I’m so awestruck, I don’t remember why I’m here until a crunch of gravel beside me pulls my attention back to earth. The dark-haired stranger stands a handful of feet away, his tone dripping with disdain as he surveys the scene.
“Seriously? The Lockwood Estate?” he scoffs, eyeing the nearest guard. “The extraction protocols demand you bring me somewheresafe— not somewhere so far removed from anything remotely interesting, I’ll want to blow my own brains out after thirty minutes.”
The suits, predictably, don’t react except to start walking toward the front door. It’s clear we’re expected to follow, but neither of us makes a move. I, for one, am in no rush to find out what awaits me across that threshold.
Or…whoawaits me.
I let my eyes slide over to the man at my side. He’s taller than I thought in the car — well over six feet — and he seems determined not to meet my gaze, staring at the house like it’s the first ring of Hell rather than a stunningly beautiful mansion. Belatedly, it occurs to me that he himself must be part of the royal family’s entourage. His presence here means he’s either related to the Lancasters or closely connected to them. I just really hope I’m not expected to call himmy liegeormy lordor some other pretentious title… because that willnotbe happening.
For the first time in my life, I curse myself for forcibly ignoring everything about the monarchy. For avoiding news channels, looking away from tabloid magazine covers, tuning out idle chitchat about the dashing prince with the girls in my freshman year dormitory. I always told myself I had no interest in wasting brain cells on such frivolity, but the truth is… it was too painful to be an outsider pressed up the glass, peering in on a life that was almost mine.
Yet, now…
Here I am. About to shatter that pane and step through it.
I glance at the stranger again. My mouth opens to ask him a question, but I snap it closed before a single word can escape. After our intense tête-à-tête back in the car, I’m not sure we’re still on speaking terms.
He expels a sharp breath. “For fuck’s sake, just ask.”
I blink, startled. “What?”
He looks down at me like I’m the most annoying person to ever dare breathe his air. His dark brows are pulled into a scowl that somehow only makes him more handsome. Or maybe that’s the moon’s doing. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, far removed from any source of light pollution, the starlight is so bright it bathes his every feature in pale, monochrome perfection.
“Now or never.”
“Where are we?” I ask before he can change his mind.
“The Lockwood Estate.”
“Yes, butwhereis that?”
“About a quarter league past bum-fuck nowhere.”
“Thanks. That’s immensely helpful.”
He shrugs unapologetically, shoving his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored gray dress pants. “This place is about halfway between Lund and Vasgaard, if memory serves.”
“Why are we here?”
“I assume you saw the news earlier.”
“The fire at the palace?”
“Yes.” A bolt of grief flashes through his eyes, buried away so fast I’m sure I imagined it. “When there’s a threat to the crown, the whole royal family is put on lockdown, along with their closest relatives, friends, pertinent connections… You get the idea.”
I nod.
His eyes narrow on me. “Since you never told me who the hell you are, I’m assuming you’re connected to someone of importance. Someone who wanted to ensure your safety, in case this fire turns out to be…” He runs a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching with sudden strain. “Something more than an accidental candle left burning in Henry’s chambers.”
The casualness with which he refers to the Crown Prince strikes me instantly.
Henry.
They’re close.
Friends. Maybe even family.
I suddenly remember his earlier words.