“I understand, Your Highness,” I say quietly. “And I’ll do what needs to be done when the time comes.”
As I step back into the garden, the night air cool against my heated skin, I sense rather than see Dani emerge from the shadows. She falls into step beside me, her movements silent on the gravel path.
“So,” she says after a moment. “You in?”
I glance at her, taking in the professional assessment in her dark eyes. “You knew what she was going to propose.”
Dani shrugs, the gesture casual but her eyes remain watchful. “I helped her plan it. The clinics need to be hit hard and fast. Your prince’s approach is too slow, too cautious.”
“And you’re what—the Queen Mother’s personal strike team?”
“Something like that,” she admits. “I handle problems that require... direct solutions.”
I study her more carefully, recognizing a kindred spirit in the way she carries herself, the careful awareness of hersurroundings, the readiness for violence that never quite leaves her posture.
“You were military,” I observe. “Special operations, from your movement patterns. But not royal guard—they don’t train women for combat roles.”
She smiles, genuine amusement lighting her features. “Close. I was military, but not in any unit you’d find in official records. The Queen Mother has maintained her own security force for decades—all female, all highly trained, all absolutely loyal to her rather than the crown.”
The revelation shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. The idea that the Queen Mother has operated her own private military force under the king’s nose for years speaks to a level of independence—and potential threat—I hadn’t fully appreciated until now.
“And now you’re planning to hit the fertility clinics,” I say, bringing the conversation back to the immediate concern.
“Planning, yes. Executing, hopefully with your help.” Dani stops walking, turning to face me directly. “I’ve got twelve operators ready to move, but we need someone who knows the Inquisitor’s methods, his security protocols. Someone who can think like him.”
“Someone like me,” I translate.
“Exactly.” She studies me with professional assessment, her gaze lingering on the way I position myself, always angled for maximum visibility, maximum reaction time. “The Queen Mother says you’re the best she’s ever seen. High praise, coming from her.”
I say nothing, uncomfortable with both the compliment and the implication that the Queen Mother has been watching me for years, evaluating my skills without my knowledge.
“So,” Dani prompts again. “Are you in? Because if not, I need to know now so we can adjust our planning accordingly.”
I think of the women in those clinics, of what they must be enduring even now. Of Maya, who survived the Inquisitor’s experiments but carries the scars, both physical and mental. Of what Logan would say if he knew I was considering acting without his authorization, potentially undermining his authority before he even takes the throne.
But in the end, it’s not really a choice at all.
“I’m in,” I say simply. “When do we start?”
Dani’s smile is sharp as a blade in the moonlight. “Tomorrow. First light. Don’t be late.”
She melts back into the shadows with impressive skill, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the weight of the decision I’ve just made. A decision that could save countless lives or cost me everything I value.
Or possibly both.
I resume my patrol of the perimeter, my steps silent on the gravel path, my senses alert for any sign of threat. But my mind is already elsewhere, already planning the assault on the first clinic, already calculating risks and resources and potential casualties.
Already preparing for the moment when Logan discovers what I’ve done, and I have to face the consequences of choosing lives over loyalty.
CHAPTER 27
Maya
Laughter echoes down the corridor, bright and uninhibited. I pause mid-step, tilting my head to catch the sound again. It’s been days since I’ve heard genuine laughter in this palace of whispers and political maneuvering. The sound draws me forward like a beacon, pulling me away from my original destination—the library, where I’ve been spending most of my time since Logan and the others arrived.
I follow the sound down a hallway I haven’t fully explored, past ornate tapestries depicting hunting scenes and long-dead Corellian ancestors. The laughter comes again, higher-pitched this time—a child’s laugh, I realize with surprise. I didn’t know there were any children at the summer palace.
The door to what must be a nursery stands partially open, warm light spilling into the hallway. I approach cautiously, years of survival instincts making me wary even in this supposedly safe haven. Peering through the gap, I freeze at the sight before me.
