Chapter 29 #2
“Maybe, but he’d never take the throne.” I know that much, at least. “And neither would I,” I add, just in case Astrid isn’t sure where I stand.
Nodding, she loosens her hold on my arm and lets her fingers slide down to mine.
She lingers there long enough that I take my chance and grab hold of her hand, and though she glances at our hands, she doesn’t pull away as she meets my gaze.
“So if you and Hex decline, the next in line would be the Duke of Rensvik.”
“Yeah, but he signed away his right to the throne a decade ago in favor of pushing his son higher up the line.”
“I didn’t know that,” Astrid says, frowning now. “So Blackmere is eligible for election if you and your brother formally decline?”
With a groan, I run my hand through my hair again as I try not to imagine the sort of king he would be. “Now we know why he’s a part of this,” I grumble. “Helena Vardane has no shot at the throne, but he does.”
“Hear me out,” Astrid says, standing taller. “As soon as you—or Hex, to everyone else—started showing signs of discontent with the way things are, you caught the interest of the anti-royalists.”
“I caught the interest of Helena and Blackmere,” I correct. “You caught Greywick’s interest.”
She nods and squeezes my hand. “Greywick is working class. He has to be the middle man between the antis and the nobility, and I would guess his loyalty is with his own kind.”
I hum in agreement, and though I want to start pacing again to help me think, I’d rather keep holding Astrid’s hand. “The courier never said how I’m valuable, but he said you’re worth a lot to him.”
“So, I’m valuable when it comes to the regular Candoran people because I’m one of them, and you’re valuable to the nobility because you can take the throne if Freya isn’t in power.”
Nothing about that sentence makes me feel good about what we’ve been invited to, and I have to take a deep breath to keep my thoughts from spinning.
Betting on Hex being willing to usurp his sister’s position is a horrible political move, especially considering how most people perceive my brother.
Frivolous, carefree, at ease among people from all walks of life.
Regardless of how I portrayed him this last week, Hex’s involvement in a political coup would never be a guarantee.
“Lady Vardane wanted to test us tonight,” I say slowly, “and she sent Blackmere to ascertain my loyalty to you.”
“She didn’t look very happy about the result.” Astrid frowns. “But then you got the invitation…”
“It came from the opposite direction from where Helena was watching us. What if it didn’t come from her at all? From her perspective, you’re likely more of a liability than anything, so it doesn’t make sense for her to want you to be a part of her plan. Did the cards come from the same person?”
“The handwriting was the same.”
I nod. “And since half the information went directly to you, you’re clearly supposed to be a part of this, just like I am.”
Groaning, Astrid pinches the bridge of her nose and leans into me. “We can speculate all night, but we’re not going to know anything unless we go to that building in a couple of hours.”
I glance at the clock. It’s nearing midnight, which doesn’t leave us much time to prepare. “Do you think we should go?”
She sighs and looks up at me. “I think it would be a mistake not to, but if the anti-royalists invited us, we could be walking into a trap.”
“Or we’ve proved our value, like the courier said.”
“It’s dangerous either way. They’re holding all the cards.” But a thoughtful look enters her eyes, and she bites her lower lip as she thinks through something. “Almost all of them,” she corrects. “They think they’re dealing with Hex.”
I laugh, stuffing my hand into my hair. “I doubt it’ll make much of a difference which prince they get, Astrid.” In fact, Hex would be better suited for all of this, so I’ll just make everything worse.
“It will make a difference,” she argues and presses her palm to my cheek, freezing me completely. I don’t even breathe. “You may look like your brother, Sander, but there is no one I would rather have at my side tonight than you.”
I shake my head. “You don’t mean that. You barely know me. You know my bad impression of Hex. The man I was this week, he wasn’t—”
“You were more than the moments you acted like your brother.” Smiling, she rises onto her toes and brushes a kiss to my cheek, lingering there long enough that my thoughts stall for a second.
“You, Sander, are the man who calculates his shots to the millimeter and gives his opponent a fair chance. The man who is deliberate and controlled in everything he does. The man who would do anything for the people he cares about. The anti-royalists think they’re getting a discontented prince who jumps into things head first. Instead… ”
Instead, they’re getting me. I want to be that man Astrid described, but what if I fall short? What if I don’t have what it takes to help her and make sure she’s safe?
Astrid studies my face for a long time, and whatever she sees makes her huff out an exasperated sigh.
She digs into her pocket, then holds out two tiny earbuds.
One for each of us. As soon as we both have one in our ear, she says, “Callum, can you help me convince the prince that he is more skilled than he thinks?”
“Of all the people to doubt himself,” Callum says in his rich, Irish accent, “I wouldn’t have put you on the list, Sander.”
My mouth falls open. “Have you been listening this whole time?”
“No. I’ve known from the start.”
“How?”
“Better question: what are you two going to do about this meeting? I’m seeing a lot of activity in and out of the building.”
Activity can’t be a good sign. I look at Astrid, whose expression hardens as she reads my silent question.
“Come on,” she says and tugs me into the corridor and toward one of the exits. “If they’re already in motion, so should we be.”
“They’re not expecting us until two,” I remind her, as if she isn’t the one who told me that information. When we reach a side hallway, I pull Astrid in the direction of the armory; I’m not going anywhere without a gun in hand.
“We won’t find any more answers by waiting around for the next two hours,” she says with a shrug. “Might as well take control where we can. Anything else we need to know, Cal?”
“Sorry, Storme. I don’t have a close enough visual to tell you more.”
“That’s alright. We’ll scope things out and make a plan from there.”
We pause when we step outside into the courtyard, though I’m not sure which of us is the first to stop walking. I’m far calmer than I should be under the circumstances, and Astrid looks more determined than anything as she meets my gaze.
“We’re doing this,” I say, not quite a question but lacking the certainty I wish I had.
She lifts one side of her mouth into a sardonic smile. “Save the day or die trying?”
“Don’t say that,” I groan, then lean forward until my forehead touches hers. I close my eyes, memorizing this moment in case I don’t get another chance to be this close to her.
After a slow, deep breath, Astrid pulls away and presses her palm to my chest. “You with me, Sander?”
I tilt my head, matching her inhale. Maybe if I remind myself that I’m walking into this with one of the most talented people I know, I’ll be able to keep my head on straight and find the strength to do what needs to be done. “Always, Storme.”
“Please don’t die,” Callum adds.
And then we’re off.