Weapon. Grab a weapon.
Jade forced the thought through her swirling head and gripped her gun at her side. If she could scare Reynauld enough with the sight of the gun, that would be ideal. If not, she was prepared to shoot near him and hopefully buy time for an escape. She wouldn’t kill Reynauld, being the heir to the throne whom she was duty-bound to protect.
Trying to explain that she was an espionage agent on his side didn’t sound like a helpful strategy either. The hostility pouring from Reynauld’s expression told her he was willing to act first and ask questions later.
Jade raised her weapon, pointing it to the side of the prince. But she wobbled and staggered as her head reeled and pinpricks of light dotted the darkness. Before she even realized too much time was passing, the gun was knocked from her hand. When had Reynauld gotten so close again?
The force of the blow sent her staggering, and with Reynauld’s next swipe of the knife, Jade lost her balance and again toppled to the floor. On instinct, she reached for a knife of her own, but Reynauld’s slippered foot crushed her wrist before she unsheathed it from her boot.
He leaned over her, his own inflexibility preventing him from getting too close, but Jade didn’t mistake the pure loathing in his scowl as he pressed the tip of his blade to her neck.
“Mark my words: I will ensure that your employer never wins. I’ll kill him all over again before I let him take my throne.”
The blade’s sharp point dug into the tender space where Jade’s jaw met her neck, and she gritted her teeth as it pierced her skin and blood soaked into the fabric of her mask. But the knife didn’t travel further. Reynauldstopped, as though something held his hand back, but only for a moment before the hilt of a gun slammed into his head.
Jade’s breath caught. Had the intruder been Theo after all? Maybe he had heard Reynauld’s shouts and come for her.
But the man in black behind Reynauld wasn’t Theo. The unconscious prince fell to the floor beside Jade to reveal the last person she expected to see.
Nicolas.
Thirty-Three
Nicolas kneeled beside Jade, liftingthe bottom edge of her mask to examine her wound. Concern and hatred fought for dominance over his features, his brow knitted and his jaw clenched.
“What are you doing here?” Jade asked in a shocked whisper.
He didn’t answer, continuing to check her for injuries. His gloved hand grazed the bleeding cut on her left arm where Reynauld’s knife had sliced her, and Jade hissed.
“How’s your head?” Nicolas ran a gentle thumb along her forehead before reaching his fingers around to the back of her head, apparently feeling for blood.
“Getting better,” she lied. Though Jade still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that he was here. Maybe that came along with theconfusion of the blow.
Nicolas removed his hand as he rocked back on his heels. “Can you stand?”
Jade nodded and lifted herself off the floor with the help of Nicolas, one of his hands holding an elbow and the other grasping her opposing hand. She got to her feet, but her head swam again, and she took a couple of unsteady steps back.
“Easy,” he whispered, releasing her hand to grasp her waist and help her regain her balance. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The pressure of his hand on her waist took Jade back to the masquerade ball all over again, and a flutter rippled through her abdomen with the memory. But she banished the thought, coming back to her senses enough to reply, “I’ll be fine.”
Nicolas’s face had drawn close to hers—too close. The lamplight only illuminated his most prominent features, including his lips. Jade caught herself staring at them and lifted her gaze, hoping she could play it off as disorientation. She met his eyes, even darker when bathed in shadow, giving them a strange, malevolent quality.
But when he spoke, the impression shifted, and his eyes softened with a tenderness that Jade had seen the last time she was in the bunker with him. “We have to get out of here. Reynauld won’t stay out cold for long.”
Jade glanced at the unconscious man at her feet. The blow with the gun hadn’t been hard enough to leave a mark but was just enough force and perfectly positioned to knock the prince out. The phantom stab of his knife against her throat sent Jade’s hand to the wound. What had he said? Something about killing her employer? So Reynauld thought she was the assassin, sent to kill him by someone seeking the throne.
“Let’s go.” Nicolas pulled her from her thoughts, handing her gun back to her.
Jade returned it to her holster and turned her mind to their escape. “What about the guards? They’re all over the grounds.”
“Stay close to me.” He grabbed her gloved hand to urge her forward, then picked up the lamp she’d left on the table.
The world spun, and Jade stumbled as she followed his lead to the secret passage behind the bookshelf, but his grip on her hand kept her steady. He whipped his head around to her, wordlessly checking on her, but Jade shook her head. “Don’t worry, I’m all right.”
With a quick nod, he stepped onto the top of the passage’s staircase. Jade pulled the false door closed behind them, and she followed the light of the lamp down the spiraling staircase, praying she kept her footing the whole way down. But when they reached the tunnel, she still felt like she was rotating, and the walls closed in around her. Nicolas must have noticed, because his grip on her hand tightened. Even so, her previously dislocated shoulder ran into the stone wall and bounced off, sending a bolt of pain down her arm. Jade sucked in a breath through her teeth as Nicolas stopped and laced her left arm over his shoulders, supporting her with his arm around her waist.
“Keep going, Jade. We’ve got to make it off the estate.”
