Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(103)

“I truly thought that you were different,” Sullivan said in a harsh, accusing voice. “I truly thought that titles and power and what other people think didn’t matter to you.”

“And now?” I asked the inevitable question, knowing his answer would crush my heart.

He let out a low, bitter laugh. “And now I realize that I’m the one who doesn’t matter to you. Not in the slightest.” His face hardened, and his eyes glittered like ice. “I hope that you enjoy your marriage to Dominic, Your Majesty.”

He pressed his fist to his heart and gave me a low, mocking bow. Then he straightened up, whirled around, and stalked away. I watched him leave the gazebo, cross the grass, and disappear into the hedge maze. The sharp snap-snap-snap-snap of his boots against the flagstones felt like knives ripping into my heart, slicing it to shreds.

I waited until the sound of his footsteps had faded away and I was sure he wasn’t coming back before I spoke again.

“You can come out now.”

For several seconds, nothing happened, but then a figure wearing a midnight-purple cloak stepped out of a pool of shadows close to the hedge maze.

And she wasn’t alone.

Several more figures, also wearing dark cloaks, slipped out of the shadows as well. The figures surrounded the gazebo, then drew back their hoods. I didn’t recognize their faces, but they all had the same purplish eyes.

They were all members of the Bastard Brigade.

The woman in the purple cloak glided forward and stepped into the gazebo. She waited a moment, making sure that I wasn’t going to attack her, then reached up and flicked back her hood, revealing her face.

Blond hair sleeked back into a high, elegant bun, dark, amethyst eyes, a smug smile creasing her beautiful features. She looked the same as when I had seen her through the Cardea mirror at Seven Spire.

“Hello, Maeven. I was wondering when you were going to show yourself.”

“Hello, Everleigh. You’re looking particularly lovely tonight.” Her gaze pointedly flicked over my still-tangled hair and rumpled gown. “Illicit affairs suit you.”

My hands clenched into fists, but I forced myself to stand still and not rise to her obvious bait. “I see you brought some more of your charming relatives with you.”

Maeven gave a not-so-modest shrug, then waved her hand. “Take her.”

The assassins rushed forward and converged on me. I braced myself, thinking they were going to blast me with their magic, but they swarmed me instead.

I fought back, of course, punching, hitting, and kicking with all my might. But there was nothing that I could do. Not against so many of them.

I landed a few blows, but multiple sets of hands quickly latched onto my arms, holding me still. A fist zoomed forward and snapped into my face. Pain exploded in my jaw, and the world went black.





Chapter Twenty-Three


Ansel dragged my mother into the woods, and my mother dragged me along behind her. Together, the three of us formed a human chain, running away from Winterwind.

Yells rang out from the manor house in the distance, and I looked back over my shoulder. Through the trees, I spotted men armed with swords and torches pouring out of the kitchen door that we had come through a minute ago.

“Where is the Blair bitch?”

“We have to find her!”

“No one escapes!”

Their shouts tore through the air, and it was only a matter of time before they found our footprints in the snow and chased after us.

But once again, Ansel didn’t appear to be concerned. Even more curious was the fact that my tutor seemed to know exactly where he was going, even though I’d never seen him so much as walk out here before. We moved deeper and deeper into the woods, and the shouts of the Mortan assassins quickly faded away.

Five minutes later, we ran into a small clearing. To my surprise, two horses laden down with saddlebags were tied to a tree. My heart lifted. We were going to escape after all.

But then I noticed that these weren’t two random horses. One was a black stallion that belonged to Ansel, while the gray mare was my mother’s mount. I frowned. How had they gotten out of the barn and all the way back here?

My mother sucked in a surprised breath, and she stopped and let go of Ansel’s hand, along with mine. My tutor hurried over to his horse and stuck my father’s sword into a saddlebag, then turned back around to us.

“What’s wrong? We have to leave,” Ansel hissed. “Now! Before they find us!”

“Why are these horses waiting here?” my mother whispered, voicing my thought.

Ansel opened his mouth, but my mother snapped up her hand. He bit back whatever he’d been about to say, but I could smell his garlic guilt. He reeked of it.

My mother stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. “You planned this,” she accused. “You knew that the Mortans were going to attack Winterwind. That’s why you had the horses waiting. So you could escape.”

Ansel stalked over and grabbed her hands, squeezing them tight in his. “So we could escape, Leighton. I did it for you.”

“But . . . why?” my mother asked in confusion.

Ansel stared at her, a strange, bright, almost fanatical light flashing in his eyes. This time, instead of garlic guilt, the stench of his cherry lust filled the clearing. The scent made me want to vomit.