He scans my face. His hand tightens on my thigh. “Right now? I want to ditch this party and show you something.”
“We can’t leave our own reception,” I laugh, lacing my fingers with his.
“We can, and we will.” His smile is conspiratorial, and I find myself returning it. It’s easy to smile with him. “Come on.”
His hand is warm in mine as we cross the hall. But when we reach the center of the dance floor, a guard stops us, speaking to Zev in a hushed whisper, too low for me to make out.
A deep sigh escapes Zev, and he glares at the table where his brother is seated. “I’ll be right back,” he says, jaw clenched tight, before marching to Faramir’s table.
Everything happens quickly after that.
Chapter Thirty
AsZevdisappearsintothe crowd, a large group of servants walks past, arms laden with trays stacked with empty plates.
There’s a loud shout behind me. I’ve barely turned—
The distinctwhooshof metal whistling through air.
An ear-splitting shatter as fine ceramic meets hard marble.
Something large barrels into me.
A sharp crack—my head slams into the floor.
A heavy weight bears down on my body, compressing my lungs.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move.
Something wet seeps through my gown, warm and thick.
“MAYAH!”
Screaming nobles. Low, frantic mutters and high-pitched wails.
“The princess!”
Frenzied sounds of thudding boots and clacking heels.
“Seize him!” Command steeped with manic rage.
My head throbs.
Chaos.
“Mayah!” Zev’s panicked voice echoes closer.
There’s someone lying atop me. Zev rolls him off with a low grunt.
My husband exhales a loud string of curses.
The front of my turquoise gown is drenched with bright, red blood.
“Mayah,fuck. Say something.” He’s kneeling beside me, fingers carefully pressing over my abdomen, coming back stained with gruesome red. His hands are steady, but he can’t conceal the storm in his eyes.
“It’s not mine,” I rasp, sitting up. The back of my head throbs like someone took an ice chisel to it. Zev narrows his eyes at me, but my focus is on the servant who collapsed on top of me, the man Zev rolled off.
The attacker’s aim was true. But the servant walked by at the right—or wrong—moment.
