He walks over to me and sits beside me. “Emily and Javier come home today. She has a work phone with all the security features. We’ll start tracking her, and I’ll have Javier put an alert on her facial recognition in the palace. Certain locations at certain times will trigger it. And I’ll have Bellamy and the children keep their distance unless there’s a third party with them, but I’ll add on an armed attendant to them.”
I nod slowly, my head falling back to my hands. “You won’t let your wife leave the palace, and yet you’re willing to do all of this for me?”
“You told me you believe Marcella’s a patsy or a victim. I’ll give her and you the chance to prove that. But Rowan, I will say that my leash on this is extremely short.”
“Yes. I agree.”
“And if I suspect anything or fear for my family’s safety in the slightest?—”
“You act accordingly and do whatever you have to do.”
His hand grips my shoulder. “Go find Marie. Then come home to us.”
28
ROWAN
The drive to France is long and interminably boring. It’s not exactly like I can do this alone as my own recon mission. I’m the prince of Messalina, and therefore I require security with me at all times. Technically we’re also not supposed to drive ourselves. I have, and so has Sebastian on occasion, but it’s rare and, for this, not permissible.
So it’s me sitting in the back seat, drinking coffee and thinking about her. About all the things Sebastian and I spoke about this morning. I feel better for having told him, but I also realized my reasoning for not initially telling him was bullshit. I kept saying it was my responsibility to handle or that he had enough on his mind with Bellamy, the children, and the curse.
Thinking about it now, that’s not true.
I was afraid of his reaction. I was afraid he’d arrest her or tell me unequivocally that I couldn’t watch her or touch her. Truthfully, I’m shocked he didn’t, but despite my desires, and possibly my fucking heart, I couldn’t leave for who knows how long with a potential danger lurking in the mist.
But with that, I also need to dig deeper and harder.I need to uncover her secrets and the reason why she snuck into the wedding and now works in the palace. What happened to her last night that drove her over the edge?
My eyes close, and I replay the events as they unfolded. She wasn’t in her room. It was the middle of the night. She also didn’t have her phone—either phone—on her because when we came upstairs, I brought her into the shower and undressed her, and it wasn’t with her.
So what the fuck happened?
I could pull up the cameras, but the palace is massive—seventy-five thousand square meters with over seven hundred and fifty rooms. Without knowing where she was last night, it would mean a lot of searching, and not all of the rooms have cameras in them. It’s mostly the halls with the exception of the main rooms, several parlors, the library, the solarium, and other random areas. Private spaces don’t have cameras in them for obvious reasons.
I blow out a breath and sink back against the seat, my eyes heavy and my mind foggy. All too soon, Gabe, my lead security, clears his throat, and I wake with a small start.
“Sorry, sir. We’re here.”
I blink, wiping the sleep from my eyes, and glance toward the window. We’re on the outskirts of a French town not far from the Messalina border. It has the appearance of a suburb with rows of homes on neat streets.
Marie was here? That seems…odd.
I pictured her hiding in places like the cottage where the onesie and blanket were found. Then again, she doesn’t know we’re chasing her. She has no clue we know she’s the one who took Desta because we never announced the fingerprints we lifted from the newspaper clipping. The only ones who know about that are Sebastian, Javier, Bellamy, Emily, Althea, and me. It’s been over twenty years since that night.
Maybe she’s finally starting to let her guard down.
The SUV stops in front of the address the local police gave us. There’s a perimeter of crime scene tape linked from tree to tree. I scoot to the door and glance around the neighborhood. There’s a woman up the block with a stroller and an elderly couple on the other end walking a dog. A few houses down, a gardener is mowing the lawn. It’s as regular a world as it gets, and yet the woman who took my baby sister was here.
It makes me murderous.
She has no right to live when Desta likely isn’t.
The door opens for me, and I step out, squinting against the blinding sunlight. I pull my sunglasses out of my pocket so I can slip them on. We’re getting curious looks, and whether or not people recognize me remains to be seen. Right now, we simply appear like special police with our black SUV.
A police cruiser pulls up and parks in the driveway.
I scoot under the line of yellow tape, and two uniformed officers greet me halfway up the walkway.
“Your Highness,” they both say, going to bow when I stop them.