Chapter 30 #2
As Rowen purses his lips, Greywick’s expression turns icy. “Those were extremist fanatics,” Greywick says gruffly. “Our goal has always been to bring about change through the voice of the people rather than violence.”
As Virek reminded me, we haven’t found any evidence that the money sent to the anti-royalists went toward purchasing weapons.
But then what did it purchase? Why would the antis wait until they had funding to make a move?
Inching closer, I study one of the notebooks, but it’s full of the same strings of numbers that are being written on the cards. Nothing I can understand.
“And how are we a part of this?” Sander asks.
Greywick scoffs, but Rowen smiles. “Like I told you before, Prince Hendrik, value is a subjective thing. Miss Storme, you have been a point of interest among the Candoran people since the moment you took up your post with the queen, and you became a lot more interesting when you left her employ. You probably don’t know it, but you’re something of a symbol for a lot of people. ”
I can’t stop my mouth from falling open. “I’m a what?” I knew I was in the spotlight, but I figured the light dimmed when I stopped being a bodyguard. A symbol? A symbol of what?
“You are proof that the divide from the average Candoran to the palace isn’t as large as we used to think,” Rowen says.
Blackmere’s words from Markell’s party flash through my mind: An Alverra is never going to get you where you want to go. I thought Virek was ridiculous for thinking that was enough to implicate Blackmere as an anti-royalist supporter, but here he is.
“But I left the palace,” I argue.
“Which told us that things at the top aren’t any better than they are at the bottom,” Greywick says.
“And when you took up a relationship with the prince,” Rowen says, “that further confirmed that change is inevitable.”
Sander folds his arms, looking unconvinced. “Because I have feelings for a security officer?”
“Because you’ve never acted like a prince,” Blackmere mutters.
“Only as little as you’ve acted like a future duke,” Sander shoots back.
“Can we…” I narrow my eyes at Sander, then at Blackmere, and when I’m sure they’ll keep their mouths shut, I turn my attention back to Rowen. “If we’re going to help you, we need to know what your plan is.”
“I would like to know the same thing,” a feminine voice says from behind us. Helena Vardane glides into the room with Crowell at her heels, her expression sharp and focused on Rowen.
Before Rowen can say anything, the two people at the table close their notebooks and stand up. “That’s all of them, Rowen,” the woman says, glancing nervously at Lady Vardane as she gathers up her last stack of cards, then scurries from the room. The man follows close behind her.
“Brilliant,” Rowen says, though he keeps the word quiet. Nodding to Greywick, who strides out the room without a glance at anyone, Rowen stands tall and smiles politely at Lady Vardane. “The plan is the same as it’s always been,” he tells her.
“But three days early,” she replies with some bite. “It seems you forgot to inform me of the change, Mr. Rowen.”
“You clearly received the information.”
“From Lord Blackmere, yes.” Lady Vardane sniffs and lifts her chin. “Why, I might ask, did he know something before I did when he has only been a part of this for a couple of weeks at most?”
Sander swears under his breath, and I look back at Blackmere, whose calmly content expression hasn’t changed. He meets my eyes for a second and smiles ever so slightly. Like he’s nothing but amused by all of this.
But if Blackmere was informed about tonight while Lady Vardane wasn’t, and Blackmere is the one who told Lady Vardane about tonight, which side is he on?
It’s clear there are sides in this. We suspected Lady Vardane has her own agenda, and if Rowen jumped into action without her consent, there’s a good chance he suspects her too. And I still don’t know what either of their plans are, which means Sander and I are trapped between two powerful parties.
Without any backup.
Has Callum heard any of this? He hasn’t said anything since before we came inside, and it’s not like him to stay silent when things are interesting.
“Your part in this is done,” Rowen says eventually. He speaks carefully, watching Lady Vardane with keen eyes. “I saw no reason for you to be included in ours.”
I turn just enough that my pocket is facing away from everyone and slip my phone out, breath catching when I see that it doesn’t have a signal. Callum said that as long as I had a signal, he would hear me. And since I don’t…
I think back to the conversation Callum and I had about how he hasn’t been able to track the anti-royalists because they’ve been doing everything analog.
No phone calls, no texts or emails. Nothing that can be tracked from afar.
Callum couldn’t even get close eyes on the building despite being able to tap into most security cameras.
When we arrived, the anti-royalists took our guns, but they didn’t bother taking our phones. Leaving us with our phones would be a rookie move by someone as organized as Rowen seems to be unless he already knew they’d be useless.
Cursing under my breath, I take in the way Lady Vardane and Rowen are having a sort of stare-down. Neither looks happy, and something tells me Rowen isn’t about to lay out his plan for me now that she’s here.
“Astrid?” Sander whispers, taking my hand again.
“I need you to be Hex,” I whisper back, though barely any sound comes out. I’m too busy making a plan. Everyone with the cards was going elsewhere in the building, which means there must be more information somewhere.
“What?”
I won’t be able to connect with Callum until I’m away from the building and whatever signal blocker they have set up, but there’s no point in connecting with him if I have nothing to give him.
I need information first. Making sure no one’s attention is on us, I mouth my response to Sander. “Distract them so I can get away.”
He tilts his head, and for a second I think he’s going to argue or demand an explanation.
But then he brushes a quick kiss against my temple, whispers a quick, “Be careful,” and steps forward to form a sort of triangle around the table.
Rowen at the head, Lady Vardane on one side, and Sander on the other.
“As fun as this is to watch the two of you glare at each other,” he says loudly, pulling everyone’s attention to him, “I don’t think we’re going to get very far with a staring contest.”
“No one invited you,” Crowell snaps as I start inching toward the door.
Sander smirks. “Clearly someone did, or I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”
“The prince is a liability,” Lady Vardane says to Rowen, “which is why I recommended we don’t bring him into this. We can’t control him.”
“The prince isn’t a puppet,” Sander growls.
A shiver runs through me at the sound, but no matter how much I want to see him unleash that inner blaze of his, I’m almost to the door.
Which means I’m right next to Blackmere.
I freeze, waiting for him to stop me or call attention to my escape. His mildly amused expression doesn’t change even a little as he studies me. Then, to my complete shock, he turns his focus back to the heated conversation on the other side of the room.
And I run.