I jump out ofthe carriage before it can reach the roundabout at the front of the estate, knowing the second my feet hit the ground that something is wrong. Dashing through the thick copse of trees at the side of the house, I head directly for Alex’s cabin on the outskirts of the property. Whatever is happening inside our home, I know enough to know I shouldn’t face it alone.
The door to Alex’s cabin stands open, and my stomach turns at the sight. I sprint inside, searching for any sign of him. Or for any sign of a struggle. But the small space is deserted and nothing seems to be out of place.
I head down the tight hallway, finding the loose plank of wood in the corner of the floor. Ripping it up, I see that our emergency packs have been taken. In their place is a note dashed out in Alex’s precise handwriting.
I have Dom. We’re safe. You know where to find us. Be careful, Cal, this is more than we bargained for.
A small bit of relief slips through me, but it’s short-lived. If Dom and Alex fled, just how bad have things gotten? What am I going to be walking into, alone and unprepared? It will make it easier to fight, knowing my sister and uncle are away from the fray, but if things are as bad as Alex’s warning implies, I might be outmatched anyway.
I crumple the note in my fist, tossing it aside and sprinting for the main castle.
I encounter the first would-be assassin steps from the estate. He slips into the back door and I spend a precious second wondering how he knew to enter from the rear for easier access to my father’s chambers, wonder if this is someone we used to call a friend.
I increase my speed, following him on light feet. He’s halfway up the staircase by the time I overtake him, my arm tightening around his neck, enough to knock him unconscious. The man wears a mask, and once he’s slumped in my arms, I yank it off, revealing the face of one of our guards. A man sworn to protect the life of the royal family, and here he is, planning to assassinate his king. I drop the man’s body, not caring that he tumbles down the stairs, coming to a harsh stop at the bottom. I hope he wakes to several broken bones. It’s the least he deserves for his betrayal.
Making my way up the steps, I realize no servants or guards bustle through the halls or work in the kitchens. Normally an estate of this size is teeming with people. The silence is deafening. It sends a chill of foreboding through me.
I’m too late.
No. If my father were dead, I would feel it. I would know. I’m sure of it.
My footsteps slow as I get closer to the king’s suite. I can see the open doorway from far down the hallway, but it isn’t until I creep closer that I hear the voices inside.
“Just do it already,” a woman’s voice commands. There’s a trace of familiarity in her tone, but I can’t place it, can’t figure out where I might have heard it before.
“I don’t think I can,” a man responds, his voice weak.
“You must!”
I lean forward, ready to spring into action, when a punch to my lower right side knocks me into the wall. I don’t have time to reach for a blade, the assailant’s fists flying at me. I duck a punch, grateful for Dom’s sparring sessions for improving my form. The assailant is quick, but their punches begin to soften the more they throw. I bide my time, knowing I can last longer. I wait for the strike aimed at my head, catching their fist and using their momentum to twist an arm behind their back.
“The last thing this country needs is another one of you at the helm.” The voice is high-pitched and feminine, unrecognizable, but laced with anger.
I slam her body against the wall, yanking both arms tighter behind her back. “Let’s let the people decide that, shall we?”
She tries to throw her head back, aiming to connect with my nose, but a swift strike to the back of the head with the butt end of my dagger I managed to unsheath, and she’s crumpling on the floor.
There’s only a slim chance the occupants in my father’s room missed all that commotion, so I stride forward, trying to quiet my footsteps.
“We do not have time for hesitation! We are not the only ones who want this!” The original commanding voice has gone shrill with panic and frustration.
A different voice chimes in, lower-pitched and strained. “I can’t keep him under like this forever.”
“He’s going to wake up soon.” Yet another voice, higher and breathy.
I turn on my tactical brain, leaning on my military training, so I don’t do something rash and stupid. I’ve acted on my emotions enough for one evening. There are at least four people in the room, but from the sounds of it, my father is still alive. I hold on to that as I continue to make my way down the hallway, silently drawing a dagger from my boot to join the one already gripped in my hand.
“You must do as I instruct. This is the only way.” The first woman’s voice, fiercer now, angry.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone. King James is a good man. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“You think he is so good and benevolent? He is a monarch, just like the rest of them. Merciless. Unforgiving. A liar and a cheat. Kill him, Harold!”
My breath stops in my chest. I’d somehow managed to forget the information Caterine bestowed upon me before I left. Managed to block out just who the would-be killer actually is. Harold MacVeigh.
I edge down the hallway, keeping my back pressed to the wall until I can peek into the room. Light spills out into the hall and I see the bodies of several others who wanted to kill my father and will no longer have the chance. Unlike the two I left behind, these would-be assailants are dead. Lady M and her companions were clearly more ruthless than I am; not once did I think there might be this many others gunning for the candidacy, willing to kill my father for the chance at power.
My stomach turns, the smell of blood thick in the air.
