12. Chapter Twelve - Leigh
The sizzling of eggs and the aroma of breakfast fill the palace’s poorly lit kitchen, though the comforting scents do nothing to quell my troubled thoughts.
With the spatula poised in my hand, I replay last night’s Council meeting, grappling with the unsettling absence of Janus.
Gianna slumps at the bar, her head cradled in her hands, topaz eyes glued to me, radiating concern and curiosity.
Exhaustion crushes me as I replay Janus’s last-minute cancelation—which happened just moments before everything plunged into darkness.
It was too perfect, too convenient.
As president, she controls every shred of classified information, and the thought of her feeding it to our enemies, particularly Stellan, tightens my throat.
Could Janus betray me after what transpired against us?
I never intended to poison her.
But the pieces align too neatly—she could easily exploit this chaos to turn the people against me while projecting the composed, trustworthy leader they crave.
Gods, I loathe how paranoid I sound, but in the treacherous game of politics, coincidences rarely exist.
The palace generator hums in the background, bleakly reminding me that while we have backup power, most of the city remains engulfed in darkness.
Due to the blackout, I gave most of the staff the day off to tend to their families, leaving me alone to tackle breakfast.
It’s a task I am woefully unqualified for.
“Are you sure you don’t want some help?” Gianna asks.
I face her, the apron secured around my waist flowing around my legs.
“I told you; I am cooking your breakfast.”
“It looks like you’re making enough to feed an army,” Gi remarks while surveying the spread of eggs, toast, sausages, and hash browns.
“I might have invited a few friends,” I admit, prodding the eggs with the spatula.
“Does this look done to you?”
My father’s ghost sighs in exasperation.
I’ve failed you , he jokes.
One of Gi’s sculpted eyebrows shoots up.
“Who did you invite?”
Before I can answer, a voice cuts through the kitchen.
“Is something burning?”
I turn to meet Bennett’s puzzled stare, and my eyes widen.
“Shit! The toast!”
I rush to the sizable multi-slice toaster.
Smoke billows from its slots.
I choke on the scent of charred bread.
With wooden tongs, I remove a piece as black as graphite.
“I am not eating that,” Gianna says.
“I thought charcoal was good for you?” I tease just as the eggs begin to furiously sizzle on the stove.
Bennett reaches the pan before I do, taking the eggs off the burner before they become inedible.
He empties the pan onto a plate, cracking pepper over the eggs, and then turns his focus on the sausages and hash browns.
His every movement is flawless with expertise.
I watch him, my mouth nearly agape.
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
During our relationship, Bennett never offered to cook for me, but it makes sense, given that we both have staff available.
“My parents loved to cook,” Bennett explains as he plates the hash browns.
I nod, a twinge of guilt aching in my chest.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, my mother refused to let anyone in her kitchen, though she usually burned everything, like you.” Bennett laughs, his eyes distant with memory.
Bennett’s wistful tone tugs at my heartstrings, tempting me to abandon my original plan.
I had asked him to breakfast to get him to tell me about his connection to Corvina, but now I hesitate.
Are they simply friends, or is there something more between them?
Bennett’s lie about Corvina haunts me, but I need him.
He’s my link to Janus—the only Council member who can confirm if she’s feeding information to Stellan.
Confronting him now would risk putting us at odds.
I can’t afford that with the stakes this high.
So, I swallow my questions, lock away my doubts, and focus on what matters: Keeping the Council united and the country stable.
The truth about Corvina can wait.
“You need an extra plate,” I say.
Bennett pauses, glancing over his shoulder at Gianna, who shrugs.
He obliges.
We arrange four plates of food, and by the time I am gathering silverware, our fourth guest arrives.
Pallas slinks into the kitchen, bypassing Gianna, and heads straight for the plate with his name on it.
He snags it from Bennett, who hesitates, confusion wrinkling his brow.
“Why is he here?” Bennett asks as Pallas takes his first bite.
His amethyst-colored hair is windswept, as if he walked or jogged here.
I untie my apron.
“I’ve asked you all here to help me spy on Janus,” I say.
Gianna chokes on her eggs.
Bennett gapes at me while Pallas continues to eat.
“Look,” I go on, “without evidence, I am not accusing Janus of anything, but with Alden’s upcoming visit, presenting a united front that the country is not in shambles is important. Finding Stellan’s mole ensures Corona remains safe from invasion.”
“You think Janus is his source?” Bennett asks, his face pale.
“That’s what I want your help figuring out.”
Bennett laughs, and the sound grates on my nerves.
“Leigh, that’s preposterous.”
“Someone on the Council is working with Stellan,” I insist, and Bennett’s laughter dies, his face growing serious.
“Unless you know who it is, my suspicion lies with Janus. We rule her out first before we focus on someone else.”
Bennett stares at his untouched plate, guilt and uncertainty etched in the tight line of his mouth.
I understand his reluctance.
He’s hardly regained any standing among the other Councilors since admitting he worked with Eos.
But with the wolves coming, we can’t risk having Janus anywhere near Alden if she’s plotting with Stellan.
One leaked detail to the wrong person could destroy everything we’ve built.
If Bennett uncovers Janus’s deceit, he’ll be helping me immensely.
His actions could expose a dangerous threat and prevent further damage to our nation’s peace.
It’s a chance for him to redeem himself and prove his trustworthiness.
I lean forward, my voice low and earnest.
“Bennett, I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t believe it was necessary. We need to know the truth about Janus’s whereabouts last night, and you’re the only one I know who can get close to her without raising suspicion.”
“How can I help?” Pallas asks while Bennett stares into his food.
I smile, glad at least he is on board.
“I need you to track Janus’s communications—find out who she’s been in contact with. Watch her movements, see who she meets in private. We need to know if there’s a pattern.”
Pallas nods, his expression stern with determination.
“What about Gianna?” Bennett asks.
“What’s her role in this?”
Gianna’s stare meets mine, our late-night discussion about Alden and Ravi heavy between us.
A simple business deal wouldn’t require the prince to journey hundreds of miles when a phone call would suffice.
No, I suspect his true purpose is to evaluate Corona’s defenses, to determine whether it’s ripe for taking.
Gi gave me tips on keeping him entertained during his visit.
By presenting strength and stability, I can ensure Corona appears formidable.
When Alden leaves, he must believe any attempt to challenge my rule would be futile.
“Gianna already played her part,” I hedge.
Bennett’s brows lift.
“That’s reassuring.”
“Are you going to help us, Bennett?” I ask.
Bennett’s penetrating gaze bounces among us until his ocean eyes land on mine.
“I’ll try.”
Fantastic.
“Janus is planning a luncheon tomorrow for the prince. Use that time to get closer to her. Now eat?—”
“I hope there’s enough food for all of us,” Wilder says, and I turn to find him and Jaxson filling the doorway, their disheveled uniforms and tired eyes a direct result of their long night.
“What brings you two here?” I ask, startled by the Blades’ presence during my espionage meeting.
Jaxson breezes past, ruffling my hair before he steals a sausage from the pan.
His casual theft does nothing to mask the tension they bring.
Wilder wants Janus and me to get along.
This violates that desire in more ways than one.
Wilder’s kiss is warm and familiar.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Bennett’s rigid posture as he sits next to Gianna, who watches with narrowed eyes and barely concealed impatience, eager for this display to end.
“I brought you a present,” Wilder says.
His voice is steady, but his smile falters.
A knock disrupts the room, and we all turn to see Isolde, a thin yet curvaceous blue-haired Blade who happens to be Wilder’s ex.
A bag hangs over her shoulder, but her focus is on Wilder from the doorway.
“Everyone, this is Isolde,” he says, as if she needs an introduction.
We all briefly met following the events at the capitol last autumn.
“She will be staying at the palace while I am gone.”
I choke out a laugh.
“Um, what?”
Isolde meets my stare, and I can tell she loathes being here.
This wasn’t her idea; it was Wilder’s.
I scowl at my boyfriend, but he says, “Isolde is your new guard.”
“I have guards.”
“Guards who leave you alone during a blackout,” he says, his tone hard.
My breath quickens, chest tight with anger.
I knew he’d use last night against me.
Investigating whether Janus is Stellan’s mole with Wilder’s pet sniffing around and reporting my movements.
Dismissing her would only raise his suspicions.
Better to see this through—either prove Janus’s guilt or clear her name.
At least I have the others to help.
“Welcome, Isolde. You can set up in one of the officers’ quarters. Wilder can show you the way,” I say, my voice saccharine sweet.
Wilder balks, his eyes narrowing at the dismissal.
He didn’t warn me about Isolde, nor was he invited to breakfast.
Isolde shrugs, unfazed.
“Cool.”
She turns on her heel, ready to leave, but Wilder halts me with his intense gaze.
“We will talk later?”
He means we should discuss Alden and Ravi further, but I have it covered.
“I’ll check my calendar. I can squeeze you in somewhere,” I reply, keeping my tone light despite the adrenaline coursing through me.
“Leigh.” Heat pools in my belly at the bold challenge in how he says my name, that familiar tension crackling between us.
“Wilder.” I hold his gaze.
Two can play at this game.
“I am going to my room. Whatever sexually charged moment you two are having, I don’t want to be part of it.” Gianna leaves, bypassing Isolde with an assessing look, but Isolde doesn’t wither under her stare.
The Blade stands taller, her chin lifted in defiance.
“Shall we?” Isolde asks, clearly unsure where to go, leaving Wilder no choice but to follow her.
I give him a four-finger wave, smirking.
His glare promises retribution, and my toes curl.
With Wilder out of earshot, I grab Jaxon’s sleeve.
“I need your help.”
“Go on,” Jaxson muses, excitement brightening his worn-out gaze.
“Can you go to Little Death and check on the vampires? I want to ensure they are okay.”
Jaxson grins.
His enthusiasm reveals that his eagerness is more about seeing Desiree than helping me.
“Go at dusk, ask to speak to Vane directly, but be mindful of his gift. Anything you’d rather the prince not know, lock it up tight and throw away the key,” I warn him.
“Please, I am not scared of Vane.”
I sense a challenge in his words, a hint of bravado that prompts my frown.
“Just be careful,” I say.
“I got your back, L-Rae.”
Jaxson leaves, and Bennett invents an excuse to go, but before Pallas can run off, I call out, “Got a sec?”
He pauses, meeting my gaze with his expressive eyes and smooth complexion.
“What’s up?”
“Keep an eye on Bennett for me.”
“Why?”
“He’s keeping something from me,” I say.
Pallas laughs.
“You want me to spy on your spy?”
I hold his eyes as I reply, “Yes.”