I don’t know what I thought. Candoran law doesn’t want me to have her. The queen doesn’t want me to have her. Even her friends warned me to stay away. All throughout the night, I kept telling myself that it’s better to let her go, but every reason I found to quell my interest just made it grow so much more until I could no longer deny how I feel.
First time I fall for someone, and she’s the one person I can’t have.
“You’re unnaturally tense,” Sander says and bumps his arm into mine.
“Stop distracting me,” I grunt and shift my eyes to the other side of the stage, where Hex and Rothesby have taken the other two posts. The rest of the guards are patrolling the audience or outside, along with most of the Skalridge police force who searched everyone as they came in. I’ve done everything I can to ensure nothing goes wrong with this debate, and since it’s the only one happening and is being broadcast across the country, I don’t think anyone—Fenwick included—would be stupid enough to try to disrupt things unless they have a death wish.
“We have one more question for the two of you before we adjourn for the day,” the moderator says, and the energy of the crowd shifts from enthralled to restless, like all of the people here hadn’t realized how long they were sitting quiet and still until someone pointed out the impending conclusion.
I shift my weight, scanning the audience for any signs of danger. I don’t know why. Nothing has happened so far, and clearly my ideas about what might happen in this job are radical compared to the average Candoran crime rate. Fenwick shouldn’t be able to get in if the guards and the police are doing their jobs right, and the rest of the audience seem to be fans of both Grimstad and Freya.
“In ten years,” the moderator says, “what will Candora look like under your leadership? To go with that, how will the average Candoran’s life be better?”
“Would you like to take this one first, Your Highness?” Grimstad says, gesturing toward her.
She smiles sweetly. “No, I think you’ve earned the right to be heard.”
Look at her, sounding more and more like an Average Joe. Polite as ever, though.
Movement across the stage pulls my gaze to Hex, whose eyes are fixed on something in the audience as his hand works its way toward the gunhe carries. I follow his hard gaze, but it’s hard to tell where he’s looking. I wish we had earpieces.
“There,” Sander says, locking his eyes on someone near the center of the auditorium. He must have also seen his twin’s attention shift.
Using both their sightlines, I find what they’re staring at:Fenwick.
Resisting the urge to pull my gun, I tune out Grimstad’s response and put my whole focus into Fenwick. He’s hiding his eyes beneath a hat, but that shouldn’t have been enough to get him into the arena. He’s sitting so still that I have to assume he’s going to try something. Everyone else is nodding along to whatever Grimstad is saying or looking at their phones, but Fenwick hasn’t moved an inch.
“What should we do?” Sander asks under his breath. “I can—”
“No.” Though I speak to Sander, I look straight at Hex and only speak again when he looks at me, since he reads lips almost as well as I do. “The two of you will be the first ones out if something happens. You’re not putting yourselves in danger.”
Hex frowns and shakes his head.
I glare at him. “That’s an order, Your Highness. As a prince of Candora, your life is valuable. Understand?”
Sander grunts, which had better be an agreement, and though Hex looks like he wants to keep arguing, he nudges Rothesby and tells him that Fenwick is in the audience. That’s about all we can do from up here, and I’m kicking myself again for not thinking ahead when it comes to communicating with the rest of the team. I have no way to alert anyone else without Fenwick realizing we know he’s here, and that could trigger him to act.
Howdid he get in?
I curse under my breath as the audience applauds. Freya starts her closing arguments as soon as they quiet down, and that’s when Fenwick moves.
Not a lot. Just a shift of his shoulders, but with how still he’s been over the last couple of minutes, that bit of movement is enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through me. My hand itches to grab my gun and be ready for whatever comes, but I’m currently on a stage in front of the entire country. I can’t go around flashing a weapon when there’s no visible threat.
I hate this. I hate that I can’t do anything but stand here and hope I’m being paranoid again. Hope Fenwick is a loyal supporter of Grimstad and here for the debate like everyone else.
But that would be too convenient.
“El,” Sander says at the same time the audience starts clapping for Freya. Grimstad stands, holding out his hand to help Freya from her chair.
Fenwick stands as well, a hand reaching into his jacket as his glare comes into view with his lifted chin.
“Everyone down!” I dart forward but not fast enough. The gunshot echoes in the arena, and Freya and Grimstad topple over Freya’s seat. “No!” My shout is drowned out by screams in the crowd, and I leap over Grimstad’s abandoned chair and find both candidates on the floor. My heart skips a few beats while I search for injuries.
She’s unharmed.
Grimstad isn’t.
“Markham!” Freya cries, scrambling over to him and grabbing his bleeding arm. “Why did you jump in front of me?”
