51. Annalise
Chapter fifty-one
Annalise
Waking up this morning, I feel energized.
Tam’s place was everything I needed last night: incredible food, great music, and the loveliest staff—who just so happened to be Kam’s mom and sister.
They had already heard all about our ride and they told me Kam would have been there to meet me had Barney gotten his way, but Kam was stuck at work, preparing for the Royal Engagement Party.
Securing my hair into a ponytail, I tuck my burner phone into my leggings pocket and put just one headphone in.
This morning’s run is as much for my own sanity as it is for my mission. I need to run as close as I can get to the castle in one direction, and then run back another, scouting for all of the possible backup paths I can take to get back to the hotel, should something go wrong.
“Not that it will,” I assure Tyr, who has already started grumbling in my head this morning.
I make it all but half a mile from the castle before I meet the blockades and have to turn away, plans already shaping and reshaping in my mind.
A half-mile run before disappearing into crowds would be easy if I were in workout gear, but I will be in a gown and heels, I’d be easy to spot if I run at all…unless there is another catastrophe that would cause everyone to run away from the castle—an explosion of some sort?
“Did you become a bomb technician, and I missed it?” Tyr chuffs.
“Point taken, no bombs. Maybe a fire, though?”
“Maybe we just skip all of this, and you let me take us home.”
“Not this again…you know, when I bonded the fierce Alpha, I thought you were going to be gung-ho about missions like this.”
“First, never use gung-ho and me in the same sentence again. Second, I’m an Alpha who likes to be in control and fights when I need to. This is a stupid assignment with little gain and you to lose. So no, I don’t like this mission.”
“How is the hunting on this side of the border?” I change the subject, something I know Tyr doesn’t miss.
“Delicious. The mountain goats and snow leopards even put up a bit of a fight, which makes them all the tastier.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
The back-and-forth continues until I’ve mentally mapped all of the paths I could take, and get back to my room.
Our bond is so strong after all the time spent together after my attack, and now riding every day since the gala, that we only fully disconnect when we want to.
Which, for me, is usually only when Hunter and I are messing around.
The rest of the time, it’s as though we left each other on speaker phone while we go about our business away from the phone.
Quiet background noise, but able to listen in when we want to.
My glam squad shows up just after I’ve showered and eaten an early lunch.
They pull out all of the stops—essential oils to smell for relaxation, cucumbers on my eyes while my nails are painted.
Meanwhile, I listen to them talk about everyone expected to be in attendance.
They give me the rundown on all of the single nobles and the slimy cheaters to look out for. Men who are known to come to these events and leave their wives at home so they can enjoy other women's company for the night.
When they’re each a couple of glasses into the champagne they had brought for me to enjoy, the gossip turns from the attendees to the guests of honor themselves.
“I would kill my own sister to marry him,” the woman doing my makeup sighs wistfully. “She really is the luckiest woman alive.”
“Oooh, I heard luck had nothing to do with it. Those two have been destined for each other since birth, not surprising with how gorgeous they both are…but I heard that a month after the last time she went and spent “intimate” time with him on the front line, she found out she’s pregnant!”
“No way! No wonder they are moving everything along so fast.”
In the mirror, I see my hairstylist nodding enthusiastically behind me. “Can’t have the future heir being born out of wedlock, that would stir up all sorts of unwanted attention.”
My stomach sours, and for the first time since I got here, I consider going along with Tyr’s plan to abort the mission.
How can I kill a father-to-be in front of his pregnant fiancée?
The baby would grow up without a father.
Or maybe the despair would make her miscarry, and I’d be responsible for not one but two deaths. Bile rises in my throat.
“Tyr—"
“All done! Take a look.”
The initial shock when I look at myself in the mirror is apparently quite funny to the women who have been pampering me for hours, but truthfully, I had forgotten about my morphed features, so looking up to see a blonde in the mirror takes more than a few seconds to adjust to.
“Your car is already here, hurry into your dress so we can tie it.”
“Remember to step into it so you don’t mess up your hair!” my stylist reminds me through the door.
“Tyr, I don’t know if I can do this if she’s pregnant.”
“I want you out of this, but I wouldn’t base my decision on anything those two say.” I hear him chuff before he continues, “One of them thought the bellman was a hitman here to take out the King’s court.”
“Why is that so funny? I’m a spy here to take out the prince?”
“You aren’t overweight and missing an eye and a leg.”
I laugh out loud, then try to cover it with a cough. “Touché.”
I take a few deep breaths and center myself like my therapist and I have spent months working on as I secure my dagger from Hunter to my leg; one more thing to keep me grounded.
“Okay, I can do this. If she is pregnant, then we abort, and I find my way out. If she isn’t, then the plan moves forward.”
“Ready to pick you up when you are.”
“Ms. Beaumont, are you alright in there? We can tie the neck for you if you need.”
I open the door, “Almost ready! Just need to grab my mask, jewelry, and invitation from the safe.”
I walk to the desk and stand with my back facing them so I can type in my code and get the contents without them seeing.
I quickly slide the vial into the small pocket hidden between my boobs, secure my mask, and slip my tennis bracelet and cascading earrings into place.
As my handler and glam squad had said, my ride is out front waiting, but I was sorely mistaken when I assumed it would be a car.
No, waiting for me is a beautiful white horse with silver tack harnessed to an open carriage trimmed with polished silver. A light blanket is lying over the back of the cushioned seat, just in case I get cold.
“My lady.”
The coachman bows slightly before extending his hand and helping me inside.
“When we pick you up this evening, you will have a closed carriage, but since you traveled in for this joyous occasion, we wanted you to have a chance to see the city.”
“Thank you. Truly. This is incredible.”
“May I be the first to tell you that you look beautiful this evening.”
I know I don’t look like myself, but the compliment still makes me feel good, and I can feel my cheeks pinken.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
I’m not sure who gawks more during my ride to the castle, the people lining the sidewalks to see the party guests arrive, or me. Despite not having the faintest idea who I am, most of the crowd still cheers and waves, and I find myself playing along and waving in return.
I’m calm and collected until we make the final ascent to the castle.
The road curves upward, the castle rising higher with every turn, and my composure fractures. I take in slow, measured breaths, keeping my face neutral enough that my driver will see excitement, not fear, as I work to calm my racing heart.
“You are okay. I can see you.”
“Tyr, what do you mean you can see me?” I look around me slowly, smile fixed as I panic internally, scanning the sky for him. “You are supposed to be far away from here. Safe and waiting.”
“I'm safe, Little Faren. Don't forget, you're the one walking into the enemy’s home. I am right where I need to be, and no one can see me.”
After waiting in the drop-off line for just a few minutes, the coachman is out, hand extended once more as I try to gracefully step out of the carriage and down the narrow wooden steps.
“Good luck, my lady. Should you not need a ride home, just let the staff know, and they will inform me. If not, I will be here whenever you are ready to leave.”
I guess maybe nobles are a bit more like common people than I imagined. Go to a party, find a hookup for the night, and the biggest question is, ‘Your place or mine?’
My high heels clack across the pristine white floors as so many cameras flash that I’m temporarily blinded.
When I make it through the paparazzi and my vision clears, a man around my age checks my invitation before guiding me to stand in a line of women waiting by a closed set of double doors.
I’m about to ask what we’re waiting for when the doors open and the escort for the first woman in line announces her name, and she gracefully makes her way down the stairs to the awaiting crowd. From what I can tell, the crowd is a mix of married couples and single men.
Based on their rapt attention on the incoming women, I would bet that the royal family waits to make their grand entrance once their guests have arrived.
“I feel like a pig waiting for slaughter,” I tell Tyr.
“You sure you want to keep Hunter? There is about to be a room full of noblemen fighting for your attention,” he jokes.
“I’m here to kill their prince and get home to the man I love. Noble socialites aren’t really my type.”
“Lady Sophie Beaumont of Wickenburg.” My escort's voice pulls me from my conversation, and I begin my mantra as I descend the rounded staircase.
Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Don’t trip.
A chuckle and some whisperings try to distract me, but despite looking out to the crowd, my attention is solely focused on each step I take.
When I finally reach the bottom of the steps, a burly man in a tux offers me his arm. I’ve seen someone do this for every woman that has come down, seemingly customary to take each woman to get a drink as soon as her feet leave the last step.