As she followed the smoke, Angelica saw the destruction take a more horrible sight than broken windows and crushed cars in flames: mangled bodies.

Twelve to fifteen, all really just mangled, almost as if they were melted together, a pile of bodies. Most of them dead, some still alive. A few people wailed. Others were too shocked to even ask for help.

She paused, her trembling hand over her mouth as she watched the pile, casualties of an increase in militant violence in recent years.

At first, all she could do was look around shocked at the destruction and carnage.

“Let’s go,” Ludwig pulled her arm when she made to go to one severely injured man. “We can do nothing for those people but you can help others.”

The injured were being assisted at a triage that had been set up a safe distance away. The streets were blocked by flaming cars and the police, firemen, and a medical team were trying to put some order into the chaos.

The smoke and the pungent smell of destruction and death asphyxiated residents and medics trying to win a war against time while dozens were rushed to the hospitals nearby in screaming ambulances. The first responders were rightfully concerned with the injured, but there were other types of trauma that didn’t cause anyone to come running and offering aid.

She looked around, searching for something, but she didn’t know what. Angelica heard someone coughing. She turned and saw a young mother sitting on the curb downstream from the smoking wreckage. The woman was holding a baby to her chest, her hands trembling between frequent bouts of coughing as the smoke rolled over them.

“What do you need? I can help,” Ludwig offered.

“I want every victim cared for—not just the injured. How can we help them?” she asked, indicating a young mother and her baby, and then others nearby, covered in dust, paralyzed in shock.

Ludwig looked around quickly, saw something, then ordered Harrison, “Stay with her,” and took off in a sprint.

Angelica didn’t know what he was doing, but she was glad that he was doing something, and it pertained to what she wanted. She had to suppress the urge to cry as she took charge of the situation as much as she could. She didn’t command people individually—there were other people better suited to that—she used her authority to employ her personal skills: connecting with people and empathizing.

She went to the mother and baby, her guards following along, and led them across the street to a bus stop bench. She rushed over to an old man and slowly walked him over to the bench. As the old man gratefully took a seat next to the mother and child, Angelica looked around for more people needing someone to reach out and care and give them guidance.

By the time she had a small crowd of uncertain scared people gathered around the bus stop, a flatbed truck pulled up. Two men jumped off the back and Ludwig and the driver got out of the cab. The men began unloading material.

“What did you do?” Angelica asked.

“I got supplies,” he said simply, smiling as he looked into her lovely but distraught eyes.

Within minutes, the men with the truck had erected tents, set up folding chairs, and passed out blankets, bottles of water, and hand towels.

Angelica’s heart swelled, and she kissed him, right there in the street with flashing red and blue lights everywhere, the smoke still blowing down the street, fire hoses blasting the burning wreckage that was once an ambulance, and order slowly settling over the chaos, transforming the scene as everyone did something for somebody.

Angelica grabbed a hand towel, poured some bottled water over it and went to the young mother she had first assisted. She knelt down and gently began removing soot and dust from the baby’s face.

“Why must they continue to show this, this trash?” Celipa asked, exasperated. “It was only one moment in time, not the years of anguish we have suffered because of that family!”

Aguilar frowned as the princess’s face appeared on the small, old television set in yet another report about Angelica’s heroism after the explosion, how the princess had not hesitated to help the injured, organizing those who could walk, hugging frantic family members, helping with small children, even taking off her coat and giving it to a cold young girl.

“We need something bigger,” replied Americo. “Something that will make the people hate the princess and all that she’s attempting to repair.”

Aguilar pushed out of the chair and paced the floor as the others ranted and discussed among them what they could do to destroy the image the princess was creating. The princess had unequivocally rejected Abelardo’s advances and no matter what obstacles they were putting in her path, she was overcoming them.

They were all working for the common good, and the princess, no matter how hard she tried, was not the common good. Yet none of their current plans were working.

The Castella y Aragon family could not be their future—or rather, Aguilar Castro’s future. Because Aguilar couldn’t care less about the future of the Aragonese or anyone else.

“Gather the others.” Aguilar stopped in the middle of the barn and looked at the Dragonslayers, who stood, with a gleam in their eyes. “It’s time to formulate a final plan. It’s time to eliminate the princess and the royal family once and for all.”

Siobhan bit her lip as she heard the phone ring in her ear, her heart hammering in her chest. Not even the laid-back tempo of the topaz waters lapping at the talcum-powder beach made her feel better. Never had she felt so worried about the people that she barely knew. Angelica and Valantín had become part of her life in the most unexpected way, but she had grown to care for them.

“Hello?”

“Angelica,” she said, letting out a breath. “Are you alright?”

“Siobhan.” Angelica exhaled. “I’m fine. Everyone is fine.”

“But the explosion.” Siobhan had watched the footage more than once on the news, her stomach dropping every single time at how close it had been to taking the royal family away from her.

“We’re okay,” Angelica repeated. “Though I wish I could say the same for everyone else.”

“I saw you helping the injured,” Siobhan said, pride welling up in her chest. “I’m so proud of you and what you’re doing there in Aragon.”

“Thank you,” Angelica said, emotion in her voice. “It has been difficult, but I feel as if we have truly helped the people of Aragon. I want to do so much more, Siobhan. It’s hard to figure out where to even begin.”

“I know they appreciate all you are doing,” Siobhan answered, gripping the phone. She wished to be there instead of in the dreamy tropical paradise of the Seychelles; to hug them all and see in person that they were indeed fine. To help them. “Please, make sure you’re safe. Valantín and Maria as well.”

“We are safe,” her sister replied. “Perhaps safer than we ever were. I have so many guards I don’t know if I can even count them now.”

“I wish I was there.”

“I do too,” Angelica sighed. “But we’re fine. I’ll pass along your worries to my stepbrother. He’ll be glad to hear you called.”

“Please let me know if there is anything I can do,” Siobhan urged her. “I want to help. Maybe I can be there for you.”

“I’ll talk with Valantín and let you know.”

They talked a bit more about how Siobhan might be able to help them.

When Angelica ended the call, Siobhan stared at the lush hills covered with well-preserved native forests before her. She was relieved now that she had told Angelica she was willing to help.

Now she just had to convince Angus.