Chapter Ten
My back collideswith the hard wall of someone’s chest. I thrash in the iron-like arms holding me captive, but it’s no use. Whoever’s grabbed me is far too strong to fight off.
Why oh why did you leave your room in the middle of the night? Christ, Emilia, are you asking to be murdered?!
Fear streaks through me like a lightning bolt, zapping every one of my neurons. My mind reels, a montage of all the potential ways I’m about to die flashing in front of my eyes.
Is this the crazed arsonist who lit the fire?
An anti-monarchist with an axe to grind?
A disgruntled castle worker out for revenge?
I curse myself for being so careless. I curse Chloe for giving me judgment-impairing drugs. Most of all I curse whoever the hell is about to snap my neck and leave me for dead in this forgotten corridor.
I think of all the things I’ll be leaving behind. Morning horseback rides and pink sunsets. First kisses and first fights. The smell of old books and freshly changed sheets. Starry nights and warm breezes. Laughing till you cry with someone you love. Crying till you’re laughing over someone you’re supposed to hate.
I think of the people I’ll never get a chance to know. My father. My stepsister. My best friend. My bodyguard. My… I don’t have a word for Carter, but he’s there too, those blue eyes seared into my memory like a brand.
Lastly, and perhaps most surprisingly of all… I think of my country. My beautiful Germania, broken once again by the loss of their last hope. I think of the faces of my countrymen, of all the lives I could’ve changed as their Crown Princess, of all the things I could’ve done as their queen, someday.
I am not ready to die.
I have so much left to do.
The hand on my mouth tightens, muffling my screams. The arm around my midsection pins me against him so tight, struggling is essentially useless. When a pair of lips brushes my earlobe, pure panic overrides my senses and I go still, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, waiting to meet my fate.
That panic gives way to stunned disbelief when I hear my assailant speak a few seconds later, the rasping voice achingly familiar.
“There are two guards in the next hallway. So unless you’re ready for this little nighttime adventure to end… unless you want to be carted back to your room and assigned a twenty-four-hour guard detail from now on… I suggest you keep your mouth shut when I move my hand. Got it?”
Recognition slams into me. I’m equally relieved that I’m not about to die and pissed off at him for scaring me half to death.
Ugh.
UGH!
This freaking man…
I’d like to kill him. More so, I’dloveto scream my head off at him… but he’s right. The last thing I want is to get caught out of bed by the King’s Guard. That will only give Bane the justification he needs to put me on full lockdown again, like I was before I negotiated for more freedom.
Carter shakes me slightly. “Did you hear me?”
I nod.
His hand drops away from my mouth and I instantly whirl around to face him. Despite the darkness, I can make out every one of his annoyingly perfect features. Those furrowed brows, that strong jaw. His bed-mussed hair. And, most of all, those bold blue eyes, locked on mine with such intensity, I feel it in my every atom.
He’s wearing a thick fisherman-style sweater and dark grey sweatpants. For a full minute, we just stand there in silence, staring at each other. I want to look away almost as badly as I want to memorize his every minute detail, down to that little scar that bisects his left eyebrow and the supple curve of his bottom lip.
The longer I watch him, the greater the ache inside my chest grows. It’s the same one I feel every time I walk past him in the hallway and have to force myself not to step into his path; the same one I experience whenever I find myself two feet from him and know I cannot crush his mouth to mine.
I wonder if there will ever come a day when the mere sight of Carter Thorne doesn’t knock me out like a sucker punch straight to the heart.
I sincerely doubt it.
Swallowing hard, I push those thoughts away and grab hold of my anger instead — it’s vastly safer than the other emotions churning inside me, at the moment.
“You scared me half to death!” I whisper-yell, glaring at him.