Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(33)

Stubbornness ran in our entire family.

“We’ll wait until the furor’s died down over Grandfather’s hospitalization. Maybe another month or two. You know how the news cycle is these days. It’ll be old news by then. We’ll keep the engagement a secret until then too. Elin’s already working on a press statement and plan, and—”

“Wait.” I held up one hand. “Elin already knows?”

A pink flush stole over Nikolai’s cheekbones when he realized his mistake. “I had to—”

“Who else knows?” Thud. Thud. Thud. My heart sounded abnormally loud to my ears. I wondered if I had a heart condition too, like my grandfather. I also wondered what would happen if Nikolai abdicated and I died right there in the saddle. “Who else did you tell before me?”

I bit out the words. Each one tasted bitter, coated with betrayal.

“Just Elin, Grandfather, and Markus. I had to tell them.” Nikolai didn’t back down from my glare. “Elin and Markus have to get out in front of this, politically and press-wise. They need time.”

A wild laugh emerged from my throat. I’d never made such a feral sound in my life, and my brother flinched at the sound.

“They need time? I need time, Nik!” Freedom. Love. Choice. Things I’d already had so little of, gone forever. Or they would be after Nikolai officially announced his abdication. “I need the two-and-a-half decades you’ve already had, preparing you for the throne. I need not to feel like an afterthought in a decision that’ll change my entire life. I need…” I need to get out of here.

Otherwise, I might do something crazy, like punch my brother in the face.

I’d never punched a person before, but I’d watched enough movies to get the gist.

Instead of finishing my sentence, I urged my horse into a canter, then a full-on gallop. Breathe. Just breathe.

“Bridget, wait!”

I ignored Nikolai’s shout and spurred the horse faster until the trees whizzed by in a blur.

Bridget, I’m abdicating.

His words echoed in my head, taunting me.

I had never, not once in my life, entertained the possibility Nikolai wouldn’t take over the throne. He’d wanted to be king. Everyone had wanted him to be king. He’d been ready.

Me? I didn’t think I’d ever be ready.

When did Nikolai propose to Sabrina? How long had everyone known? Was his planned abdication part of the reason for Grandfather’s collapse?

I didn’t remember seeing an engagement ring on Sabrina’s finger at the hospital, but if they were keeping it under wraps until the announcement, she wouldn’t be wearing one.

I was in the dark about something that affected me more than anyone except Nikolai, and I was so consumed by my inner turmoil I didn’t notice the low-hanging branch speeding toward me until it was too late.

Pain exploded on my forehead. I fell off my horse and landed on the ground with a hard thud, and the last thing I remembered seeing was the storm clouds roll in overhead before darkness swallowed me whole.





12





Rhys





I sensed trouble before I even entered the palace’s reception hall, where I heard Prince Nikolai talking in low murmurs. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and though I couldn’t make out what Bridget’s brother was saying, the stressed pitch of his voice set alarms blaring in my head.

My boots squeaked against the reception hall’s overly polished marble floors, and Nikolai fell silent. He stood in the middle of the soaring two-story space next to Elin and Viggo, the Deputy Head of Royal Security. I’d memorized every staff member’s face and name so I would notice if anyone tried to sneak in by disguising themselves as a palace employee.

I gave the group a curt nod. “Your Highness.”

“Mr. Larsen.” Nikolai responded with a regal nod of his own. “I trust you’re enjoying your day off?”

Since the palace was so heavily guarded, I was off the clock when Bridget was at home, which was most days since her grandfather’s hospitalization. It felt strange. I was so used to being by her side twenty-four-seven I…

You do not miss her. I dismissed the ridiculous idea before it became a fully formed thought.

“It’s been fine.” I’d tried drawing again, but I hadn’t gotten much further than a few lines on paper. I ran out of creativity, inspiration—whatever you call it—months ago, and today had been my first time picking up my sketchbook since.

I’d needed something to occupy my hands and mind.

Something that wasn’t five-nine with the face of an angel and curves that would fit perfectly beneath my palms.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

I hardened my jaw, determined not to fantasize about my fucking client in front of her brother. Or ever.

“Where’s Princess Bridget?” According to her schedule, she was supposed to be horseback riding with Nikolai. But the skies looked ready to pour, so I assumed they’d called it a day early.

Nikolai exchanged glances with Elin and Viggo, and the needle on my trouble radar inched closer to the red zone.

“I’m sure Her Highness is somewhere in the palace,” Viggo said. He was a short, heavyset man with a ruddy face and a passing resemblance to a Scandinavian Danny DeVito. “We’re looking for her as we speak.”