The Pledge (The Pledge 1)

Max kept his back to his guards, not caring that they were angry with him. He didn’t have time to concern himself over their feelings. He’d always been loyal to his country and his crown, but he couldn’t stop thinking of Charlie . . .

. . . and what his grandmother—his queen—would do should she find her first.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he answered flatly. And then, because he knew he wasn’t being fair, he turned on his heel, his eyes narrowing. “Besides, when did you become such a child? You were never in any danger. I didn’t lie. I don’t know where she is.”

“But you know as well as I do that she’s acquainted with Xander; we all saw them together at the club. And

whether she’s a part of the resistance or not, keeping company with their leader is dangerous business. The queen would want to know as much.”

“No!” Max snapped. & Jm" qit. DW#8220;It’s irrelevant. She’s no more involved with the resistance than I am.” He turned his back again, ending the conversation.

Claude was right, of course. He’d wondered about that night, about seeing Charlie with Xander. But he knew something that even Claude didn’t.

His thumb slid over the smooth gold chain hidden within his pocket.

A truth he couldn’t risk his grandmother discovering.

“We need to get out of here.” Max strode toward the door once more, knowing full well that Claude and Zafir would follow. “We need to find her before the queen does.”

He needed to keep Charlie safe.

He’d made a pledge.

XIV

There was nothing more I could do but wait on word of my parents. And the waiting was excruciating. Up until now, protecting Angelina had been my most immediate concern, and for the moment, she was out of harm’s way. Xander had made certain of that.

I squeezed in close to her on the pallet we were sharing as I pressed my chin against the top of her head. It was the same way we’d slept so many times before. Sydney was restless in her own bed, and I did my best to ignore the thrashing sounds that came from her side of the room. She was accustomed to more luxurious accommodations: soft mattresses, finely woven linens, heat.

Harder to ignore were the noises that came from beyond our chamber. There was no door, just an opening carved through the very earth itself. Only a blanket pegged into the chiseled wall separated us from the activity outside. There seemed to be no differentiation between day and night down here, no curfew to abide by.

It was cooler below the city, and Angelina shivered. I pulled the musty wool throw over her shoulder, tightening my embrace around her.

Unlike Angelina and Sydney, there was no hope that I’d sleep, not without news of my parents. Not until Brooklynn returned.

Brooklynn. Odd how the name seemed to no longer fit the girl.

Brooklynn—my Brooklynn—was carefree and self-centered.

This Brooklynn, the one I’d met today, was someone else entirely. She was a soldier.

How had I not known that this other Brook existed? How long had she been here? And which one was the true Brooklynn?

Laughter trilled loudly somewhere beyond our walls. A sound that joyous seemed oddly out of place within the chilly underground caverns of a city under siege. In a country at war with itself.

But these people, these Outcasts who spoke only one shared language, seemed happier than those of us who lived above ground. Those of us who were segregated by words and ruled by fear.

I closed my eyes, and not for the first time I pictured Max, and I wished—once more—that he would cease to occupy my thoughts. I had no business worrying over his deceptions while I awaited information about my parents.

Yet he was he KYet H

A prince. Born to a life of nobility, yet trying to pass him

self off as something . . . less. No wonder his family objected to his post in the military. No wonder he was shadowed, wherever he went, by Claude and Zafir. They weren’t his comrades or his friends. They were his guards, sworn to defend him with their lives. Every Royal had them, even a merchant girl knew as much.

So why me? Why the interest in a common vendor’s daughter?

He’d said I intrigued him.

Intrigue wasn’t cause for impractical entanglements, not of the romantic kind. Intrigue was too close to curiosity, to oddity.

Yet still, the skin of my lips burned.

I brushed them against the top of Angelina’s head, hoping to erase his touch.

It was unfair. He could have chosen any girl, anyone other than me, and she would have gladly fallen under his charms, even knowing that it could only be a temporary pairing.

But I had been the one who’d intrigued him.

XANDER

Xander paced the dark, untraveled corridors where he could be alone with his thoughts.

He worried that he’d revealed too much to Charlie about who he was, about who they all were. If only it could end there.

Soon he would have to tell her the rest, and he worried about losing her trust.

She would resist, he was almost certain of it. How could she not? She was reasonable, and no reasonable person would simply accept what he knew.

“X, the team’s back.” His thoughts were interrupted by Eden, and when he turned to face her, he saw that she was joined by the dark-haired beauty he’d put in charge of the mission.

Brooklynn had been a valuable asset to the resistance; she’d been a competent spy, understanding that her looks gave her the unique talent of loosening a man’s tongue. Members of the military were not immune to a beautiful girl’s attention. And most people underrated her intellect.