“I don’t know,” Ryan said. “One minute she had you up against a wall, and the next it was like she wasn’t there. You fell and you wouldn’t wake up. You were shaking and I couldn’t—”
I reached up and cupped his face. “I’m okay,” I said.
“I know,” he said, but he leaned into my hands. “It’s just that—fuck. Don’t do that again, okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “I won’t let old women press me against walls and make me have weird visions. Got it.”
“Asshole,” he said, sounding disgustingly fond.
Gods, I loved the fuck out of him.
And I was about to tell him as much when another thought hit me, one far more important. “The King,” I said. “Oh fuck, we have to get to the King.”
Ryan’s eyes hardened because he immediately went to the same thought I had: assassin. A change overcame him, skin thrumming, hands tightening. I wasn’t dealing with a concerned boyfriend anymore. This was the Knight Commander of the Castle Guard, whose one job was to protect the Crown and all its extensions.
And he was fucking pissed.
Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart looked up at the guards down the hall and barked, “Sound the alarm. Now.”
Chapter 3: The King is Such a KILF
BELLS WERE clanging throughout the castle as Ryan and I raced toward the King’s offices above the throne room. A section of the knights were already in motion to take any member of the King’s Court to the lower levels where the dungeons were fortified against any outside attack. My parents and Tiggy and Gary would have been corralled either way, depending upon where they were in the castle. I tried not to think of them too much, instead focusing my attention on the job in front of me: protecting the Grand Prince and Good King Anthony of Verania.
It was one of the first lessons Morgan had taught me when he had taken us away from the slums: the walls could crumble around us, the floor might shake beneath our feet, the stars could rain down atop our heads in blazing bursts of rock and fire, but nothing would matter more than protecting the King. “He’s the reason Verania stands tall and proud,” Morgan had said as I’d stared at him with wide eyes. “Without him, or without someone to take his place like the Prince, Verania could fall into darkness. The people are what make Verania great. But it’s the King that holds us all together.”
Granted, the King wasn’t one to just stand aside and let others protect him without lifting a finger, much to Morgan’s consternation. It certainly didn’t help matters when the King would rather be in the thick of things than standing on the sidelines. He knew of his own importance, but he wouldn’t let others fight his battles for him. He’d be side by side with his people if at all possible.
And so it was that I had to trust Ryan’s knights to take care of my family if they weren’t going to be with us. I had a job to do, one job, and that was to make sure the King and Justin were safe. Morgan would be doing the same.
We hit the second floor of the castle and turned left, running down a long hallway with high ceilings. Flags decorated the walls on either side of us, symbolizing the major cities of Verania. Maids and butlers were scurrying around us, trying to make their way to the throne room where they’d be surrounded by the Castle Guards.
A group of Ryan’s knights stood in front of the doors leading to the King’s offices, Pete, who had known me even before I’d come to the castle, amongst them. He looked wary as we approached, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. “Report,” Ryan snapped as we got within hearing distance.
“Secured, sir,” Pete said. “Nothing in or out except for known personnel. King and Prince in the safe room.”
“Morgan?” I asked.
“Already here,” Pete said. “Just appeared out of nowhere, like he usually does.”
“One day he’s going to teach me how to do that,” I muttered.
Pete smiled at me. “Don’t rightly know if that’d be something we’d want, you being able to sneak up behind us.”
“I’m a delight,” I told him.
“Is now really the time for this?” Ryan growled.
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, Pete. You know how he gets when he’s all worked up over something.”
“Oh boy, do I ever.”
“I don’t get like anything—”
“You kind of do,” one of the knights said, voice muffled through the armored helmet over his head. “Mostly.” He withered under Ryan’s glare.
Gods, I loved the knights.
I turned at the sound of hooves on stone and immediately had a weight lifted off my shoulders.