35. Chapter Thirty-Five - Leigh
I thrash against my attacker, contorting my body in a desperate attempt to break free from their unrelenting hold.
As I struggle, I try to catch a glimpse of their face, searching for any identifying features I can use against them later.
My mind catalogs every detail I can gather.
The strength of their grip, the size of their hands, the scent of their skin—anything that might give me a clue of who they are.
A car parked in the employee lot behind the stables comes into view.
Its trunk gapes open like a dark, hungry maw.
Panic surges through me, and I buck with renewed desperation.
If they shove me into that trunk, I’m done for.
Then my attacker hoists me up as if I weigh nothing.
I resist, pressing my high heels into the bumper to lean back from the trunk.
Their reflection flashes briefly in the shiny paint job of the car: clad in a black mask, eyes hidden behind dark lenses.
Who could be behind this brazen attack in such a public setting?
The image of Janus’s face springs to the forefront of my mind.
She disappeared with Beatrix right when I arrived.
Could this be her doing?
Suddenly, a gust of wind, like a squall torn from the pages of a fantasy novel, surges forward.
The force knocks my attacker and me off our feet, sending us sprawling onto the gravel path.
“Let her go!” Janus’s commanding voice cuts through the day.
“Guards!”
My attacker scrambles to their feet with inhuman agility.
I reach for their ankle, but my fingers graze empty air as they leap behind the car’s wheel.
The engine roars to life, drowning out my frustrated cry.
As the car speeds away, two pairs of footsteps crunch across the snowy, gravel path.
I roll over just as Janus blocks out the sun above me.
She’s flanked by a woman in a hat.
Beatrix.
“Are you hurt?” Janus asks, her voice soft as she reaches out a hand.
I flinch away from it, glancing between the women.
My throat tightens with unshed tears and unspoken accusations.
I went looking for Janus, then got attacked.
She might have spooked them away, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t somehow involved.
Janus follows my line of sight, unease furrowing her brow.
“Leigh, this is Beatrix Marks.”
Beatrix offers a small wave and a tight smile.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Are you conspiring against me?” I blurt out, my voice hoarse.
“Perhaps you both need some privacy,” Beatrix suggests.
Janus nods, and Beatrix walks off to intercept the approaching guards, which include a tight-lipped Isolde, who glares at me.
I pitch it right back.
It’s not as if I asked to be kidnapped.
“We need to talk,” Janus says.
“Yeah, we do,” I say, trembling.
I stand without her help, ignoring the shake of my legs.
We need to air our grievances.
The president folds her arms.
“Beatrix is in town to tell me that her father died.” I blink at the information.
“I know her family’s politics are divisive, given they were staunch Nyx supporters, but he was a nice man and close to my parents growing up,” Janus continues, her voice softening.
“For a while, during my teen years before Ama and Father died, I thought I wanted to join his party. You might already know that, given you’ve been having me followed.”
I cross my arms over my chest.
I won’t apologize for due diligence.
She’s been acting shady.
Janus narrows her eyes.
“Leigh, I caught Pallas snooping through my house the other day on the baby monitor.”
“Baby monitor?” I ask.
Janus doesn’t have kids.
She hesitates, then sighs.
“Yes, Daphne is pregnant, and we were testing out the merchandise. The feed showed him in my house .”
I shake my head.
“I didn’t ask him to break into your house.”
Janus purses her lips.
“Perhaps not. But you had him follow me.”
I open my mouth to protest, but what’s the point of lying?
“Can you blame me? He uncovered the truth about your meeting with Beatrix.”
“Beatrix and I are not working together.”
I scoff.
“You should have told me that the moment she stepped foot in Borealis.”
A flicker of regret crosses her face.
“Maybe so, but we have bigger things to?—”
“You met with Alden without me to sell me into a marriage,” I snap, my pent-up suspicions tumbling out one after the other.
“And why won’t you tell me what happened to you the night of the blackout?”
“I deeply regret how I handled the situation with Alden. It was a lapse in judgment on my part.”
Janus makes me sweat for a minute, the silence stretching taut between us.
Finally, she says, “Hebe. Daphne had some complications, and we rushed her to the hospital to see Doctor Dunn.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” I demand.
Janus sighs, her shoulders sagging.
“Because we weren’t ready to tell anyone about the pregnancy. Not after . . .” She swallows.
“What?”
“Not after you poisoned me with the Harborym venom!” Janus yells, her composure finally cracking.
I stumble back a step.
“I apologized,” I say weakly, knowing it’s insufficient.
“On national TV, never to me,” Janus says, and I shrink.
The hurt in her eyes is genuine.
But I never got a chance to apologize to her personally, not with how poorly our first audience went.
“It was a misunderstanding. I didn’t know Don would use it on you.”
Janus’s hands ball into fists.
“And I didn’t know if I could trust you. Your uncle lied to us all. You lied to us about your magic. I was protecting my family.”
“I was protecting my people!” I fire back.
“Someone is betraying us, telling secrets to Stellan to divide us, and you?—”
“You think that’s me ?” Janus scoffs.
“You disappeared during a blackout. What else was I supposed to think?”
Janus laughs with so much disbelief and disgust that, despite myself, I can’t deny it—she’s not the mole.
We stand there, two leaders at a crossroads.
But I refuse to back down first.
She might not be the enemy I thought she was, but she lied to me.
I was right not to trust her.
“Leigh, I’m disappointed in you. You can’t just run around assuming the worst of people and leading secret investigations with your friends.”
“Well, when people stop betraying me, then I will.”
A professional coolness masks the hurt in her eyes.
“It seems we should be worried about whoever just tried to have you abducted ,” she says.
My throat tightens at the reminder.
“Did you see their face?”
“No,” I murmur.
Just then, Alden bursts out from the growing crowd the guards keep at bay.
He trots over, accompanied by Ravi.
“What happened?” he gasps, trying to pull me into an embrace.
I push away from him as cameras flash in the distance.
Was he the one behind my attack?
What purpose could the wolves have for kidnapping unless they’re trying to goad us into war?
But why do that now if they’re trying to arrange a marriage alliance?
As I try to storm off, Isolde intercepts me.
“There was an attack,” she breathes.
“In Aurora. It just got called in.”
I straighten.
Wilder.
“What happened?”
“Stellan got hurt.”
Isolde’s words send a chill down my spine.
“Is he?—”
“Wilder saved him, but he shot a man,” she whispers.
The ground no longer opens beneath my feet when Isolde adds, “Wilder wouldn’t betray you.”
I nod, wanting desperately to believe her.
There has to be an explanation.
As if on cue, phones start pinging in every person’s pocket—a telltale sign of a new article from The Tower Tribune .
My heart squeezes, and I reach for my phone, but I must have lost it in the attack.
Isolde hands me hers.
Scandal Rocks the Monarchy: Fynn Raelyn’s True Parentage Revealed
By Stellan Navis
AT a peaceful rally for my campaign earlier today, I was attacked.
An Epsilon tried to silence my quest for justice.
But the truth will not be silenced.
I come to you from a safe and secure location with a new, inciting story.
In a stunning revelation that threatens the stability of our royal institution, my favorite trusted source has presented information that could redefine the Raelyn family’s lineage.
It has been disclosed that Fynn Raelyn—previously believed to be the son of the late Prince Gwyn Raelyn and heir to the throne—is the offspring of Don Raelyn, the former Heir Apparent’s brother.
This source, who has proven reliable in the past, alleges that the truth has been a closely guarded secret within the palace, stemming from a long-concealed affair between Queen Mother Cynthia Araceli-Raelyn and Prince Don Raelyn.
This affair challenges the legitimacy of Fynn’s position and casts a shadow over Queen Leigh’s rightful claim to the throne.
Could Don be her father as well?
All the air empties from my lungs.
Around me, the excited sounds of the racecourse are shifting into something sharp and accusatory, whispers turning into hisses of shock as people read the article.
“Leigh?” Isolde’s voice cuts through my shock.
I look up at her.
“Get me out of here.”
I need to see my mother.