The Pledge (The Pledge 1)

This was the girl she’d been searching for. This was the heir she’d hoped to discover.

She would have to tread carefully to ensure the girl’s cooperation, and to be certain she made no mistakes. If she played things right, this girl could buy her another lifetime as ruler. A new beginning.

If she was wrong, if what she’d discovered about the girl was untrue, then it was over. All of it.

Alexander materialized then from the vehicle and she stiffened, her heart momentarily stuttering as she was transported back in time to the days when he had her favor, the only boy child who ever had. He was the firstborn of her son’s offspring, a misc

hievous child with an eye toward righteousness, even then. He’d always been immune to her impervious facade and icy stares. When he’d smiled and climbed onto her lap, something no other child had ever dared, her frosty heart had warmed. She’d offered him sweet treats and gifts. She had allowed him unparalleled access to her inner sanctum, and he was schooled and housed within the walls of her wing of the palace. She’d kept him close.

She’d loved him.

And he’d turned his back on her.

And now here he was, an enemy to her throne, standing at the girl’s side. The sight of her once beloved grandson made her heart freeze in place.

She was suddenly eager to see his expression when she shared the surprise she had in store for him.

And then there was Maxmillian—just another of her grandsons, no more unique than the rest. He, too, stood beside this new royal heir. But he wasn’t the reason her resolve slipped. It was his loyal protectors, flanking the girl, who concerned her. Their devotion would always be to Max, the child they were born to protect, and if his allegiance had already been decided, if he’d been swayed by a pretty face, then so had theirs.

And the royal guards were not a force to overlook.

Fortunately, the queen had her own agenda. A plan already set into motion that would rock them all.

XXI

My ears were still ringing with the echoes of Max’s shouts as he was dragged away by Her Majesty’s guards. None of us had anticipated that we’d be separated upon our arrival. And while not one of the armed guards who’d surrounded us had dared to touch either Claude or Zafir, it was clear that they, too, were included in the forced detention that had taken place . . . they were simply allowed to go quietly.

I wondered how many bones would have been broken had it gone down differently.

It had taken me far too long to adjust to our changed circumstances. I hadn’t expected Queen Sabara to hold us captive in this way.

It was supposed to be a meeting, I argued silently in my head. All I wanted was my opportunity to reason with the queen.

But what surprised me most of all was that Zafir had refused to go with Max Ko g.

h="1e, the prince he had vowed his life to protect, and instead had insisted on remaining with me. I didn’t understand clearly, and he refused to explain his reasons to me, but no one questioned the giant when he grabbed hold of my arm, refusing to leave my side. Apparently I had Zafir’s protection, whether I’d asked for it or not. I paced to the window, wearing a path in the thick rug beneath my feet. “How much longer does she plan to keep us in here like this?”

Zafir didn’t respond. He’d stopped answering my questions when I’d begun repeating the same ones again and again.

I stared out onto the grounds that we’d passed on our way to the palace. The same ones I’d at first thought were idyllic now felt isolating. One more barrier between us and the city we’d left behind.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced them back. Had there really been a meeting planned at all, or was this whole thing just a trap? And, if so, who had she meant to capture? Me or Xander?

I felt guilty for agreeing to let Xander come at all. He had responsibilities to those who supported and counted on him. I had no business allowing him to escort me to the palace. I should have forbidden it.

I ran my hand along the sill of the window, marveling at the artistry that had been put into even the most insignificant details of the room. The carvings appeared handcrafted and expertly done. In the hours we’d been held here so far, I’d memorized nearly every opulent detail of the bedchamber in which I was being held.

It was the most luxuriously furnished room I’d ever laid eyes on, or even imagined. Every fabric, right down to the linens on the bed, was finely woven and hand-stitched. Every piece of furniture was meticulously constructed. Every metal was of the purest form, expensive and polished to a blinding shine.

It was a well-appointed prison.

“Do you think Max is nearby?” I turned to face Zafir, unable to ask about my parents just yet, worried my voice would break under the strain.

Zafir stood in the exact spot he had since we’d arrived, just inside the door, never moving, barely blinking. His gaze fell on me, and I wondered if he felt pity for me when, at last, he answered, “His chambers are on the next floor. I’m sure that’s where he’s been taken.”

“He has his own room?”

“He’s a prince. This is his home.”

I took a step backward, grasping the back of a tall chair. Home. How had that thought never occurred to me? I felt as if the wind had just been knocked out of me. This didn’t feel like anyone’s home.

“What about his parents?” I asked, knowing I was prying but unable to stop myself.

Zafir didn’t seem to mind revealing Max’s history. “His father—the queen’s son—died in a hunting accident shortly after Max’s birth. When the queen realized that Max’s mother could no longer bear royal heirs, that a princess was no longer a possibility, she was paid off and sent away. She hasn’t been heard from since.”