Chapter 19
Sander
nine days ago
It’s been a long time since I last saw Hex this tense, though it’s not hard to guess what the cause is tonight.
Run-ins with Agent Storme always leave him on edge, and he was in a bad mood even before she showed up at the palace.
He’s been in a bad mood a lot lately, which would be fine if he would actually talk to me about it, but he keeps brushing me off and pretending nothing is wrong.
He’s never been like this before.
From my place in a shadowed archway of the courtyard, I watch Hex stalk back to the bow he discarded even though Agent Storme hasn’t quite made it to the garage. She could turn and see everything he worked so hard to hide during their conversation, and I wonder if he cares.
His movements are stiff and poorly controlled, which is only going to make his mood worse. “You’re going to miss,” I mutter when he pulls the bowstring tight and looses the arrow with his exhale.
The arrow knicks the edge of the target but lands in the dirt beyond.
Hex growls, nocking another arrow and taking more time to aim.
“Too far right,” I tell him under my breath.
The arrow hits the outermost ring.
“Hex.” This time, I speak loud enough that he’ll hear me, but my voice doesn’t stop him from firing a third arrow that flies so wide it hits one of the palace walls.
I haven’t seen him lose control like this since we were boys.
“Should I be hiding the swords before someone gets stabbed?” I ask as I approach.
Though his shoulders relax, his empty hand balls into a fist. “Course not,” he mutters.
It isn’t a lie, but I still hate the way he tries to hide from me.
We don’t keep secrets from each other. “From what I saw,” I say as I slip my hands into my pockets and come up to his side, “Agent Storme just convinced you to help the RIA with their anti-royalist investigation.” I couldn’t read his side of the conversation, with his back to me almost the whole time, but Agent Storme looked…
desperate. I’ve never seen her like that, just like I haven’t seen Hex tense like this in nearly a year.
Not since he failed to catch an anti-royalist who tried to harm our sister.
Hex doesn’t do well with mistakes—he once lost an archery challenge to Tobias Northam and spent three weeks with a bow in the palace courtyard, firing arrows until his fingers bled.
Even if he pretends otherwise, I know he hates that the assailant got away last year.
Helping the RIA would give him the resources he needs to fix things, but for some reason he keeps refusing.
I can only assume Agent Storme is the reason he doesn’t think the RIA is an avenue he can take. There’s bad blood between them, though I have no idea why.
“Why did she say you owe her?” I ask warily. Neither of them seemed happy about it when she said that.
Hex growls low in his throat and drops his gaze to the dirt at his feet. “Don’t ask me that, San.”
Just like I can’t ask him why he hates Agent Storme.
It’s the only secret he’s kept from me for a decade.
Ignoring the familiar ache in my chest that flares whenever Storme comes up between us, I push the conversation forward. “So now you’ve agreed to help the investigation, which means you’re going to have to spend some time with Storme. You’re going to hate that.”
His eyes jump to me, guilt written all over his face. “I would hate it, yeah, but there’s a big problem. I’m leaving for the Canary Islands in the morning.”
I stare at him, trying to figure out how I forgot something like this, but I can’t do it because I don’t forget things. This is the first time I’m hearing about this, and it doesn’t make any sense. “You’re not going to the Canary Islands,” I argue.
He grimaces. “I am.”
“Since when?” Better question that I’m too scared to ask: Without me? He’s never gone anywhere without me. He’s never even left the country.
With his sigh, some of his tension leaves his shoulders, but he’s far from relaxed. He looks completely exhausted. “Since I signed up for a survival competition a few months ago.”
“Months?” I choke on the word, and suddenly it feels like the world is spinning.
Hex winces and drops his gaze. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“How else am I supposed to look at you when you’ve been keeping this from me for months?” Staggering back a few steps, I sink onto a nearby bench and force a breath. It’s one thing to keep a secret about Agent Storme when it might not be his secret to tell, but this?
We don’t keep secrets.
“Sander.”
“Start talking,” I snap and glare up at him. “What do you mean, a survival competition?”
He shifts his weight, gravel crunching under his feet, but there’s poorly concealed excitement lighting up his eyes.
Excitement, but also desperation. “Exactly what it sounds like. I’ll be competing against eleven other contestants in challenges that test mental and physical strength, and the show is designed to—”
“Show?” I groan, imagining the disaster that will be. A prince of Candora on a television show? “Hex.”
He shrugs, the gesture almost sheepish, but his real emotion comes through in the break in his voice as he says, “I need this, San.”
I would ask him why, but it’s not like I haven’t seen the way he’s been putting more and more time into training.
Pushing his limits, sometimes to the point that I worry he’ll push so hard that he cracks.
No matter how difficult it is for him to admit, he needs a break.
A distraction. Nothing I’ve said or done has convinced him to ease up, and there are few things worse than watching his sense of responsibility weigh him down until he’s likely to snap under the pressure.
He’s been lost and needs a way to find himself again. I know that as well as he does.
But competing in a reality television show? Even if he wins, I don’t see how that will help him in the long run. It won’t catch the anti-royalist who slipped through his fingers. It won’t help Agent Storme’s investigation.
Something big is going down before the month’s end, she told him. Within the next couple of weeks.
“Hex, you can’t be in two places at once.”
Groaning, he flops onto the bench next to me and drops his head back, eyes shut tight. “Well aware.”
“You agreed to attend an event with Storme tomorrow.”
“I know,” he growls. “Trust me, if I could have said no, I would have.” Whatever reason he owes Agent Storme, the anguish in his expression makes it clear he’s telling the truth.
Can you back out of the show? But I don’t ask that question because I already know the answer.
He can, but he won’t. Not if it’s been months in the making and things have likely been planned around his strengths and skill set.
Backing out would put a lot of strain on the show runners and compound his guilt. “Then how—”
“I’ll figure it out.”
He won’t. Hex is intelligent and resourceful, but unless he somehow finds a way to clone himself, then…
“Vitte,” I curse, the answer hitting me like a punch to the gut.
Hex tilts his head to look at me. “What?” But then his eyes widen. “No. San, I’m not asking you to—”
“You have a better plan?” As discomfort races through my bloodstream, leaving me itchy and nauseous, I stand and start pacing, as if that might help me outrun the obvious solution. “I pretend to be you all the time.”
“Pulling a prank on Elliot isn’t the same as lying to an entire organization for weeks, Sander.” Hex jumps up to block my path, grabbing my arm. “This is my mess. I have to fix it.”
But he can’t fix it. I know that as well as he does, and I can’t ignore the exhaustion in his eyes or the hollow look he does his best to hide from everyone around him. Even from me. He’s coming apart at the seams, and if he thinks this show can save him…
“Let me help you,” I say, the words weaker than I’d like. There’s nothing I hate more than someone twisting the truth, but there’s no one I love more than Hex. He’s been my best friend from the start and has never let me fade into the shadows. I would do anything for him.
Even lie to Astrid Storme.
I curse as a wave of nausea forces me to bend over and take several deep breaths before I throw up.
Lying to begin with is bad enough, but lying to someone like her?
I didn’t interact with her often when we were in school or during the six months she was employed as Freya’s bodyguard, but I’ve watched her plenty.
She’s one of the few people in Candora who has come close to matching Hex in skill, both physically and mentally.
I’ve rarely seen her anything but confident and determined, and she wouldn’t ask for Hex’s help if she didn’t need it.
But therein lies the problem. She needs Hex.
Not me.
“And you wonder why I think this is a bad idea,” Hex grumbles, patting my back. “You are the king of honesty, Sander. You’ll never be able to lie to Storme without the guilt eating you alive.”
“I don’t have to lie,” I argue, all too aware of how flimsy my argument is. I’ll do what we do to our brother-in-law whenever we want to mess with him. “I just have to let her make the wrong assumptions.” Let all of Candora’s nobility make the wrong assumptions…
Hex lets out a bark of laughter. “If that makes you feel better about it, I’ll let you live with your delusion while I figure out a real solution.”
Standing up straight, I narrow my eyes at him. “There isn’t one, and you know it.” The fact that he hasn’t even mentioned the idea of backing out of the show is proof of that. “How long will you be filming?”
He matches my expression, though wariness mingles with his determination. “If I’m not eliminated before it ends, it’ll last a week.” And since this is Hex, he’ll be there the whole week. Losing the competition would be as detrimental to his mental state as staying here.
I have to help him. As much as I hate this idea, Hex would do the same for me if our roles were reversed.
Then again, if the roles were reversed, I never would have made a promise I couldn’t keep.
“Storme asked you for two weeks,” I say with a casual shrug that belies my unease. “I can cover for you until you get back.” If it helps Hex, I can do this for a week.
Hex frowns at me as his mind works through other options, and his jaw clenches tighter with every passing second that he doesn’t come up with anything.
“The only reason I’m even considering letting you do this,” he mutters eventually, “is because Storme doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does. ”
In my opinion, almost no one knows Hex as well as they think they do.
With our older sister destined for the throne since before we were born, we both learned early on to play into expectations, whether they came from our parents or the Candoran people.
It’s easier than constantly being a disappointment.
For Hex, disappointing anyone, to any degree, is equal to abject failure.
And failure is unacceptable.
“I won’t let you down,” I promise him, gripping his arm so now we’re holding on to each other. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep your reputation intact.”
He frowns. “That’s not…”
“As long as you assure me you’ll be careful while you’re gone.”
Scoffing, he steps away from my touch. “Do you expect me to do otherwise?”
No, but he can’t control everything. “You’re not just a Palace Guard, Hex. You’re a prince.”
“All too aware of that, San.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve covered all my bases.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Isn’t that an American phrase?
You’ve been spending too much time with Elliot.
” He hasn’t, though. Our brother-in-law rarely spends any time apart from Freya, which meant Agent Storme was always nearby while she was Freya’s bodyguard.
In turn, that meant Hex was as far from them as he could get. And I…
There’s no world in which I don’t put my brother first. I wouldn’t have minded the chance to know Storme better while she worked in the palace, but circumstances made that impossible. Hex despises Storme, and Storme adores Hex.
And I’ve admired Astrid Storme since the day I first saw her.
Twelve years ago.
As I follow Hex inside, the reality of what I just offered to do hits me hard.
I’m going to spend who knows how much time with Agent Storme over the next week, the whole time going against my instinct to remain in the background because I have to be Hex.
Bold, flashy, charming, and the man Storme has fancied for years.
All the while, I’ll have to keep my interest locked up tight; Hex would never forgive me if I did anything to convince his nemesis that his opinion of her has softened.
Skies forbid she starts thinking he might actually like her, let alone harbor real feelings for her. That would hurt her far more than it would hurt me.
I hold back a groan. I’ve had years of practice keeping my admiration to myself, but I’ve also kept my distance from Storme before now. If I’m going to be helping her with her investigation until Hex comes back, that won’t be an option anymore.
This won’t be a disaster at all.