Chapter 35
Astrid
Helena’s energy dims as the sun looms closer, her eyes darting around the city in search of the chaos she’s hoping for. “Where are they?” she asks no one in particular. “Where are the protestors?”
“Do you mean those protesters?” Blackmere asks calmly, gesturing with his head to the south end of the city.
Helena practically runs to the other end of the rooftop, and since my guard seems to want to see as much as she does, I’m dragged along as well. The four of us gather at the southeast corner, looking out over the cityscape toward the royal palace standing majestically atop a small hill.
Below, thousands of people stand in front of the gates, with hundreds more emerging from the city streets to join them.
Though many of them carry large signs and posters, they’re either silent or too quiet for us to hear them from this distance.
Despite the massive gathering, the silence is breathtaking.
“What is this?” Helena whispers as she stares at the crowd in horror. Her phone begins to ring, and she answers the call without tearing her eyes from the spectacle. “What?” she spits out as a greeting.
Crowell’s harried voice comes through the speaker loud enough that I hear every word.
“A Parliament-wide call went out from Grimstad twenty minutes ago, demanding that all members in residence in Invem gather at the palace. He’s saying the Palace Guard are ready to detain any of them who show aggression toward the protestors. ”
My grin grows. Sander, you beautiful man. He brought the Prime Minister into this.
Helena’s jaw tightens as she breathes in deep. “And? That has nothing to do with me.”
“He knows,” Crowell says darkly. “Grimstad knows you’ve been funding the antis and plotting treason.”
As my smile becomes impossible to contain, Helena snaps, “He couldn’t possibly know that! What did you tell him?”
“Nothing! But you—”
“I covered every trail,” Helena growls into the phone. “Wiped every trace. The only proof he’ll find is what I left behind to implicate my idiot husband.”
“So you did want to take his title,” I say, still grinning because how could I not?
The people have their chance to express their discontent without anyone getting hurt, and Helena just confessed to one major crime.
Now to get proof for everything else. “I wondered if that was part of your lackluster plan.”
“Lackluster?” she splutters, turning on me.
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to remove an incompetent monarch when most of her platform benefits the lower classes? When few people in the House of Lords are willing to delay or block her proposed reforms because they’re afraid to lose their seats if they oppose her? ”
I bite my lip. “No, I don’t. You should tell me all about what you’ve had to do to get here.”
She growls, the sound harried and frantic. “This is what I get for relying on the simpleminded masses to do my dirty work! Power only comes to those willing to take it for themselves.”
“Power should never be gained through the suffering of others,” I argue. “Freya understands that better than anyone, but you want to exploit the people she loves so you can shape Candora to your own vision.”
“Of course I do!” Helena snaps. “Candora thrived when the people were led by those who know better than them, and I will do anything it takes to restore proper order, no matter how many casualties.”
“There it is,” a familiar voice says in my ear, and I nearly melt with relief. I had no idea if I was connected to my phone, and hearing Callum is the sign I’ve been waiting for. “Nice work, Storme.”
“You lied,” the guard says before I can say anything. His voice is quiet, but there’s a dangerous edge to it as he glares at Helena. Releasing me, he lifts his gun to point it at Helena with a confident hand. “You never wanted to help us.”
Scoffing, Helena stalks toward him despite the gun aimed at her. “Don’t be a fool,” she snarls. “Kill me, and you don’t get paid.”
His hand lowers just a little bit, but that hesitation is enough.
Helena grabs the gun at the same time she lunges for me.
Her fingers wrap around my arm, and though her grip would be easy to break free from, the sharp press of metal in my ribcage holds me still.
She’d pull the trigger faster than I’d ever be able to move. “This is your fault.”
Trying to keep my breathing steady, I run through my options.
The guard is scowling at Helena and looks like he might try to rescue me, but I hope he’s smart enough to stay back.
Blackmere stands frozen, one hand reaching toward me like he tried to come to my aid before he saw the placement of the gun.
For the first time, worry wrinkles his forehead as he stares at the pair of us.
“You used to work for the queen,” Helena hisses in my ear. “You’re going to swear to her that I’m innocent.”
She’s talking right into my earbud. For how much work she put in to get this far, I almost feel bad for her.
“Agents are on their way, Storme,” Callum says. “Stall as long as you can.” He doesn’t know there’s a gun in play, and I can’t have agents storming the rooftop and spooking Helena into pulling the trigger.
“Or what?” I say, unable to hide the tremor in my voice. For all the bravado I’m displaying, the fear in my voice is real. “You’ll shoot me on the roof?”
Callum swears. “Noted. Alerting the team—please don’t get shot.”
Helena pushes the gun deeper into my ribs. “Who do you think you are, Storme? Just because you stood behind the queen for a time and caught the eye of a silly prince, you think you’re someone special?”
“Course not.” My breaths are shallow, each one a painful reminder of the danger I’m in. “I’m just a loyal citizen like everyone else down in that protest, looking out for my fellow Candorans because that’s what this country is built on.” I hiss in pain when the gun digs into me.
The guard takes a step forward, but I shake my head at him. Helena is using me as a shield, and all she has to do is squeeze her finger. At point blank, I don’t think I’d survive.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Helena snarls, tightening her grip on my wrist. “You and I are…” She trails off as a soft whistled melody fills the air, spinning us both to face the new arrival.
Sander. Relief wars with the fear making my heart pound in my chest. He’s never looked more beautiful as he approaches, still whistling an old Candoran lullaby.
With his hands in his pockets and his gait slow and smooth, he looks calm and casual, but that fire inside him is blazing.
There is nothing calm about this man as he takes in the scene with keen eyes, lingering on the gun pressed to my side.
“That’s close enough,” Helena warns with another jab to my ribs.
Sander stops and pulls his hands free, leaving them hanging at his sides. “Morning,” he drawls. “Lovely day for a peaceful protest, don’t you think?” His eyes meet mine, a clear question in them: You alright?
I’ve been better, I mouth.
“How?” Helena asks and jerks her head in the direction of the palace. “That was never part of the plan.”
“You underestimated Rowen,” Sander says with a shrug. “That was always part of the plan, in case someone like you tried to turn his group into something they’re not.”
“They tried to murder your sister!”
He shakes his head. “The shooters last year were extremists and had nothing to do with Rowen’s organization.
” He slowly reaches behind his back, then lifts a loaded gun and points it at us.
Helena tenses, fingernails digging into the skin at my wrist, but Sander’s careful not to make any sudden movements.
“It’s over, Helena. Your husband’s in custody and happily detailing your illegal activity, and the RIA heard everything you’ve said this morning.
Unless you’d like to add attempted murder to the charges against you, I suggest you let Miss Storme go.
” His stance changes, his hands growing steadier around the gun.
“Or you can choose the painful route and take a bullet.”
Helena laughs sharply. “You won’t shoot me. Not when you could miss and hit her.” She gives me a little shake as she shifts to be more fully hidden behind me.
Sander smirks. “I never miss.”
Helena’s taller than me, so she’s crouched down, and she’s also broader in the shoulders. If I can give Sander an opening…
Meeting his gaze, I mouth, I trust you, and look down and to my left, shifting my left foot as well so he understands which direction I’ll move.
Though he swallows, the first sign of anxiety he’s had since appearing on the roof, he dips his head in the smallest acknowledgement and firms his grip.
I watch him breathe. Once. Twice. He adjusts his aim, and on his third breath, I ready myself.
The instant he exhales, I dip my right shoulder down and twist my torso away from the gun at my ribs at the same time Sander fires.
Helena screams and drops her weapon. I kick it across the cement as I tear my arm free and leap toward Sander, snatching a second gun he holds out for me—my gun.
“Storme!” Callum shouts in my earbud.
Breathing heavily, I return to Helena’s side and point the weapon at her as she sits against the wall, grasping her bleeding shoulder.
“We’re going to need a paramedic,” I tell Callum breathlessly.
“Suspect has been wounded in an altercation with a Prince of Candora.” I tilt my head as I meet Helena’s seething gaze. “I’d say it’s superficial.”
Swearing, Callum lets out a few muffled words before he gasps, “Don’t scare me like that, Storme. My heart can’t take it.”
“Then you picked the wrong profession,” Sander says with a chuckle. His eyes meet mine when I look over at him, and for a moment the world comes to a stop. All I can see is him, from his relieved smile to his glistening blue eyes, to the tremble in his hand as he limply holds his gun at his side.