Blackmailing His Bride (Court of Paravel)

When I finally fall asleep, I descend into the usual dream, the one that has me waking in a cold sweat at what feels like every five minutes with the sensation of a rope tightly wound around my throat, gasping for breath. I rub my aching chest. It’s phantom pain. That wound’s long healed, but it always bothers me in the night.

I groan when my alarm goes off at seven and I drag myself to the shower. I have a security meeting with Levanter and the King at eight, and they’ll want to hear everything that happened at the warehouse.

I dress in a suit and drive to the administrative offices at the palace. Archduchess Levanter is already in her office when I head past her door on the way to my office. Levanter’s wife calls a cheery good morning to me, but I’ve already slammed my office door behind me. I have a sick feeling in my gut about this morning’s meeting.

I gather up the pages of last night’s reports and walk through the long, elegant corridors to the King’s meeting room. Levanter’s already inside, standing by his chair. I bow to the King, and when he sits behind his desk, Levanter and I sit down, too.

“How was the raid last night?” Levanter asks right away.

Before the revolution, just making it to morning alive was an achievement and I never had to report to anyone. Fuck, I almost miss it. “Not well, Your Grace. We flushed a meeting of the insurgents, but they all got away.”

The Archduke’s hands clench around the arms of his chair. “All of them?”

I hand my report to the King, who goes through the pages, reading carefully. “You didn’t discover why they’re meeting?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“And you didn’t discover where any of them are hiding?” Levanter asks.

“No, Your Grace.”

“None of them?”

I hesitate. I left Lady Sachelle out of the report until I’m sure just how much she knows about the people she’s mixed up with. Briar Balzac didn’t seem to know they were dangerous. I questioned her myself for hours. “No. No one. I’m sorry.”

King Anson shakes his head and hands back the report. “No need to apologize. These things happen.”

They’re not supposed to happen to me, and not when the person who’s being threatened is my King.

After the meeting, Levanter and I stand outside the King’s office. “If you ever need any help on these raids, my men are well trained,” he says. “It takes experience, working as a unit and not on your own.”

You’d think the man who couldn’t prevent the darkest moment in the history of Paravel would have more humility. “Thank you, Your Grace,” I say through clenched teeth.

I spend the rest of the day going through security reports, hoping to find anything that might clue me in on what pro-Varga people might be up to, and how serious they are. Are we going to have more placards waving in the streets, or will there be an assassination attempt soon?

That evening, the First Families arrive at the palace in their finery under the glittering lights of the ballroom. A dark-haired beauty in a violet dress, the same shade as her eyes, comes through the doors. Her chin is lifted, showing off her swanlike throat. On her elbow is a dark bruise. The sort you might get from crashing into a metal staircase. I lean against the wall, hands deep in my pockets, watching her.

I was four years old when the People’s Republic took Paravel in a stranglehold, murdering King Gregor and Queen Penelope. They locked Prince Anson up far from the capital. Maybe these weren’t the bedtime stories my father should have been telling me, but they’re the ones I heard. I lay awake at night picturing a boy my age locked up in the dark and the cold. I thought of him every time I saw Varga’s hateful red flags lining the streets, and my anger against the People’s Republic burned brighter and brighter. I wondered if Prince Anson believed that everyone had forgotten about him. I was haunted by that idea, so one day when I was twelve, I ran away from home and went to find him.

Prince Anson and his friend Remus were imprisoned in a derelict old house far from the capital of Ivera. I hitchhiked, I walked, I even stole a bicycle, which I was sorry about even though I left some money to pay for it. I was stopped by soldiers numerous times, but I always kept some bread and boxes of pills in my bag so I could claim I was going to see my sick grandmother, and they waved me on. I didn’t know where exactly this house was, but I knew I must be getting close when the number of soldiers increased and they became more suspicious of me. I was beaten up by three soldiers for telling obvious lies, and I only just managed to get away from them with a black eye and a bloody nose.