“Mr. Montgomery?” His voice is clipped, all business.
“Yes?” My own voice comes out embarrassingly squeaky. I clear my throat. “Can I help you?”
“You need to come with me to the palace immediately.”
My stomach does a backflip. “The palace? Why? What’s going on?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss details.”
Zeke. My heart rate kicks up a notch. “Is everything okay with Zeke? He works with you, right?”
The guard’s gaze warms a little. “Zeke’s fine. He’s waiting for you.”
“Um, okay. Just let me grab my things.”
I duck back inside, snatching my wallet and phone. I follow the guard to a sleek black car with windows so tinted they’re practically opaque.
Did someone find out about us? Is Zeke in trouble? Am I in trouble? Is this because he jumped the palace wall that one time?
I slide into the backseat, my palms sweaty. As we pull away from the cottage, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being whisked off to my doom.
“So,” I venture, trying for casual. “Nice day for a drive to the palace, huh?”
The guard’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. His expression doesn’t change. “We’ll arrive shortly, Mr. Montgomery.”
Right. Clearly not a chatty fellow.
I slump back against the leather seat, my thoughts spiraling. What have I gotten myself into?
The car glides to a stop, and I step out, my jaw dropping at the sight before me. The Lydovian Palace looms, a breathtaking confection of gleaming white stone and gilded spires that make my cottage look like a shoebox.
I can’t see inside the walls from my yard, and I’ve never done one of the many guided palace tours. I never thought my first time inside would be with a royal guard on my heels.
“This way, Mr. Montgomery,” the guard says, leading me up marble steps.
I follow, acutely aware of my faded jeans and rumpled shirt. “I’m a little underdressed for the location,” I mutter.
The guard doesn’t respond, but I swear I see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
We enter a grand foyer, and I’m surprised at how modern it looks, considering the architecture of the building.
Finally, we reach a set of glass doors. When we go through it, I see Zeke immediately.
He’s wearing his royal guard uniform and his light-blond hair has been combed into submission.
His posture is rigid, hands clasped behind his back. It’s jarring to see him like this—no easy smile, no warmth in those blue eyes.
“Thank you,” Zeke says to the guard, and then he turns to me. “Please follow me.”
I do as he asks and follow him into a conference room with a large oval glass table and a wall filled with screens.
We’re alone, but Zeke maintains his distance. My heart sinks. What’s going on?
“Benni—Bennedict,” he says, his voice formal. “I’m sorry for making you come here all of a sudden.”
I swallow hard. “Zeke, what’s happening? You’re scaring me.”
He takes a step closer, and I see the struggle in his eyes—duty warring with the desire to comfort me. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Something happened, and I need you to help me.”
