I sat in the detention center, my hands cuffed in front of me. I had been here for over twenty-four hours and still had no idea why I was being detained. Even the warden whom I managed to coerce into giving me status updates on the wrecked lab was clueless as to why I was being held.

I had been waiting for Violet when the explosion had gone off.

I was lucky: the initial blast had blown me back into a hallway, shielding me from the worst of the heat and debris. Others had not been so fortunate. The vision of dead men and women scattered across the floor still filled my mind’s eye. But the worst were those still alive and wounded. They screamed their confusion and disbelief while staring at bisected body parts. One man was cradling his own arm to his chest, his face blank with shock.

I had done what I could to help. I had carried people out, and snapped orders to organize the few others who were capable of providing assistance.

But all the while, as I fought through that inferno in search of any remaining heartbeat, there was someone in particular I was trying to find—desperately. A young woman with long dark hair and startling gray eyes. I kept throwing myself into the building and looking for her, but returning with someone else. Each trip drained me more—emotionally more than physically. After the first hour, my thoughts turned to the worst, and I started wondering with each corpse I stepped over, which might belong to her.

And then my search had been stopped altogether; the wardens had come for me. Wardens who were supposed to be at my command—wardens I had trained—began to explain that they were taking me in for questioning. Before I could begin to make sense of the situation, one had slipped around my back and clamped handcuffs on me. Jim Trent. He’d never been a favorite among my colleagues.

They took me to a van parked outside the lab’s perimeter, locked me in the back and escorted me to the city’s primary detention facility… where I remained. After securing me in a cell, I was left without the slightest explanation.

A few wardens had walked past me since I’d arrived, but all had refused to answer a single question—except for one of the younger recruits whose name I had forgotten, but who I knew saw me as a role model. If not for him, I’d be completely without information even now. He gave me the current body count: The bombing had killed thirty-two people in the initial blast. Of the remaining survivors, most had been critically injured. Another ten had died from the severity of their wounds. The king, however, had escaped relatively unscathed.

The lad didn’t know why I was being detained, and as for Violet… he had no idea.

So, I had no choice but to wait, though it was excruciating. It was the not knowing that was the worst. I would almost rather learn that Violet was dead than sit there wondering, hoping. I had no idea where in the building she had been when the blast went off—if she was anywhere near the events hall, chances were that she didn’t make it. It was a wonder that the king got out alive, and that was with bodyguards assigned and trained to protect him—he rarely went anywhere without at least two of them.

A hollow feeling settled in the base of my stomach. The brief period that I’d known Violet had been a whirlwind. The evening Lee brought her to my cabin and requested for me to be her second guardian, I’d suspected I might be getting myself into more than I was willing. Violet was clearly a free-spirited and strong-minded young woman, but I never could have predicted that things would go so far so quickly, spiral so… out of control.

I still wasn’t sure how I could have let that kiss happen between us. I replayed that fateful night over in my head, as I had done dozens of times since. Her hair and clothes wet and clinging to her lithe body, she’d stood in my living room just a couple of feet in front of me. Her dusky eyes had flicked to my face and before I could react, her arms had slid over my shoulders, her soft lips locking with mine. Then she’d pulled herself against me—I relived every detail now: the way her chest pressed to mine; her harried breathing; her damp-pinewood scent; the quiet moan that had escaped her throat when I had closed my lips around hers, no longer physically capable of containing the passion coursing through my veins. Every part of me had burned for her that night, and if her husband hadn’t interrupted when he had, I knew that Violet and I would have done something we’d later regret.

That woman had awakened things in me I’d long thought I’d lost—emotions and impulses that I hadn’t felt since Miriam. She had reminded me what it was like to feel connected to another human being; to discover a kindred spirit in a world of meaningless interactions. Violet had made me break the single rule I was professionally trained to live by—never drop your guard.

As painful as it was, I’d done the right thing by telling her that we needed to cut things off after that night. I wasn’t one to make a cuckold out of any man—though I couldn’t deny that a part of me had still hoped I’d be able to see her from time to time, even if we couldn’t be alone together. Spotting her in the audience at a fight or visiting the lab with her husband would have done something to brighten my day, relive the few memories of what we’d once shared.

But now… now, in all likelihood, Violet was dead.

I wasn’t sure where that left me.

Hollow, yes. Hollow and numb. That was what I felt now. However else her death would manifest in me would be apparent soon enough, once the shock of the attack had worn off. My brain still felt shaken from the blast.

Finally, the door to my room opened and a flint-eyed warden stepped in. I didn’t recognize him, which likely meant he wasn’t going to answer my questions. He slipped a key in the door, keeping his eyes on me.

“Viggo Croft,” he said. “Come with me.”

“Where?” I asked, standing up. At my full height, I towered over the man.

He looked a touch intimidated as he eyed me over, but said nothing—he just held out his hand toward the door. Acquiescing, I strode forward.

The warden guided me along an empty hallway and into another room, which held a table and chair. He sat me down and released my cuffs, allowing me to rub my wrists and lean back.

“What is this about?” I demanded, my eyes trained on him. He still didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and left the room. But I was alone for only a few seconds before the door opened again.

By now, I felt ready to snap at whoever it was, but as the visitor stepped inside, my voice caught in my throat. It was King Maxen, clad in a deep burgundy suit. His jaw-length hair and goatee were singed, his skin perceptibly red. He gazing at me, his face contemplative and unreadable.

“Your Majesty,” I murmured.

He inclined his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “Mr. Croft.”

The last time I had seen the king face-to-face was when I had been brought before King Maxen and his father, King Patrick, for sentencing after my failed attempt to cover up Miriam’s crime. King Patrick had ordered me to work as a warden for four years without pay. I wasn’t sure why King Maxen had come to see me now; I couldn’t help but find his appearance ominous.

He moved over to the opposite chair and sat down, his posture betraying his exhaustion.

“The last twenty-four hours have been that of pure chaos, Mr. Croft,” the king said, placing a folder onto the table. I looked down at it, then back up at him.

“I saw the damage,” I replied hoarsely. “Who did this?”

The king tapped his fingers on the table. “Well, apparently, there are some who would have us believe that you are responsible.”

I stared at him, half-believing that I’d misheard. “What?”

The king waved his hand. “No need to be concerned—we know now that you weren’t. It just took us the better part of a day to realize that you were being framed… It seems that the culprits used your history against you to make it seem like your dissatisfaction with the government had brought you to a tipping point. But these terrorists got sloppy toward the end, and we were able to determine who they actually were.”

My hands clenched as I leaned forward. “Who?”

“Lee and Violet Bertrand.”

I froze, my mind unable to comprehend his words, much less accept them. “What?” I fought the urge to protest under the stern eye of the king, but the words were already forming on the tip of my tongue.

The king nodded and pushed the file in my direction. “It seems that Lee and Violet were originally sent here by Matrus, in order to steal something significant to our research. They succeeded in stealing the object. However, it turns out that one of them was even more radical than we thought—Mrs. Bertrand. It appears that, after completing the attack with her husband, she murdered not only him, but also Queen Rina and one of her advisors.”

My mouth dried out. This can’t be real. “Your Majesty,” I managed, “Violet wouldn’t do that. She’s not—”

The king arched an eyebrow. “Yes, we discovered what an adept little actress Mrs. Bertrand is. She had everyone fooled, including you; we have recovered documents about her true nature that are a little hard to ignore.” He glanced at the file. “I’ll give you a few minutes to take a look, shall I?”

He stood up, his chair scraping across the floor, and walked out. For a minute, I simply stared at the file, my brain still unable to accept the king’s assertion. It wasn’t possible. Violet was… not that person.

My mind suddenly flashed to the memory of her covered in the blood of the Porteque man, after she’d stabbed him to death. She had a tendency toward violence—that much I couldn’t deny. But…

My hands snatched up the folder and ripped it open.

Inside, I found an assortment of files and pictures. Violet… she was not a bakery girl, like she’d said. She had been in prison for the last five years and had murdered two females. The file even included pictures of her victims. It was… gruesome, to say the least. Her first arrest had come from attempting to smuggle her brother out of Matrus and into Patrus because he had failed the screening test. It seemed that after that, she’d snapped.

I sat back, a bitter seed growing inside me. I wanted to deny the information in front of me. I searched through the file again, looking for any indication that it had been fabricated. I couldn’t believe that Violet was responsible for all the death and carnage I had seen back at the lab. Yet the evidence didn’t change, no matter how much I tried to will it to.

The door opened as King Maxen let himself back in, breaking me out of my thoughts. He sat down across from me. “Her history isn’t pretty, is it?”

I was still struggling to process the information. It felt like I’d been hit by a ton of bricks. My brain moved slowly, unwillingly, toward the logical conclusion of these files. I shook my head. “No,” I rasped.

“She fooled everyone, Mr. Croft. Not just you, but even that partner of hers. She used him to get what she wanted and then killed him without a second thought.”

I nodded wordlessly, unable to speak. King Maxen allowed me a few more moments as I gazed down at the files again. Then, slowly, an icy grip began to coil around my heart, squeezing painfully tight. I could no longer deny that this was reality. The proof was before my very eyes.

The Violet I knew was a lie.

And there I had been, just minutes ago, mourning her death. Hell, I had walked through fire haplessly, pathetically, trying to find her.

She was alive. Escaped, and alive.

Rage and betrayal stabbed at me. I felt like an utter fool.

Her so-called innocence had been a lie meant to seduce me. She’d even kissed me, wrapped her body around mine like she was drowning… all lies.

My hands balled into fists.

“What is your plan?” I grated out.

The king made a show of collecting the papers, tapping them together until they were neatly stacked, and then placed them back into the file. I waited stiffly.

“I want you to find her,” the king said finally.

I nodded slowly, even as I swallowed hard. It made sense to send me, I supposed. I’d had the most contact with her, and was also the best suited to track her down.

“And what do I do once I find her?” I asked.

The king gazed at me, his eyes hard and flat. “Your priority is securing this.” He set a photo in front of me which depicted a silver egg. “This is integral for the continued survival of our society.”

Internally, I seethed with suspicion and doubt. I couldn’t care less about the rhetoric and propaganda: I knew the dark underside of Patrian life, and I wasn’t about to be bought off with pretty lies. But in this moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care— Violet and her betrayal were all that occupied my mind.

“I cannot stress the egg’s importance enough,” the king continued. “If it is lost, or if Matrus gets their hands on it, we will not be able to stand against them in the future… if it ever came to war.”

The king’s dark tone made me stare at him. I couldn’t miss the solemnity in his worn face.

“Again,” I said, “what do you want me to do with the girl?”

King Maxen leaned back. “If you can secure her and bring her back to Patrus for questioning, that is preferable. But if you cannot… kill her.”

Something in my chest rebelled at the thought. The thought of killing Violet was foreign and awakened feelings I wasn’t ready to process, so I pushed it down and nodded.

With that, the king rose and so did I, bowing before him.

“This will be a difficult task, Mr. Croft,” he said. “But if you succeed and return the egg, you will be reinstated to your full position of Chief Coordinator of wardens, with pay intact—that will be the least the kingdom can do for your continued loyal service.”

As if any of that even mattered to me anymore.

I didn’t know what did matter right now—all I could think about was the immediate task ahead of me.

After watching the king leave the room, I glanced at the mirrored glass on the opposite side of the conference table, at the man who might soon have to kill a woman for her crimes.

In spite of all Violet’s wrongdoings, somehow I couldn’t quite meet my own gaze.