Chapter Fifteen
To my surprise,it’s not one of the limousines waiting for us at the side entrance. Instead, we find ourselves in the backseat of a sleek black sedan with a deceptive amount of horsepower under the hood — the Maybach.
With Galizia (and her extensive tactical mobility training) at the wheel, we quickly navigate outside the city limits to a sun-drenched stretch of dirt road, leading up into the foothills of the mountain range that spans Germania’s eastern boarder.
Out here, there’s nothing but farmland and fresh air. Not a single building in sight, let alone another car. No one to impress. Hell, no one to even speak to.
The realization is freeing.
I didn’t realize how much I needed space until I got some. How claustrophobic my own life has become these past few months, surrounded by press cameras and pompous nobility members.
For the first time in a long time, I let my careful facade oftogethernessfall away and simply…
Breathe.
In and out.
Eyes wide open.
Taking in the sensation like a patient newly awakened from a coma, my senses almost dull from disuse.
Chloe cranks the music loud as I crank down the windows, letting a vortex of wind rush in. It smells like newly-cut hay and budding flowers — an intoxicatingly floral medley, nascent notes of spring swimming in my head like a drug.
“Floor it, Galizia!” Chloe commands from beside me, her head hanging out the window like a dog. She laughs as red hair whips into her face, the sound snatched away by the rush of air long before it reaches my ears.
Galizia checks we’re both wearing our seatbelts before she grudgingly complies with our repeated requests.
More speed.
More.
More.
More.
We hit a dirt-packed straightaway and start to fly. The Maybach’s supercharged engine effortlessly carries us down the roadway so fast, the world outside turns to a blur. And with no one around to judge me — no camera crews in my face or microphone stands at the ready or hawk-eyed social media users documenting my every move — I throw my head back and scream into the wind until all the tension of the past few weeks leaves my body in a great rush. Until the worries about referendum results and political repercussions and underhanded enemies and impending proposals disappear from my mind and the only thing that remains is…
Freedom.
Utter freedom.
“Thank you,” I yell to Chloe over the roar of the wind and the growl of the Maybach. “I needed this!”
Giggling like an utter lunatic, she reaches across the back seat and grabs my hand, squeezing so hard my finger bones crunch. I can’t hear her words, but I read them clearly on her lips as she mouths them to me.
Love you, sis.
* * *
After an afternoon of adrenaline,I fall asleep in the car on our way back to the castle, jolting awake when we come to a stop in the driveway. Blinking bleary eyes, I look around in confusion when I realize we aren’t at Waterford Palace. The Maybach is idling in an unfamiliar circular driveway in front of a towering estate I’ve never seen before.
It’s quite a sight — imposing stone steps, ornate marble cornices, gothic towers that spear upward into the moody afternoon sky. I spot several gargoyles standing guard on the black gabled roofs, their fanged faces contorted into sneers.
“Where are we?”
“Hightower,” Chloe says succinctly.
“What?”