“Hang on,” she tells me, her voice faint and garbled.
Her face is the last thing I see.
—
I come towith her name on my lips, it croaking out of me before my eyes are fully opened.
A glass of water is pressed to my lips, and I sip gratefully.
My eyes flutter open and it takes me a minute to recognize my surroundings. I’m back in my suite at Scotan Castle, tucked into the same bed I’ve been sleeping in since I was a child.
I search for her, and my vision finally focuses on the hand holding out the glass of water.
She smiles down at me, though it’s strained. Dark circles paint her under eyes; she looks too pale, too thin. The arm holding thecup of water is wrapped in a bandage. “Welcome back, Your Highness.”
I take the glass from her and set it on the table next to the bed before pulling her into my arms. One hand works its way into the long waves of her hair, the other pressing flat to the small of her back, holding her close enough that I can feel the echo of her heartbeat.
Her heart is still beating.
“I’m happy to see you too,” she murmurs against the shell of my ear.
“Is everyone okay?”
She pulls away just enough to nod. “Bianca was on her way to us before we could even go to her. She healed everyone. She’s been asleep ever since.” Worry for her friend mars her face.
“Lady M?” I’m scared to ask, but I need to know that she’s truly gone.
“Disappeared. No one has seen or heard from her.” The distress on her face echoes my own.Disappeareddoesn’t mean gone forever, especially considering her parting words.
“And Harold?” I grip her hand in mine, knowing the truth before she voices it.
“He’s gone. It was an accident, but you killed him, Cal. I know it’s hard to imagine, but he would have wanted it this way, I’m sure of it.” She pulls away from me.
My brow furrows. My head still feels like mush, but I’m aware enough to know that’s not right. “What do you mean, I killed him?”
She sits up, putting space between us that I don’t want. “I mean, as far as anyone outside this room is concerned, you killed him.”
I reach for her hand. She lets me lace our fingers together, but hers remain limp in my hold. “We both know that’s not what happened.”
She shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “It’s what should have happened.You were meant to be the leader of your people, Callum. And now you will be. He told me, before he died, that the poison was still in him. He was going to die anyway, and he meant for you to be the one to do it.”
“Cate…”
She returns her eyes to mine and they are determined. “I already told everyone that’s what happened. The newspapers have reported it. The killing period has ended. You are the Scotan candidate for the first presidential election of Avon, Callum.” Her smile is weak and a bit sad. “You are going to be the president this country needs, Your Highness.”
She tries to pull away again, but I keep a tight hold on her hand. “I don’t think I can do this without you. I almost lost you, and even the thought of facing a single day without you was too much for me, Cate. I need you. And I know you need me too.”
She studies the wall as if it’s the most interesting piece of art. “I do.”
But it doesn’t sound like she means it. I search for the Bond, the tie that has linked us since our very first meeting. There’s still a heat there, deep in my veins, and if I focus hard enough, I can feel the itch. But it’s strained, like one of us is resisting the connection.
I know it’s not me.
Somehow, with all the loss of the last week, this is the one that hurts the most.
Alex,
When you first approached me and we discussed the plan, you promised me your nephew would be a perfect candidate. Forgive me for my bluntness, but how is being involved with a courtesan a representation of a perfect candidate? I don’t think it’s an issue that she’s Gifted; if anything it only speaks to his willingness to uphold the ideals of the Uprising. But she works at a pleasure club, Alex. You need to do something about this.
