Brook tugged my hand, drawing me away from the others, doing her best to afford us some privacy as we navigated the chiseled corridors, moving farther underground.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered, keeping her voice low and glancing around to make certain no one could hear us. “I never meant for anyone to get hurt. Especially not Aron.” Her dark eyes were sad, filled with regret.
“I know,” I assured her, seeing her differently now. She was no longer the carefree girl I’d known in my childhood, nor was she the hardened revolutionary I’d imagined she’d become. Instead she was passionate, devoted, dedicated. And, still, my friend. “But you do realize that people are going to get hurt if there’s a war, don’t you?”
“We don’t want that, Charlie. We don’t want to fight, but we can’t just go on like this. We deserve to choose what we want to be, who we want to be.”
I didn’t disagree with her reasons, but I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t try. “What about me? How long have you suspected—?” I faltered; the right words were difficult to find. “How long did you know who I was?”
“We only just figured it out. Your father did an excellent job of keeping his identity hidden. In fact, your parents weren’t the only ones being watched . . . there are other families who’ve been suspected. But then the night the Academy girl—”
“Sydney,” I corrected her.
Brook shrugged, as if knowing her name was somehow distasteful. “The night Sydney came into the restaurant and you spilled water on her, I overheard your parents arguing in the kitchen. Your father was worried that someone might discover the truth if you weren’t careful. He was afraid the queen would learn you existed. I was pretty sure then. After that it was just a matter of getting you close enough to Xander so he could decide if you fit the description.”
“The club?” I asked, understanding dawning.
Brook nodded, the trace of a glint in her eye. “But we left too early that first night. Xander wasn’t there yet.” No wonder she’d been so mad at me when I dragged her out of the club that night, insisting it was time to leave. “You made it easy, though, when you asked if we could go back.” She nudged me playfully with her shoulder, as if we were talking about boys, or school, or anything other than what we were really discussing. “But even then I had no idea what your gift was, what power it was that you were hiding.” She smiled at me then, a wickedly familiar grin. “I wish you would have told me, Charlie. Think of all the cool things we could have done with that little trick!”
“You’re crazy!” I nudged her back, smothering a laugh. This didn’t feel like the right time for laughter, not while my parents were still out there.
“And the night at the park? Did you know what was going to happen?”
Brook’s head dropped shamefully. “I knew something was up. I was told that I needed to keep an eye on you. I figured the best way to do that was for us to go out.” She glanced sideways at me. “I didn’t mean to lose you in the park. When the sirens went off, I looked everywhere. Eventually, I figured you must have taken off with . . . him.”
She didn’t say Max’s name, reminding me that she was still bitter, and I wondered if it was ever jealousy after all, or if she’d known all along who he was. I thought of that night at Prey, when she’d flirted shamelessly with Claude and Zafir, and I wondered if it had all been just an act. A calculated way to gain their trust, to try to gather information. I suddenly wondered at Brooklynn’s choice in men, always leaning toward those in the military.
I didn’t bother asking her.
“We’re so close,” she explained. “To everything we’ve always wanted, to everything we’ve worked for.” Her eyes shimmered as she looked at me. “And you can give it to us, Charlie. You can change everything.”
I shook my head, my eyes filling with tears that I couldn’t explain . . . even to myself.
Brooklynn was wrong. I could accept that my father came from a royal bloodline, or at least I could no longer deny it. I’d seen the proof with my own eyes. I could even accept that that was the reason I could comprehend the other languages, that interpretation was my ability as a royal daughter.
But I wasn’t born to rule . . . I could never be a queen.
“Yes, Charlie,” Brook offered before I could voice my denial. She seized my hands, clasping them tightly in hers as she pressed them to her lips. “You must.”
I closed my eyes, hating that I would let her down, and not wanting to have this discussion right now. Not when I finally felt like I had her back.
Once we were back in the underground city, Xander took charge of the situation. “Brook, you take Angelina back to her chamber, so we can talk to Charlie alone.”
“But shouldn’t I be here—”
A fierce look flashed across Xander’s face, warning Brook not to argue; she’d been given an order.
“Leave her with Sydney,” I offered. “And then you can come back.”
Xander and Eden exchanged a meaningful glance. It occurred to me that Eden wore her moods the way others wore their garments; they hovered about her, invading the space wherever she went. At the moment, I could feel a heavy veil of reticence.
“Brooklynn, go,” Xander insisted, and he waited until she and Angelina were out of earshot before turning back to me. “Sydney’s not here, Charlie.”
“What do you mean, she’s not here? Where is she?”
“She was feeling better, so we sent an escort to take her home,” Xander explained.
“Aren’t you worried that she’ll tell someone about you? That she’ll turn you in?”
Xander just smiled, a patronizing smirk. “She won’t. She cares about you, Charlie. She’s grateful for what you did to help her. Besides, even if she did try to bring someone down here, she’d only get lost.”
I remembered the convoluted pathways we’d traveled, one passageway connecting to the next, twisting and turning. And then I thought about what Brooklynn had said, about how long they’d been down here—over a decade—completely unnoticed.
Yet it seemed a huge risk to take.
“We couldn’t keep her here forever, Charlie. She needed to go home to her family.” Xander’s voice was more reasonable now, less boastful.
And then I heard Max’s quiet voice behind me, his breath tickling the back of my neck. “I think maybe you liked having her follow you around like a puppy,” he teased, and I grinned at the absurd suggestion, elbowing him as inconspicuously as I could.
Unfortunately, there was nothing inconspicuous about the gesture. Everyone saw that single, simple action.
And all hell broke loose.
Within the span of a heartbeat, the two enormous Royal guards lunged toward me with deadly intent etched in their expressions. Before I could think or react—or even blink—Xander’s men had raised their weapons, and were aiming them directly at Claude and Zafir.
Xander came crashing into my side, wrapping himself around me to soften the blow as we hit the ground. Every ounce of breath burst from my lungs when we landed. And at the same time, from between Xander’s arms, I could see Max launch himself between me and his determined sentries.
“No!” he shouted, raising both of his hands, his voice hard, angry. “Stop! All of you!”
I gasped against Xander’s grip, struggling for breath, my head reeling. Xander’s arms loosened, but not by much.
“I mean it,” Max snarled, and I caught a glimpse of him turning in a circle to glare at the soldiers around him. Yet only Claude and Zafir obeyed their prince’s command, each halting where they stood.
No one else complied, and weapons remained readied.
“Are you all right?” Xander whispered against the top of my head.
Somehow I was able to nod, and when I did, I heard his voice rumbling from deep within his chest. “Stand down, soldiers.” I couldn’t see all of them, but I could hear the simultaneous withdrawal of both bodies and weapons. When Xander finally released me, lifting me to my feet, the look on his face was fierce.
Max reached for me, dragging me away from Xander and drawing me against his side, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist. There wasn’t a single person in that room I would’ve traded places with, including Eden, who had shouldered her rifle as well.
When Xander spoke to his soldiers, his voice was deceptively composed. But there was a fury coiled below the surface as he turned on his own. He was a snake, ready to strike as he moved with dangerous precision around the small space. “You raise your weapons without my order? Do you have any idea the damage you could have done? The danger you put our guest in?” I knew he was talking about me; everyone in the room knew it.
I looked first to Claude, and then to Zafir to judge their reactions to Xander’s rant. I don’t know why it mattered, but I needed to know if they’d been told yet, if they knew who I was.
Zafir appeared bored, his brown eyes glazed over. Claude looked incensed, as if he’d like to personally snap every neck in the room.
I was suddenly self-conscious in their presence, knowing they were still unaware.
“You could have hurt her,” Xander continued, treacherously quiet. “I expect you to protect her with your lives. All of you.” And then he said the words that made my stomach twist. “As if you were protecting your future queen.” He reached Eden and lifted his fingers to her cheek, the ropy muscles of his forearm visibly tense. He ran his hand along the side of her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Do I make myself clear?”
Jumbled emotions surrounded her like a thundercloud: fear, regret, devotion, and something that felt unexpectedly close to passion. A tear slipped from her closed eyes, cutting a path down her face. She nodded, opening her black eyes once more and staring, not at Xander but past him, to where I stood.
“I understand,” she vowed, swearing her fealty to me.
“How is this possible? She’s a simple merchant girl you met in a club.” Claude raised his voice, shouting now in the Royal tongue. He had refused to look at me since Xander’s men had holstered their weapons. Since Xander had dropped the bomb about who I was.
Zafir seemed more open to the idea. “How do you expect your grandmother to react when she finds out?”
The reminder that Queen Sabara—the woman who Xander and his revolutionaries were waging war against—was Max’s grandmother was jarring. It was something I shouldn’t forget, I told myself. I had no idea where Max’s loyalties lay.
“She’ll be thrilled,” Xander interjected. “Why shouldn’t she be? Charlie could be the heir she’s been searching for, the one her own family was unable to provide. And I intend to make certain the old woman never gets her hands on her.”
Zafir tipped his head, as if accepting Xander’s cryptic statements. I, however, remained in the dark.
I glared at them all, unable to keep my opinion silent any longer: “I have no intention of taking the queen’s place.”
Only Claude and Zafir reacted to my interruption, reminding me that they were still unaware of my ability to comprehend the Royal tongue.
“She interprets?” An expectant smile lit Zafir’s stony face.
“She does,” I replied tersely, as if he’d been speaking to me.
He hadn’t been. “What else can she do?”
Max answered. In Englaise. “Nothing that she’s aware of, but time will tell.”
It was the first time I’d considered that possibility, that I might be capable of more than just deciphering the languages of others.
“What of the child? Has she displayed a proficiency yet?” This was Claude, sounding irritated by the discovery. The only difference was that he addressed me directly.
“No.” Max shook his head, and I guessed that he’d taken my silence when we were at my house as a denial.
Xander draped his arm around Eden’s neck. It was a brotherly gesture—like comrades—and I wondered how long they’d been fighting together. “We need to figure out what our next step will be.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “I, for one, think it’s time to let Sabara know we have Charlie.”
“What about my parents? And Aron?” I cried, tired of being spoken about as if I were livestock, cattle for them to do with as they chose. “We need to get them back.”
Xander’s expression turned serious, and his words were callously indifferent. “It may already be too late for them. They can’t be our concern right now,” he explained.
“No, no, no! You don’t get it!” I shook my head, crossing my arms defiantly. “They are your concern.” I glowered at him and at Eden, and then turned to face Max. “Do you think it’s too late? Do you?” I demanded.
Max moved toward me. “I don’t think they’re dead, if that’s what you’re asking.” He frowned, watching me intently, his intense gray eyes boring into me, delving into my psyche and searching for cracks in my spirit as if the weight of this bit of information—or the next—might be too much. “But my grandmother is ruthless, and if she thinks there’s even a chance they might know where you are . . .”
I spun on Xander once more, not wanting Max to finish his sentence, or even to contemplate the words he hadn’t said. “You see? They’re alive,” I rasped, demanding that he pay attention to me. “I need to go there.” Then to Max, I said, “I need you to arrange a meeting with your grandmother.”
“It’s a bad idea, Charlie,” Xander explained to me, and I took it as a good sign that he was no longer shouting at me. “Sabara can’t be trusted.”
“You can’t reason with her,” Claude insisted, repeating the words he’d already stated several times.
“They’re right, Charlie,” Max agreed. “She’s both my queen and my grandmother, and I don’t trust her. She’ll say, and do, almost anything if it means getting her way.” He reached for my hands as if somehow he could convince me through his touch.
I was tired of having this conversation. They were my parents—what was I supposed to do? I withdrew my hands, watching as his fingers slipped through mine. “I have to,” I whispered. “Please, just make it happen.”
Xander tried once more. “What if I refuse to let you go?” But there was no real weight behind his words now.
I bristled at the idea. “What choice do you have, really? You need my cooperation, and unless you help me get my parents . . .” I let the meaning hang between us.
His eyes warmed, even as his brows drew together. “So are you saying we have your cooperation? That you’ll agree to be our queen?”
“I’m saying that you’re guaranteed not to have my cooperation if you don’t help me.”
Xander beamed at me. “Already I see a promising negotiator,” he lauded me, and I recognized the cunning behind his carefully chosen words. He’d missed his true calling, I thought. He should have been a diplomat. “You’ll make an excellent queen.”