by Ally Carter
“They thought it was you,” I say, the words lost amid the firecrackers and the singing, the roar of the flames and the people dancing in the streets.
“Grace!” Jamie grabs my arms and shakes me. He makes me look into his eyes. But all I can remember are Dominic’s words.
You’re not safe.
There is no one on earth who knows all of my secrets. I’ve dug too deep, hidden them too well. But Jamie comes the closest. He knew the girl who jumped from the wall and the monster that lay strapped to a bed, out of her head with grief and guilt and terror. My brother has seen my demons and he knows my ghosts, but the specter that is after me now haunts us both.
“Jamie, listen to me!” I yell, but my brother has a death grip on my arm; he’s trying to drag me away from the crowds. I’m happy to let him steer me, but I also have to make him see.
“Jamie, listen to me! Spence was wearing your coat.”
Noah and Megan are fading away. People push between us. They must know this is sibling stuff — family drama. They don’t even try to follow.
“Jamie, stop!” I yell, and pull free of his grasp. “Listen to me!” I grab his arms then, hold him still and make him look into my eyes.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asks.
“Jamie,” I say again. “Spence was in your coat when he died. What if they thought they were killing you?”
But Jamie doesn’t see. Of course he doesn’t.
My brother scoffs and looks away. He can’t face me. But then he turns back, and the look in his eyes is even worse than his scorn or my shame. It is worry. My brother is so worried about me that even James Blakely Jr. of West Point is about to cry.
“Gracie,” he says, reaching for my face.
A part of me wants to sink into his touch, to be a little girl again, safe within the reach of my big brother. But I can’t be Gracie the screwup right now, not the daredevil and not the freak. I can’t be the girl who got strapped to the bed. I have to be the one who was brave enough to jump from the wall. I have to make him notice.
“The man wasn’t a burglar!” I snap, and push his hand away.
“What man?” Jamie asks, and I can tell he honestly doesn’t know.
“The intruder, the one in Mom’s shop. When she died, he wasn’t there to rob her; he was there to kill her. I thought he had killed her.”
“Don’t think about that, Gracie —”
“Someone wanted our mother dead, Jamie! They sent a man to murder her, and I —”
I killed her.
I killed her.
I killed her.
“Someone wanted her dead!” I shout, because I have to do something besides remember the truth — that she wouldn’t actually be dead if it weren’t for me.
“Gracie, let’s get you back to the embassy.”
“Don’t.” I push away from my brother’s grasp. “Jamie, you have to listen to me. Will you listen? When Mom was a girl, she got involved in something. She found out something. Someone tried to have her killed, but the Scarred Man came, and —”
They’re the wrong words.
For too long, Jamie heard me rant and scream about the Scarred Man. For years, Dominic was the thing that went bump in the night, the monster under my bed. My brother can’t possibly know that he’s my friend now.
“Don’t look at me that way.”
“What way?” Jamie asks. “Come on, Gracie. Let’s just go home. I want to go home. Don’t you?”
I don’t have a home.
“They tried to kill her, Jamie! And then … What if they tried to kill you?”
I say it as clearly, as plainly, as I can. I don’t rush, and I look him squarely in the eye.
I do my best not to sound crazy.
All around us, the crowd swells and crashes closer, jarring Jamie and pushing him against me.
“Gracie, I —”
But the words don’t come. He doesn’t chastise or patronize. I’d give anything to hear my brother say there is no Scarred Man. I’d even give anything for it to be true.
Because what happens next is worse. So, so much worse.
Jamie looks at me, surprise etched on his face. It’s like he’s dragged his feet across the carpet and gotten a shock, stubbed his toe. Then the look morphs into dread and understanding.
It’s the look of someone who — at last — believes me.
“Gracie?” He opens Spence’s jacket, then stumbles forward.
My brother is falling. I see the red splash of blood that is spreading across his white T-shirt, covering his side. A scream rises in my throat, but the sound is lost amid the chaos of the festival.
Was he stabbed? Was he shot? No one is screaming and running away. So it’s almost peaceful as I watch my brother crumble.
I’m reaching for him, but he’s so much bigger than I am, too heavy for me. I feel him slip through my grasp, dead weight.
Dead.
I scream, “Jamie!” But then he stops falling. His arm is dragged around a man’s neck as the dark figure takes Jamie’s weight. The man’s mask covers his face, but I know the blue eyes that stare back at me.
My heart pounds as Alexei yells, “Run!”
My brother isn’t dead, but he’s still bleeding. Even in the dark, I can see the color fading from his face. And yet he stays upright, his arm slung around Alexei’s broad shoulders. His feet move, but I know it’s only because Alexei refuses to let him slip away. I push ahead through the crowd, trying to make room, blaze a path, but to where I have no clue.
“They shot him,” I say, glancing back toward Alexei. “Or they stabbed him. I don’t know!”
Alexei’s mask is gone, forgotten. And Jamie looks up at his oldest friend and says, “I’m okay …”
“Shut up,” Alexei snaps. “Save your strength.”
“I’m fine.” Jamie struggles to pull his arm from around Alexei’s shoulders, but when he does he stumbles, and Alexei catches him.
“I’ve got you,” Alexei says.
“I know,” Jamie replies.
This is how boys make up, I decide. Some bloodshed, a mob, and a few terse words, not a single one of which is sorry.
“Can we save the man hugging for later?” I snap. For once, it seems, I am the mature one.
When I look back, I see the blood that covers Jamie’s shirt. He’s trying to press against the wound with his free hand, but it’s not working. My brother is going to bleed to death, die right in front of me. And I can’t watch that happen. Not again. Not to somebody else I love.
“Stop!” I tell Alexei, and rush to press against Jamie’s side. His wound isn’t like mine. It’s deeper. The blood is almost black, and the harder my brother’s heart pumps, the more it tries to kill him.
“We cannot stop here,” Alexei says. I’m not sure Jamie even hears us. Sweat beads on his brow and his skin looks like ashes. “It’s not safe.”
Alexei’s right and I know it. But still I stay by my brother’s side. I rip off my cardigan and push it to his wound.
“We have to get to the embassy,” I tell him.
“We have to get to a hospital!” Alexei shouts.
But I’m shaking my head. What was a wild theory five minutes ago is now unequivocal fact. “They thought Spence was him. That’s why they killed him. And they’re not gonna stop. They’ll find him at the hospital, Alexei. They’ll find him, and …”
Alexei searches the crowd, but for what I don’t think either of us knows.
I think about another night in another crowd. I was stabbed, but now I know it was no coincidence, no accident. Maybe I wasn’t simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was stabbed! And maybe Jamie was, too. Maybe he was shot. I can’t even tell amid the darkness and the blood. Is the threat on some rooftop or just behind us, closing in?
“We have to get to the embassy,” I say one more time, searching the crowd for Dominic. Dominic will know how to field dress the wound. He’ll keep Jamie alive, keep me safe. He won’t let Caroline’s childre
n die. Of that much I am certain.
We just have to find him and get to him and stay one step ahead of whatever or whoever is out here, hunting us.
“We should go into the tunnels,” Alexei says, and maybe he’s right, but at least among the crowd we are somewhat sheltered. We are in a forest of people, dodging among the trees. And I can’t imagine that whoever is after us doesn’t know about the tunnels — that they won’t be able to follow us there, inside the darkness and the echoing chambers. And, besides, I’m finished hiding. If I’m going to die it’s going to be in a place where I can see the stars.
“Grace,” Alexei shouts. “Gracie!”
Jamie’s eyes are closed, but he’s still breathing.
We’re running out of time.
I turn, searching the crowds for Noah or Lila or Megan, for someone on my grandfather’s staff. We need a bulletproof car. We need fences and shelter and a fortress.
A palace.
I start pushing through the crowd, shouting, clawing my way toward the gates. The windows are right in front of me. I can see them, and even though I can’t see her, I know she’s up there, watching through that one-way glass.
“Ann!” I yell, as if she’ll be able to hear me. I risk turning loose of my brother and wave with both arms, jumping up and down. “Help us! Help us!”
Alexei stares at me, dumbfounded. “Gracie, we have to go.”
“We need help,” I tell him.
“Yes, so we must …” But Alexei trails off as, slowly, the gates swing open.
I look at him and take up Jamie’s arm. “Come on.”
The guards recognize me. I was just here, they know. I was a personal guest of Princess Ann’s, so one of the men rushes toward us.
“We need to see the princess,” I say. “Now!”
But even I am a little surprised when the doors swing open, and the most wanted man in Adria and I drag an ambassador’s unconscious grandson into the palace’s halls.
Inside the palace walls there is a different kind of chaos.
Guards swarm around us. Two men take Jamie from Alexei and me, dragging him away. We are in a gleaming hallway and my brother is getting blood all over their good rug. I want to apologize, to ask for some paper towels so I might clean up the mess. But I’m too numb. I’m shaking, reaching out for Jamie.
I yell out his name, but my brother doesn’t answer. His eyelids flutter and his legs go weak.
Princess Ann is before me now, gripping my arms.
“Grace!” she yells. “Look at me! Are you hurt?”
“Jamie’s been shot. Or stabbed. I don’t know. He’s bleeding. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“I know. But, Grace, are you okay? Were you hit?”
Was I? I wonder. I was stabbed and didn’t realize it until the adrenaline wore off. Maybe … “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“It’s okay, Grace. You’re with me now. You’re going to be okay.”
“I knew you were there,” I say. “In the window. I knew you were watching. And that you’d help. And … Where are they taking Jamie?”
“These are my private guards, Grace. They can be trusted.”
I want to breathe. I want it to be okay. But more than anything, I want to be back in the embassy, on US soil, safe and sound.
I just want Jamie to be safe.
“Someone shot Jamie,” I mutter again, because it’s only just now sinking in. “Or was he stabbed?” It’s a big thing not to know, but a silly thing to wonder. Does it even matter? My brother might die either way.
Ann holds me steady. “I never should have let you leave.”
“Why would anyone want to shoot Jamie?”
For a moment, it looks as if Ann might actually tell me, but she just grips me by the shoulders, steers me down a long hall.
“Dominic was with me,” I say. “But then he wasn’t.”
“Yes. Dominic has always been protective of the women in your family. Now come. We have to get you away, Grace.”
“Wait.” I stop and look around. “I need to go with Jamie. Where’s Alexei?”
“Don’t worry about them.”
“I need to see my brother. Take me to him.”
People don’t give orders to princesses. I watch Ann process this fact, see her start to speak, but before she can say a word, alarms sound. Ann gasps and jumps as the doors swing open and armed guards swarm the room, yelling and running. Only Dominic stands still among the chaos.
It takes me a moment to realize that he has a death grip on Alexei’s arm and he’s not smiling. The most wanted man in Adria is inside the palace, just feet away from the future queen. Maybe that’s why Ann’s face morphs from fear to confusion to anger.
“What’s going on here?” she says.
“I’m sorry for the disturbance, Your Highness, but as you can see we have the fugitive in custody. You’re safe now,” Dominic reports.
Ann was safe before they burst through the doors, but I don’t say so. I’m too relieved to see Alexei and Dominic, to know that they’re both still okay.
Dominic tugs Alexei’s arm and stares at me. “We’re sorry to disturb you, ma’am. But don’t worry. It’s over. I’ll escort your guests home, and I apologize again for this. Come on, Grace — we need to get you and your brother home. Now.”
He gives Alexei’s arm a shake, and before I can say anything, Dominic turns and I follow. With one quick glance back at Princess Ann, I rush toward the doors.
Outside, a van idles. There are no cameras, no cops. There’s only Dominic and the palace guards.
“This boy’s been injured!” someone yells in Adrian, but Dominic is already there, calmly directing the men who are carrying Jamie on a gurney, sliding it into the van. Alexei follows, but I stay in Dominic’s arms, screaming without making a sound.
Dominic’s sleeves are rolled up and his hands are inside my brother’s chest — they’re inside his chest, I realize, and I think I’m going to be sick. But I can’t stop looking as Jamie lies on the table in the formal dining room — the very place where just days ago Spence told Ms. Chancellor about his family, where Jamie and Grandpa passed looks between them as if I was the one who would never be okay again.
Chaos surrounds us.
I can hear Grandpa yelling in the hall.
“This is Ambassador William Blakely. I want a helicopter and I want it now! You tell the general I don’t care who he has to get out of bed or dig up from the grave, there will be a chopper on the roof of this embassy within the hour. Do you hear me?”
“Maybe we should go to a hospital,” I say, terrified I was wrong, that my foolishness might cost my brother his life.
But Dominic looks at me. “We can’t secure the hospital, Grace Olivia. Not in time.”
The embassy is my country — not Adria. The embassy is safe.
Bloody rags are thrown to the floor. People run in and out, bringing medical supplies from I-don’t-know-where.
There should be doctors.
There should be nurses and bright lights and rooms so clean they stink with the smell of antiseptic.
This isn’t some third-world country, and yet my brother lies on a dining room table. Saline bags hang from a chandelier. And I can hear marines running in the hallways, making sure the embassy is secure, trying to keep us safe.
Then my brother coughs. Blood runs from his lips, and I know it’s too late. Jamie is anything but safe.
“Where’s the blasted helicopter?” my grandfather keeps shouting.
“Grace, you shouldn’t be here.” Ms. Chancellor tries to touch me but I cringe and jerk away. “Grace, dear, come with me.”
“I won’t leave him,” I say.
“He wouldn’t want you to see him like this.”
She means it wouldn’t be good for me to see a second member of my family die right before my eyes. But I don’t care. If Jamie dies, then that fact in itself will kill me. So I don’t move an inch.
“Someone get me some light!” D
ominic yells. “I need light!”
“Here.” The flashlight is always in my pocket now. I take it out, hold it as steady as I can.
The lights are off in the dining room, as if that will help Jamie rest. Only a single spotlight shines down upon my brother’s bloody chest. I want to whisper into his ear, tell him not to follow the light. But maybe Mom is at the end of it. Maybe I’m just jealous that I can’t go, too.
“Will someone tell me what is happening now?”
“No.” Dominic’s tone tells me that it isn’t up for debate. He’s not my father, not my grandfather. He doesn’t even work at the embassy. But my brother’s blood is still all over his hands. I’m not going to complain.
“The army has a wonderful medical facility at their base in Germany. We’ll get him there,” Ms. Chancellor says. “If we can.”
If.
I look at them then, Dominic and Ms. Chancellor — really look at them. At what it is they aren’t saying.
“You should get some rest, dear,” Ms. Chancellor says, but I pull away from her.
“Tell me. Now.” I’m trying to be calm, to be cool. And that’s what scares them. “Why is someone after my family? Why are they out to kill us?”
Ms. Chancellor and Dominic share a look. He says, “If it were up to me, I would have told her years ago.”
“Tell me now,” I say again, and wait for Ms. Chancellor to do just that.
“Grace, two hundred years ago, during the coup, palace guards abandoned their posts and threw open the gates. As you know, members of the Society went that night to try to salvage what they could. It was too late, though, to save the king and queen and princes, and the palace was bedlam. Looters and murderers, thieves … It was a nightmare, but sometimes chaos serves a purpose. And that night, among the chaos, one of the royal nursemaids was able to hide a very small baby in her arms —”
“Amelia lived,” I say, and let the words wash over me. I look up at Ms. Chancellor. “The treasure.”
“Yes, dear. When the Society came, they found the princess and her nurse. Of course, they had also gathered some records and artifacts and other items as well,” Ms. Chancellor adds. “But Amelia was without a doubt the most valuable thing taken from the palace that night.”