Blackmailing His Bride (Court of Paravel) - Page 53

The corridor is lined with massive windows that are spattered with rain, and there are ornate crystal and brass lights overhead. Everything’s as it should be, and I’m feeling the first sparkle of happiness that I’ve felt in days.

And that’s when it happens.

A deafening boom behind us. A split second later, a force rushes down the corridor toward us. Thunderous.

Overpowering.

There isn’t time to think. I grab Wraye and push her against the wall, shielding her with my body as every window around us explodes.

Alarms are sounding. Debris is falling all around us. I turn my head and peer back the way we came, and see flames beyond the dust. The offices are on fire. The offices where Wraye and I were just moments ago. If we hadn’t come this way, we would have been killed.

Against my chest, Wraye sobs, once.

I need to get her out of here. Glancing around, I see that the corridor ahead seems safe, but who knows if another bomb has been planted somewhere else in the building. The quickest way out is through the shattered window. Using my sleeve, I clear the broken glass from the windowsill and jump the four feet down to the garden bed.

I hold up my arms to the Archduchess, who stands shaking, framed in the open window. “Come on, quickly. I’ve got you.”

Trembling and with tears streaking her face, she perches on the sill and swings her legs over. It’s not far, but she’s so terrified that her muscles have seized up. I bite the inside of my cheek, resisting the urge to tell her to hurry it up. I need to get her away from this building before something else happens.

She jumps, and I catch her and set her on the ground. We walk as quickly as she’s able back around to the palace office gates. Dozens of City Guards, King’s Guards and palace workers are milling about on the debris-strewn ground, staring in shock at the smoking building.

A ragged shout pierces the air. “Wraye.”

The Archduke comes running at full tilt and wraps his arms around his wife. His face is the same shade of gray as his hair. She buries her face in the front of his red coat and shudders with sobs.

“I thought you were inside,” Levanter whispers, and then glances at me. “I thought…”

“She was unwell and I was bringing her around to you,” I explain. “We were in the far corridor.”

The Archduke nods, his hand buried in Wraye’s hair, too overcome to speak.

“Is the King safe?” I ask urgently.

“He’s not at the palace. He was on the way back from a function, and he’s being taken to a safe house.”

Thank god for that.

Levanter swallows and meets my gaze. “Thank you, Rasmussen. I thought she—I was afraid that she—”

We both look at the burning building where black smoke is billowing and flames are roaring through the open windows. This had to have been Tieman’s work. I don’t know why, but he’s been too interested in this part of the palace for weeks. Even without the plans he asked Sachelle to steal, he managed to sneak a fucking bomb in.

“I’ll deal with this for the moment. You look after the Archduchess,” I tell him. It’s Levanter and the King’s Guard’s duty to take charge at the palace when there’s an emergency, but his wife needs him right now.

Levanter glances around, and then back at me. “I’ll see Wraye into an ambulance and come straight back. Coordinate with Corporal Vanderburgh, will you?”

Vanderburgh is second-in-command of the King’s Guard. “Of course.”

Dozens more City Guards come running from the station across from the palace. The goddamn fools. This bomb might have been a diversion for something else.

I grab one of the sergeants. “Take these men and go straight back. The King’s Guard will secure this area. There are witnesses inside the guard station who need to be protected at all costs.”

“Yes, sir.”

I watch him go, and then search the smoke-covered crowd of red-coated men and palace workers for Vanderburgh.

One of the King’s Guard hails me and hurries to my side, coughing from the smoke, his eyes red and streaming. “Is Lady Sachelle safe, sir?”

“She’s on her way home by now. She’s fine.”

But the guard shakes his head. “No, sir. Lady Sachelle arrived at the palace just moments before the explosion. I saw her on the steps with her bodyguards, but not since then. I think she was going to see you.”

I feel like the explosion has hit me again.

Sachelle. On the steps.

Here.

Coming inside to see me at my office, which is, at this moment, engulfed in flames and seems to have been the very center of the explosion.

I dig my phone out of my pocket and read the messages I missed while I was looking after the Archduchess. There’s a message from one of Sachelle’s bodyguard, telling me that she’s insisted they accompany her to see me.

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