I wake up to a wicked persistent thud, made a thousand times worse by the throb of my hangover. Clearly, I missed out on taking my allotted two liters of sparkling water and extra strength headache medication to avoid this nagging discomfort that's sure to last all damn day.

I wrap my arms around me under the pillowy warmth of my covers, hoping to steal another hour or two of rest, but the ruckus won't let up.

Then my fingertips feel these remnants of my party skirt plus the lack of panties at my hips.

And it all comes flooding back.

My private party.

Helena's admission of her hot forbidden romance.

Coming to my chambers.

Wes.

The mere thought of his name sends a ripple of sensation from the tops of my thighs to a spot deep in my core, so deep and hidden that I've never felt it before. My stomach flutters through what feels like an abdominal crunch, one that I didn't initiate of my own free will. It's so overpowering that my back does a little arching on its own. The entire movement only lasts a split second, but its aftereffects stretch on, finally eased when I scissor my thighs together tightly.

There's a momentary break in the annoying construction noise, and I catch the buzzing of my phone still inside my clutch purse at the foot of the bed. Checking the phone, without unlocking the screen, I see over eight messages from Helena, and a string of other emails and kingdom-related news alerts that have been programmed on my phone.

As I start to read Helena's texts, a call comes in from her.

"What the hell's the emergency, sis?" I answer. "Seriously. Eight messages? Did your lover boy get caught sneaking out of your chambers or something?"

There's a pause on the other end of the call. Helena's holding back? She never holds back. Not from me. Though I shouldn't consider it a hard and fast rule considering she didn't let me in on her well-guarded secret love affair with a guard.

"I want you to be the first to know. Can I come over?"

"This sounds serious. Yes, come on by. I'm still in bed, wearing my party digs, and the renovation uproar is awfully annoying with my hangover, but yes. I'll be here. "

"Be there in five," she answers.

As promised Helena breezes in through my door just minutes after we hang up.

"Are you sitting down?" she asks in a hushed tone. She pushes the door closed behind her and tests it to make sure it's locked.

"I am now," I answer, sure she can read the puzzled look on my face as I push off the mattress and sit up. "Will you please tell me what's going on?"

"Fine. I think someone saw us together last night."

"Why, did anything pop up in the media?"

"Not yet. But I got a call."

"From who? What did they say?"

"I don't know who these people are. No one's supposed to have our numbers... they told me about my relationship with Daniel." She climbs into bed beside me and locks her arm under mine at our elbows. "They're threatening to expose us ... everything. Pictures, dates, places, us in compromising situations… And oh my God, they said they have pictures of Daniel and me in bed together… making love."

"Goodness. I can’t believe this,” I say, rubbing my temples to control the rising stress headache that layers on top of my hangover. They might be targeting my sister, but they might as well be aiming at me. Helena is my best friend too, not just my sister. She’s an extension of myself, and anyone who wants to harm her is my enemy too. “What do they want?"

"Nothing, except to destroy me... his exact words were, ‘we will show everyone in the entire country that the future rulers of this land are not deserving of a place at the helm. You will pay for your part in the decay of the rulership. You will die by rendition at the hands of the four.’ Then he called back. I shouldn’t say he, per se. It could’ve been anyone. The voice was masked. It kind of sounded like one of those electronic things that serial killers and terrorists in the movies wear over their faces to anonymize their voices. But getting back to the point, another private call came in, and I didn’t answer it. He left the identical message in my voicemail."

"God, that’s truly horrible,” I say, wide awake now. Her news is sobering me right up.

“Do you want to hear it?” she asks and pulls her phone out, but I push it away.

“No, I’m a scaredy cat. I’d get nightmares from his creepy electronic voice alone, let alone his threat. I’m so sorry, sister. You must be so terrified right now. I know I am… Except… Don't you think that's strange?”

“Strange? Yes, it’s strange and horrifying that they’d reach out—”

“No,” I stop her mid-sentence. "Think about it. If they don't want money, a position, or something we can offer, something at all, why haven't they just given all the information over to the media?"

She sighs out a despondent moan. "I don't know. But I have to tell mother and father... about everything... oh my God, they're going to kill me when they learn about Daniel."

"They won't love the news, but surely they won't not support you. Think about their own story. Sure, they were both of royal families, but Mother was not of the same station. And they know firsthand how hard they fought our grandparents to be together. Telling them now is the only way, sister," I say, squeezing her hand to help reassure her. "They can bring in the right advisors, possibly have the crown security or IT departments trace the call, or arrange to be ready if the person calls again... we're at the point where we have options. That means there's hope."

Her phone starts to ring, and as soon as she looks at the screen, all the color leaves her face. "Let's hope you're right. Father will see me now."

"I can come with you," I offer. "For emotional support."

"I would normally jump at the chance to have you with me as a buffer, but I think I need to face the music alone. Well, not alone. I’m taking Daniel with me.”

Setting down my phone, I lean back on the headboard and pull the covers up again, wincing from the nagging throb of pain that lances along my temples. "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

"I'll be okay, I think. Plus... don't take this the wrong way, but you look awful, darling. Shall I have Tasha summoned to help you get dressed?"

"Maybe in a few hours," I groan.

"Get some rest," she adds with a smile. But I know she's more nervous than she's letting on. “You might need it… if they make me abdicate the throne to you.”

“That cannot happen,” I insist. There’s no way I’ll stand by and let my parents force Helena to relinquish her monarchical authority. Helena was born to lead. It’s in her blood, in her soul, in her very being. “Cannot. And will not! If they dare force you to give up the crown and step away from being the next queen, everyone will object. The citizens adore you. They won’t accept it.”

“Maybe they will, if Father and Mother work with their advisors to select someone else to rule. Cousin Archie or Thomas, perhaps. They have coveted the throne for the last decade, anyway. Maybe they should have it.”

“Then we’re done for. With those pompous cousins of ours at the throne, Gideanor will go up in flames.”

“But sister, you’re next in line after me at the moment, as I have no children…yet. Well, wish me luck!"

I raise a weak thumbs-up out from under the covers.

"Luck," I mutter, then the last part of what she said sinks in. No children yet. “Hold on, Helena?” I shout. I sit up again, but the sound of her retreating footsteps clicks against the hallway floor and diminish to nothing. “Helena, you’d better not be holding out on me, dammit,” I groan, and sink back into the sheets.