Chapter 31 #2
I glance at her, also taking in the goons who stayed out in the corridor. They’re just visible through the lights reflected on the glass wall, standing guard and poorly concealing their guns. It’d be nice if I had my gun, but I don’t know where it is. At the moment, all I’ve got is my wits.
Thank goodness wits are what I need right now. Hex’s personality may have gotten me this far, but now it’s my turn to play.
Helena Vardane is easier to read than she likely thinks. She’s as proud as they come and won’t fall for taunts or arguments unless I build her up enough that her foundation is shaky at best. Then all I have to do is remove the right supports.
“You sound surprised,” I say, studying Helena’s face as she keeps her gaze on the map.
Her lips press together, the corners of her eyes lifting. Not quite a smile but close to one. “Rowen and I often see things differently.”
“But not in this,” I guess. “You agree with him that—whatever this is—it’s necessary for Candora’s survival. I can understand wanting some things to change, but you and your husband have never struck me as anti-royalists.”
She snorts a small laugh. “My husband is far too comfortable in his ways.”
“Is that why he’s leaving Candora?”
Her eyes jump to me with a flash of panic, there and gone in the blink of an eye. And then she smiles. “You’re better informed than I thought, Your Highness.”
“I pay attention.” Folding my arms, I lean one shoulder against the wall. “You don’t think I would show up to an anti-royalist party without doing a little research, do you?”
“You are in over your head.”
“Try me.”
Her eyes narrow, taking in my casual stance and carefree smile. “I don’t trust you, Prince Aleksander.”
“I don’t expect you to. You know nothing about me.”
“You’re a royal, which is all I need to know.”
A door slams in the distance, followed by footsteps, and we both turn as the goons reach for their guns as two people rush past. The men are tense for a moment, but the hallway quiets again and they relax.
“I take it they still haven’t found Miss Storme,” I say, unable to hold back my grin. “At what point did you realize you made a mistake in thinking she was unimportant?”
“Storme can’t do anything to stop this,” Helena snaps.
Ah, so she is still going to underestimate Astrid?
That’s good to know. After glaring at me, Helena looks at the map again and composes herself.
If she knows what the numbers and dots mean, I doubt she’ll fill me in on the secret, but what I really need is to figure out her end game.
I let the silence stretch on until her eyes dart toward me for half a second. “So, you really think the monarchy should be dissolved? I didn’t expect that from you.”
She takes a slow, controlled breath but doesn’t respond.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter much to you, having no title or authority, but you’ve always been so supportive of Freya.”
Helena scoffs. It’s subtle but unmistakable, which means I’m heading in the right direction.
“I’m so glad you’re on her side,” I say and lift a hand to examine my fingernails. “Freya’s the best thing to ever happen to Candora, and I’m pleased to see someone has realized my sister wants the same things as the antis and is trying to speed things along where she can’t.”
“Exactly the problem,” Helena grumbles, then clenches her jaw. Her expression tightens as the fingers of her right hand curl into a fist. With another slow breath, she turns to face me. “You are not as clever as you think, Prince Aleksander.”
“And you’re not hoping for the downfall of the monarchy if you’re so set on calling me by my title.”
Her eyes widen in what looks like a mixture of fear and surprise, and she shifts a step away from me as she works to contain her emotion again.
“I see,” she says as her eyes trail down to my toes and up to my face.
“Rowen sent you to judge my loyalty to the cause. He doesn’t need to worry.
I want this strike to happen exactly as he planned. ”
She didn’t respond to my comment, and my thoughts start whirring as I consider that word she let slip: strike.
While it’ll be disruptive, a strike is fairly mild compared to some of the ideas I’ve come up with for what’s happening in a few hours.
Still… Parts of the city will shut down, and depending on their situations, some people could lose their jobs if they don’t show up for their shifts.
With Freya not in Candora to witness any of it, what good will a strike do anyone? It will do more harm than anything.
Unless we were wrong, and the anti-royalists don’t know that Freya is out of the country.
What would Helena Vardane have to gain from supporting a strike? Nothing the people do would affect her. This can’t have just been an elaborate plot to take control over her husband’s title; there’s more to this.
But what is it?
“Why?” I ask, standing straight again and studying her.
She wrinkles her nose. “Why, what?”
“If Rowen gets what he wants, what’s in it for you?
” I already know she isn’t going to answer that question, so I keep talking.
“I’m here because I want Candora to thrive, but why are you?
Hundreds of thousands of euros is a lot of money to put into a peaceful strike, so you must think it’s worth the cost.”
Her carefully calm expression falls, her eyebrows pinching together, and for the first time she looks afraid. “How do you know that?”
My lips tick up in a smirk even while my heart starts racing. “I pay attention,” I remind her.
I can practically see her thoughts as she processes. If I had to guess, she’s wondering how I know so much and what else I might know.
“The way I see it,” I tell her, keeping my words light and casual, “you only have something to gain if the monarchy stands, and yet you want this strike to happen as if grocery stores and hospitals shutting down will make you more powerful.”
Her eyes narrow the slightest bit, but she keeps silent, staring me down like she’s daring me to put the pieces together.
And I do.
The queen is out of the country, about as far from Candora as she can get. Parliament has been nervous for months while talk of anti-royalist ideals has continued to rise. The Lords were put on high alert only a few hours ago and were quick to warn each other that something might happen.
Something like a city-wide strike.
My expression falls as it hits me.
It’s not about the strike. If the city comes to a standstill, from transit to necessities to emergency services, and Freya isn’t here to deal with the fallout…
Parliament can assume emergency power.
And they can claim that the crown has failed Candora.
I swear, and that’s when Helena moves for the door. “You!” she shouts at the nearest man. “Stay with the prince and make sure he doesn’t leave this room. You, come with me.”
Thoughts reeling, I take too long to rush after her.
The first goon trains his gun on me, stopping me in my tracks, while Helena and the other disappear down the corridor.
The man’s grip is natural and practiced, and his aim is confident and unwavering.
I may be fast, but I’m not fast enough to dodge a bullet.
I hold my hands in the air and take a deep breath to calm my heart rate so I can think straight. I need a plan. I need Astrid. We need to stop this strike, and with it stop Helena from turning Rowen’s movement into something far more dangerous.