Looking down at the newspapers and intelligence reports spread on top of the table, I drum my fingertips against my thigh and sigh heavily. Things are happening fast—much faster than any of us would like. And now, with Prince Gladrell’s apparent betrayal, things are heating up.

In one of our early meetings, the Prince was adamant on having us share the location of the hideout. Lucien and Richard drew a line in the sand, though, and it’s because of them that we’re still safe.

“Time is running out, William,” Malcolm tells me, the tone in his voice a dire one. He sits on one of the chairs around the large table, leaning back against it and propping his feet up. “Soon enough we’ll have to act,” he continues, rubbing his tired eyes. None of us have been getting enough sleep, and it’s starting to show. With just seven of us coordinating the whole rebel movement, this whole mission is definitely our most challenging one, and the stakes have never been higher.

“I know...but if Prince Gladrell pulls the rug from under our feet, we’re pretty much screwed. We don’t have enough money as it is, and without him...” Sighing, I sink down onto my chair, absently gazing at the newspapers and briefs cluttering the table. So much information in there, and almost nothing that is of any use to us.

“Snow,” Malcolm suddenly breathes out, taking his feet off the table and sitting up straight. Despite everything that happened between us, he still respects the Princess as a noblewoman.

“Hey,” I tell her, looking back at her over my shoulder. She’s coming down the stairs that lead to the upper floors, and she’s wearing a simple dress tonight, one that allows me a glimpse of the smooth skin between her breasts. Just one look at the way the fabric of her dress tightens up against the rising curve of her breasts, and I already feel my cock hardening up and pushing against my pants. I don’t know what it is about Snow, but she has cast a spell on all of us.

“Where’s everyone else?” she asks me, walking up the table and looking down at all the newspaper clippings.

“Lucien and Derek are in the armory, and the others are making a few calls,” I tell her, praying to God that, with all the calls they’ve been making, they manage to secure us some funding. Without money, we’re pretty much screwed. It’s one of the harsh truths in life; ideals are fine, but there’s not much you can do without money.

“Any interesting news?” she continues, sitting down on one of the chairs and grabbing a few of the newspaper clippings. When I was told we were supposed to protect Princess Snow, I thought we’d have to deal with a spoiled brat that would just get in the way...But Snow’s none of that; she wants to be an active part in what we’re doing.

“Not really,” I reply with a sigh, running one hand through my hair. “It’s all the same...Moira’s tightening her hold on the country, just like we expected her to. She has already started to replace ministers and high-ranking officials in the Army. Anyone who’s loyal to your father is being relieved of government duty. She’s building an echo chamber of her own.”

“That’s because she doesn’t even want the government to have a voice,” Snow replies distractedly, her attentive gaze now focused on one of the intelligence briefs.

“No, she doesn’t,” Malcolm agrees. “She wants her voice to be the only one. But there’s more; she has already started to nationalize some of the biggest companies as well. Supposedly a temporary measure, but there’s no doubt about what she’s trying to do. The military has already taken over the tiberium mines, and the —”

“Hold on,” Snow suddenly cuts him short, looking up from the brief she was reading. “Did you say tiberium mines?”

“Yeah, why? Does that ring a bell?”

“It does,” she nods, a worried glint in her eyes. “Gladrell is a major investor in a multinational tiberium export company.” Without saying a word, Malcolm and I exchange a quick glance. There’s more to Prince Gladrell than we assumed. How did something like this even get past us?

“Fuck,” Malcolm finally says, his voice fraught with tension. “The Queen has bought the Prince.”

“Either that or they’ve been working together right from the beginning,” I tell him, even though the when doesn’t really matter. Gladrell’s in bed with Moira, and that means we just lost one of our most important pieces in the giant chessboard that St. Carlta has turned into.

“He said he loved me,” Snow says suddenly, her voice lowered into a whisper. “I thought he meant it. I really did.”

“Snow...”

“I guess he always loved money more than anything else.” Pursing her lips, she takes a deep breath. “Gladrell’s a traitor. He betrayed me, my father, and the realm.” She tries to keep her voice steady, but I can feel it quivering. It must be hard; you spend your whole life being told you’re supposed to marry someone, and it turns out that someone was an active part in the destruction of your own family.

Pushing my chair back, I jump up to my feet and close the distance between me and Snow. “Hey,” I whisper, placing two fingers under her chin and making her look into my eyes. “It’ll be okay...”

“It’ll be okay,” Malcolm repeats, adding his voice to mine. “We’re here for you. Always.”

“Promise me,” she whispers, looking from me to Malcolm. Slowly going up to her feet, she runs her tongue between her lips and offers us a sad smile. “Promise me that you won’t ever leave me...that you’ll stick by me whatever happens.”

“We promise,” Malcolm and I say in one voice. Still with that sweet smile on her lips, she reaches for both our shirts and, grabbing them, she pulls us into her.

The moment I feel her knuckles brushing against my chest, every single drop of blood inside my body starts to boil.