Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(51)

For the first time, a bit of anger flickered in Helene’s eyes. “You’re blaming me for that? You’re the one who ran off and joined a gladiator troupe. I had no idea when—or if—you were coming back. So, yes, Frederich took pity on me, and we started spending time together. Of course my father saw that as an opportunity to convince Heinrich that I should marry Frederich.”

“Until my father decided to break your engagement and marry Frederich to Vasilia to secure a treaty with the Bellonans,” Sullivan said. “That must have been a bitter pill for you and especially your father to swallow.”

She shook her head. “My father was furious, of course, but I was relieved. Frederich was a dear friend, but I never wanted to marry him. There’s only one prince at Glitnir that I have ever truly wanted.”

Helene stared at him, making it clear he was that chosen prince. She stretched out her hand toward him again, but Sullivan shook his head and stepped even farther away from her.

“I have work to do.”

She arched an eyebrow. “For the Bellonan queen? I saw you speaking with her outside the throne room. She seems quite fond of you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you jealous?”

She shrugged. “Of course. She is a queen, after all.”

I grimaced. If she only knew that I’d been locked in my room and was witnessing her trying to seduce the one man I couldn’t have. I doubted she would be so jealous then.

“I don’t care what kind of relationship you have with Queen Everleigh,” Helene declared. “I don’t care if you are just her advisor, or if you’re cooing sweet nothings in her ear, or if you’re fucking her every single night. None of that matters to me. It’s just the business of being a noble.”

“Maybe I don’t like that kind of business,” he growled.

She let out an amused laugh. “Like it or not, it’s the business you were born into, and it’s the one you’ll be in until the day you die. Just like me. So we might as well make the best of it—together.”

Helene stepped forward. Sullivan started to move away from her again, but she reached out and grabbed his gray coat, holding him in place.

She stared up at him, her face serious. “The only thing I care about is what kind of relationship you and I can have moving forward. I’ve never stopped loving you, Lucas. And now that my father is dead, I am the head of my family, and I can marry whomever I like. So think about that, and especially that night you remember fucking me so well while you’re serving—and servicing—your new queen.”

She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, leaving a red, heart-shaped stain behind on his skin. Sullivan stood rock-still, although his hands were clenched into fists, as though he was trying to keep himself from yanking her into his arms.

More hurt flooded my heart, but I couldn’t blame Sullivan for his reaction. He’d made no promises to me. Quite the opposite. And he had loved Helene, perhaps even loved her still.

Helene stepped back. She waited a moment, clearly hoping that Sullivan would reach for her. But when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to, she headed back inside the palace.

Sullivan watched her go with a desperate, hungry look on his face that wounded me far more than Helene’s words and innuendos had.

After several seconds, he let out a long, tense breath, scrubbed his hand through his hair, and strode away in the opposite direction. He stepped back inside the palace and disappeared from sight, but I remained frozen in place on the balcony, wishing that I had stayed inside my chambers. Wishing that I had never heard what had happened between Sullivan and Helene, especially how much he had loved her.

But I wasn’t the only one who’d been watching them.

A glimmer of glass caught my eye, and I looked to my left. Another balcony curved out from the third floor about a hundred feet away from mine. A woman was standing there, sipping a drink.

Dahlia, Sullivan’s mother.

Well, now I knew who the mysterious D was. Dahlia must have ordered the refreshments to be set up on my balcony. As the king’s mistress, she could easily do that. I appreciated her small kindness, although I was mortified that she had caught me spying on her son and Helene.

But Dahlia seemed amused by the awkward situation, and she smiled and gave me a friendly wave before disappearing back inside her chambers. I wondered at her benign reaction, but I had no way to interpret what it meant. I would have to ask Serilda, Cho, and Xenia what they knew about Sullivan’s mother.

Either way, my appetite had vanished, and I set my lemonade glass on the table with the remaining treats. I started to head back inside my chambers when a shadow fell over me. A second later, a loud thump sounded on the balcony behind me, along with the sharp, distinctive scrape-scrape-scrape of claws against stone.

My breath caught in my throat, but I dropped my hand to my sword and forced myself to turn around slowly and not to make any sudden movements.

A gargoyle stood on the balcony.

Paloma had been wrong. I wasn’t safe in my chambers.

I’d already had my heart broken, and now I was in danger of being eaten alive.





Chapter Twelve


The gargoyle was about the size of a large dog, although much thicker and more compact, and far more dangerous.

It was made of solid gray stone and had a rough, weathered texture, although its skin seemed strangely flexible. Two horns sprouted up from its forehead, while jagged teeth curved up and out of its mouth. The sharp, daggerlike points on its horns and teeth matched the ones on the black talons that protruded from its paws, and its long tail ended in a single, deadly arrow-shaped stone.