It’s early morning when we return to the city. Roark takes us through a secret tunnel system that he says will let us out just beyond the palace gates. I feel exhausted, excited, and nervous all at once. On one hand, I know I’m actively breaking laws I don’t even understand in a city I understand even less. We could probably both be executed for being together while I’m supposed to be promised to Prince Titus, but I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt, and I know I have Roark to thank for that.

“I don’t want this to end,” I say after we’ve gotten out of the car and started to climb our way out of some kind of underground parking garage for super cars.

“I don’t intend to let it,” says Roark. “But it won’t be easy.”

“Can you promise me one thing?” I ask.

“Anything,” he says, stopping to run a hand through my hair and look into my eyes.

“Well,” I say, feeling stupid and needy, but knowing I need to say what’s on my mind anyway. “Everything between us us moving so fast. I just want to know you feel the same way I do, that I’m not just some silly little girl falling in love with a man who might only want to have some fun.”

“Falling in love?” he asks with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Oh God. My face feels like it’s on fire. I duck my head into his chest, holding onto his shoulders. “That’s not… well--I just--”

“I’m just upset you haven’t already fallen in love like I have,” he says, tilting my chin up until we’re face to face. “Because it sounds like I’m way ahead of you.”

I kiss him, standing on my tip toes and pulling up on his shoulders to reach his mouth as I do, but I kiss him for all I’m worth, like I’m pouring all the anxiety and hope I’ve ever felt into this single moment. And then for good measure, I reach behind him and squeeze his firm ass, biting my lip and pulling back. “Can you say it?” I ask.

“Say what?” he asks.

“You know. Make it official. Say the words. I… blank… you…” I say.

He laughs. “I fucked you?”

I slap his chest. “Roark! Don’t make me beg.”

“Oh? Is that option on the table? Because I would--”

A footsteps scuff against the stone ahead, drawing both our attention. I turn to see two men in royal colors running up the staircase we just kissed in, and I realize rumors are about to turn to fact very quickly.

Roark tenses, jaw flexing as he watches after the men.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“It means my brother and my mother are either about to declare war on us, or I don’t know them at all.”

We make the rest of the trip to the palace on edge. Roark watches every guard or noble who passes us suspiciously until he’s sure they aren’t a threat. Instead of turning left through the main entrance of the palace toward my rooms, he takes me to the right, down a long corridor I haven’t seen before.

“Where are we going?” I whisper.

“Someplace they won’t know to look. Not yet at least,” says Roark.

He knocks hard on a door near the end of the corridor. A man groans from inside before he swings the door open, squinting at us from sleepy eyes.

“So it’s bad, then?” asks the man.

Roark leads me inside without answering the man. “Elizabeth, this is Dirk. If he touches you or even looks anywhere below your chin, tell me so I can cut his balls off. Okay?”

“Damn, I can’t even look at her neck?” asks Dirk.

“Not unless you want to lose your balls,” says Roark.

I smile shyly. “Hi, Dirk,” I say.

He bows, carefully keeping his eyes above my head as he does. He gives Roark a sarcastic look to see if he approves, to which Roark nods. Someone groans from his bed and sits up. My eyes widen when I see two large breasts and a red headed girl with a freckled nose. She frowns, notices Roark, and then pulls the blankets up to cover herself.

“Just some friends, Tayla,” says Dirk offhandedly.

“My name is Genese,” says the girl.

Dirk frowns, looking up and squinting. “That’s right,” he says quietly. “Tayla was the one I had with breakfast.”

“You’re disgusting,” says Roark.

“I’m performing a valuable service to the city,” argues Dirk. “I train these young, impressionable women in the proper methods of lovemaking and they go on to make many men happy. You should give me an award or something.”

“You said I was your first,” says Genese.

Dirk sighs, giving us both a look that says he will handle this. “Yes, darling. I said that because it’s what you needed to hear. Always tell your lover what they need to hear. The truth is secondary to pleasure.”

Dirk looks smugly at us, but doesn’t notice the naked girl storming toward him with a raised hand. He turns just in time to catch the full force of her slap. She gathers her dress, throws it on, and then hurries out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Well,” says Dirk. “Sorry about that. She was quite rude in the end, wasn’t she?”

“Are there any more girls in there?” asks Roark, who prods the crumpled blankets on Dirk’s bed.

“What do you think I am, a monster?”

“I think you’re a perverted bastard,” says Roark.

“You do know me well,” says Dirk.

“You said this place was safe?” I ask hesitantly.

“They will already be watching our rooms,” says Roark, who moves to the window and peers outside. “I just need a little time. I have a plan to even the odds.”

Dirk gives me a sidelong glance. “When Roark says he has a plan, he means he knows who he’s going to punch first.”

“I can hear you,” growls Roark from the window.

Dirk continues whispering to me in the same tone. “I suspect he also has the ears of a cat. And I’ve heard he has the cock of a--”

“Dirk!” shouts Roark, who rounds on the smaller man.

I try to suppress my smile. Despite the obvious danger, I feel an odd sense of calm. I guess I just can’t look at a man like Roark and imagine he won’t find a way to fix all this. And even if he can’t, I’m beginning to realize I’d wouldn’t trade the few weeks I’ve had with Roark for anything, not even a long, boring life on the outside.

“Have you fucked anyone in your guest bedroom recently?” Roark asks Dirk.

Dirk looks thoughtful. “No, actually. Maybe I should though--a bed without lovemaking is a sad thing.”

“We’re taking it tonight,” says Roark. “Do you have anybody you trust that you can bring in on this?”

“That depends. It would help if I knew exactly what ‘this’ is.”

“I’m working on that. I know we’re going to need men who aren’t afraid of getting a little bloody, and we’re going to need them to be loyal.”

“Well,” says Dirk. “The first part’s easy. The second though? That’ll be tougher.”

“I can’t do anything from here,” says Roark, who looks at me with regret. “The longer we wait, the more time Titus has to organize his men to capture or kill us. I’ve got to go out for a few hours.”

“Let me come with you,” I suggest.

“You’ll be safer here. There’s no guarantee I won’t be surrounded by guards before I even have a chance to gather allies.”

“Then don’t go,” I plead. My stomach turns over to think of him going out there alone. The palace is crawling with guards, and from the sounds of it, Titus has all of them in his pocket now.

“Dirk,” says Roark, who fixes his friend with an icy glare. “Protect her with your life while I’m gone. Do you understand me? Elizabeth is going to be your fucking queen, and if so much as a hair on her head is harmed, it won’t matter how far back we go, because I’ll end you. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” says Dirk.

Though his tone is harsh, Roark fist bumps Dirk’s shoulder and gives him a gruff nod, which Dirk returns.

Roark favors me with a quick but fierce kiss and a hug, then he’s gone. I cross my arms tightly, feeling suddenly cold. “You think he’ll be okay?” I ask.

“Roark is a tough bastard. He doesn’t talk about it like his brother, but he’s more skilled with a blade than any man I’ve ever seen. Granted, I doubt Prince Titus will instruct his guards to do the honorable thing and use the edges on their Blades. They probably have orders to shoot to kill.”

An image of Roark bloodied from dozens of gunshot wounds flashes in my mind and makes me feel sick. I lean against the wall, looking down at the ground and frowning, trying to push the thought from my mind.

“Sorry. I’m not exactly helping, am I?” asks Dirk.

“It’s okay. I just can’t believe it all came to this. Over me, of all people. And I feel like a terrible person for my part in it. I feel a little sick to my stomach… If anyone gets hurt over this, it’ll be because of me.”

“I wouldn’t think of it like that,” says Dirk. “We’re all big boys. We make our own decisions. Titus is a real prick, and good on you for spurning his spoiled ass. I personally have been waiting for a chance to stick it to him, so I should actually be thanking you.”

I smile. “Thanks, Dir--”

There’s a bang on the door so loud I nearly fall over in surprise. Dirk moves to his bed and pulls a chrome-plated Blade from under his pillow. He clicks the edge free and aims the gun at the door. “Get in the back room,” he says to me quietly.

The door shakes on its hinges like it was hit with a battering ram. I hear voices outside now. Urgent, raised voices. I rush toward the back room just as gunshots ring out. I look back to see splinters exploding from the door as holes open up near the hinges. Dirk fires back into the closed door, squinting against the debris flying his way.

I close the door, pressing my back against the wood and squeezing my eyes shut. “Oh God,” I whisper. “Please be okay, Roark. Please be okay.”

More gunshots explode out from the other room. It’s impossible to guess what’s going on, except that I know Dirk is alive so long as I still hear guns firing. There’s a brief pause in the shooting and my heart lurches because I know what silence will mean. But then I hear more shooting, this time it’s less frequent though. There’s one more quick round of firing and I hear a loud thump near the door I’m hiding behind.

No more shooting. I listen closely and hear footsteps. The room I’m in has no windows. No way out. Not even anything I could conceivably use as a weapon. I remember the way they shot through the other door to get through and quickly move away from the door to slide under the bed and lie flat on my stomach.

More gunfire rings out. I see shards of wood spiral and slide across the floor as I lay beneath the bed, trying to control my breathing. I think again to Roark’s slow, confident, and steady breaths, closing my eyes and thinking of him to slow my breathing until it’s not so loud. I watch three men’s boots as they step into the room and surround the bed.

My heart pounds against the floor. They know I’m under here. It’s only a matter of--

A face appears in the narrow space between the bottom of the bed and the floor. The man sneers. “Found you, little princess.” I try to squirm away, but it’s useless. There’s a man on the other side of the bed too.

One of them grips my ankle and yanks on me, tugging me half-way out from under the bed. I claw and struggle to get back under, even if I’m only fighting for moments of freedom at this point. Another hand clamps down around my wrist, pulling me all the way out from under the bed. I’m lifted like a sack of garbage between the two men, one with my ankles and one with my wrists. My dress hikes up to my hips as they carry me and I uselessly try to cover myself, struggling to free my hands to stop these men from gawking at me.

“I see why the princes are fighting over her,” laughs one of the men.

“Think Titus would know if we had a little fun with her before we deliver her?” asks the man who walks behind the two holding me.

“Course he would,” says the man holding my wrists. “He’d cut off your cock and serve it to his fucking dogs, too. And that’s if you were lucky.”

I try again to fight free, but the man holding my wrists motions for the guard at my legs to let me down.

“She can walk, Mathis. Put her down.”

I straighten my dress, fighting back tears of humiliation and anger. I get a better look at the guard who had me put down now and see he’s older than I would’ve expected, maybe in his forties with streaks of gray at his temples. He discreetly winks to me when I catch his eye. I frown in confusion, but he looks away as the other guards move to lead me out of the small bedroom.

Dirk’s bedroom looks like a warzone. Three guards are dead around the doorway, and Dirk sits slumped against the wall clutching a wound in his stomach that’s bleeding freely. “Sorry, Princess,” he groans when we emerge. “Roark’s going to fucking kill me if this wound doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I cry out as I’m pulled through the room, nearly losing the contents of my stomach when I step in a puddle of blood. All of this because of me. Because this place wasn’t enough to keep me happy, because I was too frightened to follow through with the marriage, because I wanted more.

I let the guards lead me the rest of the way toward the royalty-only section of the palace, feeling numb.

I’m eventually left in a round room more elegantly decorated than any I’ve seen in the palace--which is saying something. Two of the guards retreat, but the older guard with gray at his temples lingers for a moment to whisper in my ear. “My name is Kato,” he says. “I’m loyal to Prince Roark. I’ll do what I can to make sure he knows where you are, and then I’ll do anything in my power after that to get you freed. Don’t be reckless, Princess. Help is coming.”

Before I can respond, he’s gone and the door is closed.

I’m alone in the circular room. Even though I know it’s useless, I try the door the guards left through but find it locked tightly. I’m about to try one of the other two doors in the circular room when one opens, revealing Queen Korinthia, who wears a black gown with fabric at her shoulders that makes her look like she has the wings of a raven. I flinch back when I see her eyes. Predatory eyes lined thickly with mascara.

“Sit,” she commands, gesturing to a small couch at my side.

I shake my head, trying not to shiver visibly. “I’ll stand,” I say.

Her calm face contorts in rage. She chops her hand through the air and shouts so loudly that her voice booms through my chest. “Sit!”

I flop down onto the couch, back rigid and eyes wide.

“You’ve been a terrible disappointment, Elizabeth,” she says, moving to a small bar at the edge of the room and pouring herself red wine in a crystal goblet. “We invested so much in you. So much time, money, and planning. All you had to do was smile, look pretty, and spread your legs when the time came. And you did all that, didn’t you? But you spread your legs for the wrong fucking prince,” she snaps, slamming the glass down and shattering it on the floor.

I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut.

“It’s no matter,” she says, suddenly calm again. She moves to the bar and pours herself another drink like she didn’t just smash her previous glass on the ground. “We’re going to fix this mess you’ve created. Perhaps we should thank you. Without you, we would’ve had to hope our assasination of Roark never reached the public. Now we can behead him in the city square if we like, and how the crowds will cheer.” She smiles cruelly, looking out a window and cradling her wine as she imagines it. “And once you’ve borne Titus a son, you can join your lover in the afterlife.”

“I’m never going to help you,” I say, voice trembling with anger and disgust. “I’ll kill myself before I do.”

She gives me an unimpressed purse of her lips. “We don’t need your help. We just need a crown on your head and we need your womb. Thankfully, we can have a small wedding and well, the rest won’t be pleasant without your cooperation, but you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Roark is going to stop you,” I say. “He’s never going to let this happen.”

“Roark is a capable man, yes. He will try to stop us. But that’s precisely why he will fail. We have the court of public opinion on our side, numbers on our side, and we also know his only possible move is to come after you. He has no choice but to march directly into our trap. And let me tell you a little secret, princess,” she says, leaning close enough that I can smell the wine on her breath and the stench just beneath. “Capable men die just like cowards and fools. My husband was a very capable man,” she adds with a slight quirk of her brow.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

“Of course I killed him. My husband thought I was just a pretty bauble to set on his shelf. Something for his subjects to look at and feel envy. You know what he did when I told him I wanted to play a more important role in ruling the kingdom? He laughed.” She sips her wine, shaking her head. “He wasn’t laughing when I smothered his drunken ass with a pillow, though. The men of this world have always underestimated us.”

“And making me breed a child against my will doesn’t offend your feminist agenda?” I ask.

She sniffs. “I’m not a feminist. I want power to belong to those who deserve it. Roark thinks he deserves the crown because he was born to it. He thinks because he’s powerful and clever it should be his. He lacks the conviction to take it. Real power isn’t given. It’s taken. He never learned that.”

“You surprised your husband,” I say quietly. “I think your son is going to surprise you.”