EPILOGUE
X
I WIPE REMNANTS of drywall from my shoulder as the sound of drilling whines through the ceiling.
“You’re getting sloppy, X,” she scolds from the shadows. “You’ve been followed.”
I step to the left and watch the drywall dust on the carpet to my right.
I raise my brows, knowing that she can see me even though I cannot see her.
“Really?” I ask. “Because if that were true, why are they a floor above?” I nod toward the flashing blue light on the desk in front of her. “Perhaps they have no idea I’m here. Perhaps they weren’t even looking until a server signal popped up on their screen.” I imagine her dark eyes boring holes through me.
She lets out a sigh. “You are still as arrogant as ever.”
I grin and take a step forward. She doesn’t stop me because she knows I’m still not close enough to see.
“And you’re still as easy to ruffle as ever. And, my Lady, I do enjoy ruffling you.”
There is a long silence but for the drilling overhead. They will break through soon. We’re on borrowed time, but then again, we always are.
“Tell me,” she says, her voice firm, though I detect the slightest tremor. Our parrying is over. “Is he safe?”
I open my mouth to say her name—or maybe her call sign, D. But I stop myself as I always do. If I don’t speak it aloud, no one else can hear. If I don’t see her in the flesh, they cannot torture her existence from me.
I bite back a self-satisfied grin. I’ve survived the worst any captor has had to offer—whips, brands, knives sharp enough to draw blood yet small enough that bleeding out would be a long, slow death.
Much to the disappointment of all who’ve tried, I’m not dead. Unfortunately for them—they are.
“X,” she pleads, as if I’d ever falter on a mission.
“He is safe,” I say. “He and the princess are enjoying an extended honeymoon on a private island off the coast. They will return soon, but plans for the celebration have been postponed until the king decides what to do with the traitorous queen. The prince, though, will rule at his father’s side, and the princess will serve as ambassador to our neighbors.”
“And Rosegate?” she asks.
A chunk of ceiling falls to the floor.
“We don’t have much time,” I say. “They will break through. And Rosegate is secure for the time being, but we’re still trying to figure out if the queen’s motive was merely to take the throne or to aid Nightgardin in Edenvale’s fall.”
She pulls the thumb drive, the source of the flashing light, from the laptop’s USB port.
“We won’t be here when they break through,” she says, and I hold up my palm, my hand curling into a fist to catch the small projectile. “I want the oldest prince to remain under surveillance, but you are relieved of immediate duty when it comes to him.”
I nod. More drywall falls. I clip the carabiners to the belt loops on my trousers and wonder for the first time if the material will hold. I guess we’re about to find out.
“What is the next mission?” I ask, knowing there is one.
I hear the wheels of her chair roll and can tell from the cadence of her breathing that she’s now standing.
“It’s all on the drive,” she says.
I look down at the blue light in my palm. “The heir spare,” I say, knowing without a computer monitor in front of me to corroborate. This is exactly what Nikolai wanted anyway. He will be none the wiser when my attentions shift.
“He is lost,” she says, “the second son.” Her voice grows distant as she does what she does best and disappears into a world that used to recognize her in seconds—one that now knows nothing of her existence.
Lost, I think. What if he doesn’t want to be found?
The ceiling caves in, and because being found is not on my agenda for the day, I unhook one of the carabiners and leap from the fifteenth-floor window.
I throw the bungee cable over the line and let gravity and the southerly wind do their job.
I skim over taxis, buses, locals and tourists, none of them aware of my existence overhead.
When I land on the hotel balcony, I make a mental note to thank the tailor of this suit. The strength of the belt loops is exquisite.
I brush away any further signs of ceiling dust and pick up my tumbler from the balcony ledge, draining the rest of my scotch. Then I thrust open the balcony doors to find a delicious brunette naked on the bed, a blindfold over her eyes and her wrists still bound to the bedpost. She purses her luscious, red-painted lips into a pout.
“You said you were running out to grab your drink. You’ve been gone for at least five minutes, X.”
I check my watch. “Seven, darling.”
She writhes against the satin sheet and bites her lip. “Well, I’m counting the minutes until you fuck me.”
I tap my breast pocket and make sure the flash drive is stored securely. Then I tear off the jacket.
“Spread your legs and count down from three,” I command, and she writhes again.
I unbutton my shirt.
“Three,” she moans.
I lose the pants.
“Two.”
I press my knees into the edge of the bed and run a hand up her thigh, my thumb teasing her folds where I left her drenched with anticipation.
“One,” she whimpers.
Time’s up.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from by Katee Robert.
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