Chapter 16
We have a mission to complete. A country to save. But I can’t move as Hex’s nose brushes mine. His shaky breath warms my lips. His fingers pull me close, and I stop breathing. I’ve dreamed about this for so long, but I never thought it would actually happen.
Footsteps creak on the floor above us.
Swearing, Hex drops both his hands and leans back as far as he can go, and the inch of space between us feels like the width of an entire country. I’ve never been more disappointed and relieved in my life.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, shaking his head. “You… What did Rourke… Did…” He chokes as he inhales, like the air gets stuck halfway, and he presses a trembling hand to his forehead as he gasps for air. Then gasps again, his lungs working wildly without much effect.
I don’t know why he’s having a panic attack, but I need to snap him out of it before it gets worse.
“Hex,” I say as gently as I can, placing my hand on his chest this time.
Vitte, his heart is racing. “You need to breathe, alright? Breathe with me.” I take an exaggerated breath, hoping he matches me, but his eyes are too distant to be seeing me clearly.
Maybe he can’t even hear me. “Hex!” I put more force into his name.
He groans and shuts his eyes, his chin sinking to his chest.
“Listen to me.” Placing my palms on either side of his face, I lift his head as I scramble to find some way to help him. In all my years of training, calming a panic attack was never part of the curriculum. RIA agents don’t panic. “You’re alright, Hex.”
He shakes his head even though I’m holding it tightly.
“Everything is fine, and you just need to take a deep breath. Nice and slow. Like this.” I breathe again but already know it’s useless if he can’t see or feel what I’m doing. Groaning, I grab one of his hands and press it over my collar bone, breathing in deeply.
“Your heartbeat,” he whispers, looking at me with a furrowed brow. He’s still not breathing, but his attempts are less erratic.
“What about it?” I ask.
“T-too fast.”
I exhale in a huff. “That’s because I’m worried about you, you dolt. Can you please just breathe?”
To my utter shock, he does. It’s only half a breath, but it’s more than he managed before. When he inhales again, his eyes slide down to his palm over my heart. “Worried,” he repeats as his frown deepens. “About me?”
I test another exaggerated breath, and this time he breathes in at the same time I do. “Yes, I’m worried about you, Prince. You’re not acting like yourself.”
That gets a small laugh out of him, and he lowers his head until it’s resting on my shoulder.
He was already tired, and I can only imagine how exhausting that mini panic attack must have been, short though it was.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my neck, making me shiver.
“Can you…talk? Tell me what Rourke said to you. Distract me.”
Needing the distraction as much as he apparently does, I tell him everything Rourke said. “I wanted to ask him more about Northam, but—”
“But he would have clammed up,” Hex finishes for me, lifting his head.
He takes a slow, deliberate breath and stands up straight again.
Though he looks more exhausted than ever, the wild look in his eyes has gone, replaced by something more thoughtful.
I’m impressed by his quick recovery, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s faking his calm.
“But how does spending thousands of euros help his debt situation?”
I shrug. “The only thing I can figure is someone was willing to pay him to move the money through the auction. Northam would take the fall if something went wrong, leaving the perpetrator in the clear.”
“The traitor,” he corrects and clenches his jaw tight. “Anyone giving money to an anti-royalist organization is a traitor to the crown.”
“I won’t disagree.”
Sighing, the prince runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Storme,” he says again. “You deserve better than…” He waves his hand over himself. “…this.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” That response doesn’t surprise me, but what he adds next does. “But I will. At least, you need to hear about my conversation with Crowell.”
Yes, I do, and I’m glad he told me without force. I could listen to the recordings from his phone, but it’ll take too long before I get access to them. “Go ahead,” I nudge.
“He asked if I’m enjoying my time away from the castle.” He rolls his shoulders, like he’s uncomfortable. “He asked if I feel overqualified and underappreciated, and then he asked if I’ve ever wanted to be a king.”
“You haven’t wanted to be a king,” I say, though it’s almost a question. It’s a well-known fact that the Alverra twins have always asserted they have no interest in the crown and are fully supportive of their sister. But what if it isn’t actually a fact?
Slowly shaking his head, the prince takes another deep breath and leans his back against the shelves, his eyes downcast. “No, I haven’t.”
Something in his tone is impossible to ignore. “But?”
He looks up. “But I do sometimes want more in my life than being a Palace Guard.”
Crowell wasn’t wrong when he implied the prince is overqualified, but I always thought Hex was content in his role. “Did you tell Crowell that?”
He scoffs. “I barely told him anything, which is why he started getting suspicious and I made an excuse to come find you.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “Suspicious how?”
“I don’t know,” he says, grimacing. “Something in the way he was looking at me.”
While there’s a lot to be read in the average person’s face, I’m not sure he should have walked away from what could have been an important conversation just because he was nervous.
I’m still trying to understand how Hex could ever be nervous enough to struggle talking to someone.
“Well,” I say calmly, “maybe you can go back—”
The closet door opens so quickly that I grab my gun on instinct and the prince pulls me tight against his body in a protective move.
“Ah.” Crowell lifts an eyebrow as he takes us in, unfazed by the pistol pointed at his chest. “I suppose I should count myself lucky that I haven’t stumbled into a rendezvous before now. But a linen closet, Your Highness? Really?”
Hex exhales shakily and slowly relaxes his hold on me without letting go. “Storme,” he murmurs, then wraps his fingers around mine on the gun. I’m not inclined to lower my weapon, but I do it anyway. “Can’t blame a man for taking whatever moments he can get,” he mutters.
Crowell scoffs. “You have a whole bedroom at your disposal.”
“I’m working,” I say at the same time the prince says, “She’s working.” We glance at each other, both of us smiling briefly. “Was there a reason you opened this particular closet?” I ask Crowell.
“I heard voices, and curiosity got the better of me.” He looks to his right just as Blackmere comes into view and wrinkles his nose at the pair of us. “Look what I came across.”
Blackmere grumbles something and folds his arms. “Something tells me he won’t be interested,” he says, his eyes trailing over Hex.
“Interested in what?” the prince asks warily.
Blackmere smirks. “A drink. You look like you could use something to help you relax, though it appears you have already found it.” His eyes rove over me next, and I lean back just enough to feel the prince behind me.
I don’t know if he can handle it after everything tonight, but it would be a good idea for him to take Blackmere up on his offer.
“No,” Hex says before I can find some way to indicate my opinion. “Thank you, but—”
“I’d like to steal away your pretty friend anyway,” Crowell says and smiles at me. At least, I think it’s supposed to be a smile, but it’s more of a sneer than anything. “Miss Storme, we haven’t had a chance to talk yet, and unfortunately I’ll be leaving early tomorrow.”
They’re trying to divide us, and under no circumstances should we let this opportunity to probe deeper slide. “Yes, of course,” I say and step forward.
Hex grabs my hand, stopping me. “Astrid.” He rarely calls me by my first name, and this is the second time in ten minutes.
There’s something in the way he says it that makes me shiver.
Or maybe that’s just because he’s holding so tightly to my hand and looking at me like he’ll fall apart again if I leave his side.
Smiling gently, I pat his cheek. “Lord Blackmere is right, and you could use a chance to unwind.”
Hex’s eyes jump to Crowell before fixing on me again. “What about you?” he whispers.
“What about her?” Crowell asks gruffly. “Are you insinuating that I might be a danger to someone as skilled as her? Or are you suggesting I help her unwind?”
The prince sighs, slowly releasing my hand. “Of course not.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell him. I’ll text him and ask him to find me after Blackmere goes to bed so we can share what we learn.
As Hex reluctantly follows Blackmere back to the billiards room, I join Crowell on the back patio.
Clouds hang heavy in the night sky, but it hasn’t started to rain yet.
The air feels thick with more than just moisture; whatever Crowell wants to talk about, I’m going to have to be careful with my responses.
“I’ve always wanted an estate in the country,” he says as he leans his shoulder against a stone pillar and looks out over the dark grounds. “There’s one in the family, of course, but it’ll go to my brother, along with everything else.”
What do I say to that? “I won’t inherit much from my parents either, but I’m an only child.”
He chuckles and glances at me. “Right. My situation could always be worse.”
“A lot of people’s situations are worse.” I shrug. “But I have a good job, so I can’t complain too much.”
“Odd, for Fennor to hire security personnel for a simple weekend retreat.”
I can’t decide if he’s genuinely confused or trying to see what I know about the reason I’m here. As far as I’m aware, it wasn’t Fennor’s idea to hire me but Greywick’s. “It’s less odd when you consider the attention that follows the prince.”
Crowell hums and nods. “You’ve surprised me, you know.”
“In what way?”
“You’re a lot more…” He tilts his head as he studies me. “…competent than I expected, given how short a time you were employed by the queen.”
Smirking, I shake my head and pretend to hold back laughter. “She would have kept me for the entirety of her reign if she could have, but I chose to leave.”
“Greener pastures?” He lifts an eyebrow. “I’d say private security is a large step down, wouldn’t you?”
“Spending that much time in the palace wasn’t for me.”
A light flickers to life behind his eyes. “And yet you’re involved with the frivolous prince.”
With the intense way he’s watching me, my gut is telling me that what I say next is more important than anything I’ve said so far. This whole conversation feels like a test, one I can’t afford to fail.
Pretending to hesitate, I turn my gaze to the grounds as I say, “Hex and I have the same goal.”
Crowell is quiet for long enough that I turn to look at him. That light in his eyes is a blazing fire now, though he does his best to act aloof as he slides his hands into his pockets. “And what goal is that?”
I think through my response and lift my lips in a crooked smile. “A better Candora.”
His head tilts to one side, but it’s impossible to tell what he thinks of that response. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Well, I’ve taken enough of your time, Miss Storme. I hope we are fortunate enough to see more of each other.”
I nod—a noncommittal response—and watch him go with a knot in my stomach.
Did I say the right thing? I hope so, but I won’t know until I talk to Hex and compare my conversation to his.
Hopefully Blackmere will give him the information we need to take the next step forward.
Otherwise, we’ll be fumbling in the dark and relying on Virek’s wayward investigation.
“It’s up to you, Prince,” I murmur, then head inside to do a final sweep of the estate before going up to my room to wait.