He hesitated, knowing if she asked him to stay again, not even the gods could make him leave. Kneeling again, he peered under the bed. “What is it?”
“Keep Vivian safe.”
The whispered words cracked something within him, and it took all he had to nod.
Roman plucked the section of bed skirt out from under the mattress, stood, glamoured himself and Violet to be invisible, and bolted from the room, locking the door on his way out. He knew his glamour wouldn’t hold all the way to the training arena where Vivian should be, but it should stretch at least to the palace walls. The last he’d tested his glamour’s strength, he could glamour the entire palace and courtyard, but not beyond. At some point he would be too far away from Violet for his magic to keep her hidden, and he cursed himself as he raced down the wide staircase.
Glamour training had always interested him the least, and he put most of his focus into the political and battle aspects of his training. He wanted to slam his fist into a wall at his own stupidity.
As Roman ran through the halls, he noticed guards methodically moving from room to room, calling out as they cleared each one. “Did any rebels make it inside the palace?” Roman asked a guard nearest the palace entrance.
The middle-aged woman bowed. “No, Your Grace. Only a handful of rebels made it over the walls, and we dealt with them.” As if hearing the woman’s words, the alarms stopped.
Roman offered his thanks and jogged outside, pulling up short to stare, perplexed, at the small number of dead bodies being dragged into a pile. In the distance, guards knocked on every cottage in the warrior compound, clearing every home and ensuring the people’s safety.
The bodies littering the pristine pink grass were easy to identify as rebels by their black-market weapons and armor. They weren’t poor quality, per se, but they were made from scraps of various metals melted together. The crown monitored steel, iron, and other precious metals, and rebels had to smuggle scraps or use things like old iron stoves to make what little weapons they had.
As he surveyed the bodies, his confusion grew. It made little sense to send so few fighters into a palace crawling with guards and warriors. The plan reeked of decoy, but for what? Rebels caused chaos in attempts to cause unrest in the citizens by proving that the royals couldn’t protect them. It never worked because Roman’s parentsdidprotect their people, and they protected them well.
The only other aim would be to kill the royals, and seeing as there were only three, Roman and his two parents, all of whom could handle a rebel with one hand tied behind their backs, the simplicity of the attack confused him further.
He scanned the courtyard and warrior compound for his parents. They were likely already discussing the attack with their council.
Frustrated, he stalked off toward the palace gates. Palace security was unmatched, and the top of the palace walls had spikes embedded in them four years ago after the queen of the Mountain Kingdom was murdered. Rebels had snuck over their walls and killed her in the palace garden.
Roman had never seen the Mountain Palace’s walls, but his father said they should have been impossible to climb. The next day, modifications on the Tropical Palace walls began.
Rebels should not have been able to infiltrate their courtyard today.
“Where are you?”War’s voice demanded, breaking into Roman’s spiraling thoughts.
“I’m on my way to the arena to find Vivian.”
“Vivian and the other trainees are well protected,”War assured him.
Roman knew that, but if one of his parents happened to be at the arena and knew he didn’t check on Viv, he’d never hear the end of it, otherwise, he’d still be in his bedroom.“Violet is hiding under my bed. Will you stay with her until I can return?”
“I’ll take care of Violet,”War promised.“Stay on guard. The attack could have been a distraction.”
Roman cut the connection and jogged toward the palace gates. He feared the same thing.
* * *
He left me,was allViolet could think as she laid shaking under the bed. Roman had responsibilities as the prince, especially to his mate, she knew that, but she couldn’t help feeling abandoned.
A loud bang sounded on the door to Roman’s rooms, and Violet’s lungs seized.Please be a guard doing room checks.Seconds later, the sound of wood splintering made her jump, and two sets of heavy footsteps clomped through the sitting room. Guards wouldn’t break down the door, would they? She didn’t know the protocol for the royal quarters. It would make sense to not give anyone a master key, but breaking down the door? No. Something’s wrong.
Violet covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.This can’t be happening.
Heavy footfalls made their way into the bedroom, and Violet concentrated on keeping her breathing as quiet as possible.
“Kincaid said the prince took ill this morning,” a scratchy voice said.
“He’s not in his bed, but the bedding is still rumpled. Check every room,” said the other as a door banged open. These men weren’t very bright. Breaking down a door and stomping around in the loudest way possible would have alerted Roman to their presence immediately. If hewerehere, he would have killed them.
After a few minutes of banging around the other rooms, the men returned to the bedroom. When two worn black leather boots appeared next to Violet’s head, she sucked down a gasp and tried to creep backward toward the headboard.
“He’s not here.” The bed dipped, followed by an exasperated sigh and the sound of Roman’s bedside drawer opening. “We outta see if there’s anything expensive that’s small enough to carry.”
