He caught sight of his parents being moved through a different set of doors and the tightness in his chest eased just a little. His parents were safe.
The King and Queen were safe.
Long Live Valleria.
The motto, instilled in him long before his Navy training, echoed in his head.
The ground shook again.
Panic swarmed the crowd as the energy of fear wove through them, around them.
His medical training took over, his eyes racing across the ballroom. Some had tripped but weren’t injured. Some falling objects had hit others in the head—they’d be his first stop—but they weren’t seriously injured, either.
His eyes once again locked on hers.
Anda. Anda Salamanca.
Known the world over as a Spanish-Vallerian actress of fierce talent and persuasive eyes.
He knew her true identity: a secret agent. A Vallerian agent, but an agent, nonetheless. That was her secret, and one he’d found out the hard way.
How did he know? He knew things about her that even his older brother and Valleria’s spymaster, Marcello, didn’t know. Not to mention, she’d used her unique skills on him.
On that thought, the ground shook once more.
He watched in horror as the stage cracked…
Then collapsed…
And she disappeared from view.
* * *
Anda remained crouched on the stage, her eyes locked with the prince she’d tried hard to forget. The last time she’d seen him, the last word she’d said to him had been his first name, though she doubted he’d heard her.
It was hard to pull her gaze away from him, it always had been since the start. The inexplicable connection they had was not one easily broken, though he probably hated her after their last conversation…really, their last fight.
Seeing him again, him knowing her secret, her knowing his…she found that once again she couldn’t look away. She’d thought she’d found everything with him and, even now knowing she hadn’t, she still yearned for him.
Someone in the crowd yelled out in pain, reminding her where she was and what she was supposed to be doing.
The mission. Always the mission first.
The ground rumbled beneath her as the second explosion went off, and her gaze broke from his.
She knew who had set the bombs, and why. They—an elusive terrorist group called the Vallerian Patriots, who obviously weren’t patriots at all—were here, and she must help stop them.
The royals—bar Ethan—were being rushed away. Why wouldn’t he go? Why wouldn’t he leave? Why was no one saving him? She would have done it, but the action would have drawn too much attention to herself. As an actress, she was supposed to crave attention and did. As an agent and spy…attention would get her targeted or killed or worse. At this event, she was supposed to be a world-famous actress auctioning off a meal with herself for charity, not a royal-saving spy. While she was on stage, there were too many eyes on her, even now.
She had to leave, find the third bomb that she knew was coming but not when. The entire building had been swept before the event begun, the threat coming in mere minutes after the royals had arrived and the Queen had taken the stage to make welcoming remarks. That meant someone had placed all the explosive devices here after the event had started and managed to get by all the agents to do so, whether the agents had been obvious, or unknown like her.
It had to be one of the attendees. Someone on the guest list or staff had either placed the bombs or helped the people who did.
She now scanned the crowd, looking for that weakness, that one clue that would help her discover who it might be. Was someone’s reaction too muted? Too over the top? Was there regret in their movements, or joy?
Agents, some also undercover, helped the crowd as it rushed towards the doors. No agent was near the stage, at least none she recognized.
That meant it was up to her to help those nearest, and try to find the third bomb.
