Page 8 of Consume Me

“I have a plan in place,” I snapped, slightly insulted that he thought so little of me. “I sent Norris with her. He followed protocol and maintained contact until he went radio silent.”

“That’s the problem. You followed protocol. In case of emergency, the Queen is evacuated, correct?”

“Of course.”

“Like the day of the Child Watch attack?” He’d found the piece of the puzzle that fit and it made the haphazard ones suddenly fall into place.

“We didn’t know why the symposium was attacked,” Brex said. “No one was hurt. What was the point?”

“It wasn’t an attack.” The room spun for a moment as I realized what we’d been missing.

“It was a dress rehearsal.” Georgia slammed a fist onto the table, but none of us jumped. We didn’t have any surprise left in us.

We’d considered every angle regarding the explosion at the Child Watch symposium my wife had attended in January, but now it seemed obvious. Whoever was behind it—behind this—hadn’t been looking to hurt anyone. My wife had been a target, but not in the way I’d thought.

“But we didn’t follow protocol,” Brex pointed out.

“Because Clara was being stubborn, and then you showed up.” Georgia pointed a finger at me.

I had arrived that day only moments after the first bomb had detonated. I’d come as soon as I heard there was possible danger—and someone had noticed.

“Fuck,” I roared. I’d handed them all the information they needed: who I trusted, who surrounded me and my family, and how I would react if my wife was in danger.

“They needed to keep you occupied,” Smith said.

“So they poisoned my grandmother.” It made sense in a twisted way. I’d gone with her automatically, trained to respond to my family’s needs in the way I’d been bred for.

“But what about Clara and the medication? I don’t see how that fits,” Brex admitted.

“They’re thumbing their noses at us.” Georgia laughed humourlessly. “There will be an inquisition into Mary’s death. The doctor knows that Clara handled the pills. Basically, they’re sending a giant fuck you. They know we can’t hide that Clara’s gone and what are people going to think?”

“She didn’t have anything to do with my grandmother’s death.” Anger rose hot inside me and squeezed my heart. It was ridiculous to even consider the possibility.

“But how will it look when she doesn’t respond or agree to questioning?”

“They want us to admit that she’s gone.”

“But without proof, people will think…” Brex trailed away as though deciding it wasn’t worth it to point out the obvious.

“That she’s guilty.” It was a brilliant maneuver that had been played so subtly. I hadn’t seen it for what it was. Now, though, all the mechanisms were clear. Someone had set up these events like a string of dominoes. How many had yet to fall?

“Maybe we can spin it to our advantage,” Smith said.

“How?” Georgia asked. It was a damn good question.

“Let the scandal unfold. Claim the Queen is horrified. Leak stories to the media about how she won’t leave the house,” he suggested.

“The public will crucify her,” Brex said.

“But their focus will stay on that.” I was beginning to see where he was going with this. I didn’t like it, especially given what it meant for my role in this.

“You’re going to have to distract them, Poor Boy, and let us go to work,” Brex said, sounding apologetic.

“That’s why we’re here.” I gestured to the same around us. “You three can move about freely, but my own movements will be watched.”

“Aren’t the King’s moves always analysed?” Georgia said dryly.

“Thankfully, this isn’t a chess match. We’ve been at war before and the Royal family was prepared.” Moving to the bulletin board I pressed a spot where an invisible button offered a solution to my problem. In the corner, the tile floor dropped an inch and slid open to reveal a staircase that led down.