wondered if he was having an affair.”

  George stiffened. “What?”

  “You heard me,” Xavier groused, and though he knew it was childish, didn’t want to repeat the words.

  “Mother thought Father was cheating on her?” George demanded, half-turning in his seat to stare Xavier down.

  He held up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger. She came to me because she knew I wouldn’t bullshit her. Said you two never saw anything wrong in what your father did or said.”

  “She felt that way?” George whispered, his voice croaky, and Xavier knew his younger cousin was on the brink of tears.

  It was hard not to feel like they’d all let Marianne down.

  “Yes,” Xavier admitted. “She indicated that Philippe had had several mistresses over the years, but he kept promising her he wouldn’t do it again.” Anger throbbed throughout the limo, but Xavier knew this was important; he wasn’t sure how, but this train of thought felt right. “That isn’t my point though. She said something that stuck with me. Something like, ‘Both of us have made wrongs.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means she cheated on Father too,” Edward said, and Xavier noticed his gaze shifted away from them and onto the road outside the car.

  “You think that has something to do with this?”

  Xavier shrugged, uncertain how to answer George. “I don’t know. But if someone hated Marianne, maybe it’s one of Philippe’s lovers. Or maybe whoever was with your mother didn’t appreciate being scorned?”

  “That’s a huge leap.” George looked uneasy.

  “It’s all a leap at the moment,” Xavier countered. “I just… I don’t know, guys. The way she was that day, when she said what she did—she felt guilty. And not just about any affairs she’d had. I could see it on her face. Something wasn’t right.”

  “That might have nothing to do with the assassination.”

  Edward said, “Maybe not, but perhaps we should dig deeper into Mother and Father’s pasts to see if there’s a reason why they wanted her dead.”

  “But then, they just targeted Perry, too,” Xavier said uneasily, his belief shaken now.

  “No,” George murmured slowly. “It’s like I said. It feels like there are two different motives here. There was a different reason for that than from what happened to Mother.”

  “How do you know?”

  George cut him a look, but his jaw was clenched, and his features were riddled with obstinacy. “You think Mother felt guilty about something because of an instinct, and you trusted that. Don’t question my instincts either.”

  “It’s supposition until we get Drake involved,” Edward murmured, and Xavier knew he was trying to be conciliatory, but in the end, he didn’t have to bother. Because in the time it had taken for them to come up with a conspiracy theory that may or may not hold merit, the hospital had appeared ahead of them, and soon, they’d see just if…

  Xavier couldn’t even handle the thought.

  Chapter Six

  “I’m okay, I’m okay!” she blurted the words out the second the doors opened. Perry knew who it would be, just like she knew this entire incident was her own fault. God, they must have been terrified.

  When they heard her voice, Xavier slumped against the wall beside the door, and George and Edward halted on their way over to her; the relief on their faces hitting her hard.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, lifting a hand to cover her face. Her fingers trembled and her nails scraped across the tender flesh of her eyelids. The pain felt good, and that disturbed her. It was her guilt talking, of course. She wasn’t too far gone to realize that.

  A hand reached out, grabbed a tight hold of her wrist, and gently pulled hers away so she could no longer hide. It came as no surprise to see that it was George. “Hey, what’s all this?”

  A stark voice sounded from the corner, and she glowered at Drake, who was standing there like the Grim Reaper. “She broke protocol.”

  One thing Perry had learned over the last six months was how importan
t protocol was to these guys. It was a watchword, their fucking religion. They seemed to live and die by it, and today she had her lesson as to why.

  Somebody had died because of her, because she hadn’t followed the rules, had decided to make up her own…when everybody in this room had been doing this for far longer than she had, she’d had to blaze out like she was the ‘big I am’.

  “Why the hell didn’t you inform us that she was awake?” Edward half-growled at Drake. His hand clasped her calf, and she noticed he wasn’t coming closer. Only George was at her side. Xavier hadn’t moved from the doorway, and her husband was somehow near and yet far away.

  “I only just got here myself. There was a mix-up in the panic—the panic her Highness instigated by not following the rules.”

  “Rules are there for a reason,” Edward conceded. “However, it’s in the security detail’s remit to assess individual situations and to allow us some personal freedom.”

  “The need for personal freedom lost me a good man today, your Highness,” Drake half-snarled. “And I have another one in surgery, all because her Highness decided to go walk about.”

  Perry winced, agony spearing through her. “I didn’t realize —”

  “No, why would you?” Drake shook his head. “That’s our job. That’s why we’re here. We know best, even if it’s irritating.”

  “I didn’t greet the crowd to be irritating. I did it because they were there for me. They were supporting me, us. It would have been…” Her words waned with her energy.

  What was the point in discussing this? Her actions had caused a man’s death.

  How had it come to that? Why did her life feel like it suddenly belonged in a James Patterson novel?

  Edward’s grip on her calf tightened. “Will somebody explain what the fuck happened today?”

  “Perry was opening a rehabilitation center,” Drake inserted.

  “I know that. Just, I need details.” His gaze narrowed. “More than simply her location—which I already knew.”

  Perry, even though her heart was still fluttering like a bird in her chest, and her ribs were aching like a bitch, found herself surprised by that small tidbit of information. He knew her schedule?

  Did that mean she should know his?

  Ugh, just what she needed right now. Another, inadvertent, guilt trip. Cue sigh.

  “We expected a small crowd—then news hit the numbers could be double our expectations. Nobody expected it to be as large as it was. The fact that the rehab center is in the middle of a goddamn field certainly lowered our expectations.

  “When I received word that close to ten thousand people were there, I instructed Jasper to divert his route. Her Highness was supposed to exit the vehicle, head for the doors, wave, and do her duty. But upon arrival, she headed toward the crowd. From what I’ve managed to discern, she was engaged for close to an hour, and upon her return to the entrance, shots were fired.”

  The precise recounting had Perry flinching. God, if she could go back, she would. Had she really been with the crowd for an hour? Had she given the bastards targeting her all that time to set up…?

  But no. Even though she may have made things easier for them, assassination attempts didn’t just happen on a whim. They had to be plotted, surely?

  It didn’t take the guilt away from her. A man had died because he’d been protecting her, defending her life, and she had facilitated that by being out in the open for as long as she had. And yet…there were so many questions. There had to have been several clear shots during that hour, multiple occasions where somebody could have fired at her and hit their target. But they’d waited until the last minute, when she’d been surrounded by her guards once more.

  Two had followed her, traipsing along behind her as she greeted the public. The majority of the team had stood back, clustered along the walkway, on the hunt for any signs of suspicious activity.

  Upon her approach to the door, they’d followed. The shooter had waited for that. Had waited for her to be near her team.

  At her side, George was almost vibrating with tension. She could feel his need to touch her as though a ghost hand was skimming over her face, tilting her head at just the right angle for his kiss. She shot him a look, and found the longing building in her mirrored in his eyes—but this wasn’t about sex, just a need to connect. She sucked in a shuddery breath, then focused her attention on Edward, who was glaring at Drake.

  “What happened after the shots were fired?”

  “Edward,” Xavier interrupted, “I’m sure Perry doesn’t need to hear this.”

  Her husband’s jaw clenched and she watched him fight his temper. She hadn’t known him long, granted, but she knew him well. She knew him soul-deep. And for all that, she’d never seen the kind of anger he was fighting to contain. Neither had she expected it.

  His rage would be like headbutting a wall.

  There was no way Drake was coming out of this intact. Not without having a verbal altercation with a very pissed-off King.

  More guilt flooded her, but she didn’t have it in her to feel all that much. It was too draining. Truth was, the adrenaline high was wearing off, and her chest was aching after being used as a human pillow by her downed guards. Breathing hurt, never mind anything fancy like moving.

  “Let’s take this outside then,” Edward said grimly. He stared pointedly at Drake, who reluctantly shifted away from the wall.

  Perry, in different circumstances, would have been amused by his hangdog expression, but evidently something was very, very wrong with her security—hell, their security—if a shooter had been able to gain access to her on her first damn visit.

  She bit her lip to stop herself from sending him a sympathetic look. Edward needed to burn off his temper, and though she’d have been willing to take the brunt of it to spare Drake, their head of security wasn’t doing that good a job, was he? Not if two of the last three major royal events had involved a deadly shooting.

  It was just…

  How could she say “lucky” when a man was lying in a morgue somewhere? Very likely in this damn hospital. But she hadn’t been shot out of sheer good fortune; the sniper had missed his target—her. She was only dealing with the bruises and the sore tightness of her ribs after being crushed by her guards.

  She shuddered, watching as the two men headed out of her private ward. Edward’s gait was strong, sure, but throbbing with the energy he was trying to contain. Drake’s was slow, uncertain. He knew what was coming; they all did.

  Drake’s next words would be the only difference between him remaining as the head of their security and being fired.

  The door closed with a succinct bang, and she twitched. It was nothing like a gunshot, nothing like it at all, but since she’d woken up, sharp noises had been making her jump.

  She felt like such a wimp, but she’d never been so much as mugged, never mind been the focus of an attempted assassination.

  Gulping, she tried to swallow back her nerves, but found her hand was taken by two of George’s. “We thought you were…” His words broke off, and the agony couched in them speared her to the quick.

  With her free fingers, she clutched at one of the flaps of his sports jacket and dragged him closer.

  It was a private ward, with not even a window for them to spy on Edward and Drake—or for anyone to spy on them, but she didn’t dare ask him to hold her. The only person with that right, in a public setting, was on the other side of that door, and that was way too far away.

  Reaction was very close to setting in, but she had to hold it together until Edward was back.

  This second assassination attempt might have been an effort to derail the Crown, but she wouldn’t be the hangman’s noose to the DeSauviers by revealing the truth of her relationship with the highest-ranking men in the country.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with his for forgiveness.

  “What happened? Why are you here if you weren’t shot?”

  Xavie
r’s words were throaty, and when she turned to look at him saw that he couldn’t stand still. He was as twitchy as she was, and deep down, Perry knew it was because he was trying to stop himself from approaching her.

  It was then she knew she was doing the right thing in waiting for Edward’s embrace.

  Exhaling roughly, she whispered, “When the shots were fired—” She flinched, the sudden sound of Edward’s bellow coming loud and clear from beyond her ward.

  George squeezed her fingers. “Drake deserves it.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Perry said sadly. “It’s my fault for not following the plan. I-I just couldn’t ignore all those people. They were there for me, yes, but they were symbolic of more. That was our public, showing us they loved us and mourned with us.” Her throat closed. “I couldn’t ignore that. It would have been too hard.”

  Xavier’s voice was gruff. “You’re no fool, Perry. You know you did wrong considering the circumstances, but you also have to know that it takes time to plot these things. Shootings like what just happened aren’t sporadic events. They take a lot of preparation and planning, and usually, an inside man.” His mouth flattened. “That’s why Drake deserves to have his ass reamed. Whatever you did, the royal guards were supposed to react to it, to anything you do. They’re only supposed to retain you in emergency situations—your protective detail is supposed to be constantly assessing your safety, and they didn’t.

  “The fault of that has to lie with their boss.”

  Though she knew he was right, though it made sense, it didn’t change the fact one of her guards was dead and another grievously injured.

  “I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “Maybe not,” George whispered, “but you did, so there’s no point in rehashing that. Why are you in here if you haven’t been shot? Just a checkup?”

  She gulped. “When the shots fired, the men surrounded me. Out of nowhere, I was in a protective dome of human flesh.” Human flesh that had bled for her, and had died to keep her safe—how couldn’t she be humbled by that? “One of the shots found its target. The guard, Raoul Da Silva, stumbled into me. I almost fell to the ground, but someone held me up. Another shot came, and David, the other guard who was hit, tumbled inward, too.