Author: J.C. Morrows
Date: 2015-09-29 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Romance; Young Adult; Christian Fiction; Dystopia; Christian; Science Fiction; Suspense; Speculative Fiction; retellings
Description: Her mission was simple — get close to the Prince, and kill him. . . but plans don’t always go the way they’re meant to, and emotion gets in the way. Kayden entered the palace under a lie, one designed to get her close to the Prince. On the outside, she may look like a princess but beneath the mask, a killer lays in wait — for the perfect moment. Dvarius was not ready to take the crown, nor was he ready for a wife . . . but due to his father’s unexpected death and an archaic law — he must find a bride before he is allowed to take the crown. And the one woman he wants — just might be the one who
Publisher: S&G Publishing

A Reluctant Assassin

A
RELUCTANT ASSASSIN

~ ORDER OF THE MOONSTONE ~
PART 1

JC MORROWS

Her mission was simple — get close to the Prince, and kill him. . .

Kayden entered the palace under a lie, one designed to get her close to the Prince. On the outside, she may look like a princess but beneath the mask, a killer lays in wait — for the perfect moment.

Dvarius was not ready to take the crown, nor was he ready for a wife . . . But due to his father’s unexpected death — and an archaic law — he must find a bride before he is allowed to take his rightful place on the throne.

And the one woman he wants — just might be the one who is there to kill him . . .

A Reluctant Assassin
Copyright © 2015 by JC Morrows

This title is also available as a paperback.

S&G Publishing, Knoxville, TN
www.sgpublish.com

ISBN-13: 978-1516307371 (E-Book)
ASIN: B0137ZPN92 (Kindle)

ISBN-13: 978-0692482728 (Trade Paperback)

1. Teen / Religious / Christian / Action & Adventure.
2. Fiction / Science Fiction / Steampunk.
3. Fiction / Romance / Science Fiction.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations in printed reviews.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarities to real persons, locations or events is purely coincidental.

Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible (KJV)

First Edition 2015

For Mom

Endorsements

“JC Morrows has an amazing talent for writing Christian speculative fiction. Engaging and full of suspense, her work keeps me on the edge of my seat . . . from the first paragraph, I found myself unable to put down the story until the very last word.”

~ DJ Mynatt
author of You CAN Write 50,000 Words in 30 Days

"Ms. Morrows creates intrigue, suspense, and romance all within the pages of the novel. I cannot wait until the next one comes out. This book is an excellent read."

~ Toni Shiloh
author of A Life to Live

“The narrative style and voice are reminiscent of older works of fiction and unlike what this reader usually finds in today's YA, but they suit the story, setting, and characters very well.
”

~ Cynthia T. Toney
author of award winning YA novel;
8 Notes to a Nobody

“I ended up devouring it. The Order of the MoonStone series has the potential, if played right, of being a fan favorite.”

~ Nicole L Rivera
author of
Finding Unauthorized Faith in Harry Potter

“A RELUCTANT ASSASSIN, the first book in the Order of the MoonStone series, is a must-read.”

~ A Backwards Story Book Reviews

“In A Perilous Assignment, JC Morrows builds suspense and an ominous setting that will leave you eager to read more of her Moonstone series.”

~ A. J. Cattapan
Author of the YA novel Angelhood

"A Perilous Assignment is a tension-filled glimpse into the exciting story world of the Order of the MoonStone series."

~ Marissa Shrock
author of the YA novel, The First Principle

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

I know we don't all love history, but sometimes it can be helpful . . . and intriguing.

In the following story, Auralius exists in place of what we currently know as the United States of America.

Don't worry . . . I'm not going to go into a lot of detail yet. It would ruin the story to reveal everything here, so I will simply say the following...

The people of Auralius are even more of a mixture than the U.S.A. that we know today. Any strange spellings or odd phrases in the following story are the product of that mixture and the influences of a reinstated monarchy.

Enjoy!

~ JC

She struggled to focus on the warm brown of his eyes as he looked down at her in alarm.

But darkness closed in stealing the moment from her.

Her fingers would not obey as she attempted to reach out to him; no longer able to feel her limbs as the blood drained from her body . . . taking with it any hope of reconciliation.

All the fantasies she had only just begun to weave, shattered and blew away like ashes — and there was time for only one thought. . .

Well, this wasn't part of my plan.

Kayden tilted her head slightly, looking at the painting in front of her — a depiction of their last great battle; airships resplendent, guns blazing as they flew to meet the enemy.

She almost expected the tiny puffs of smoke to drift off the canvas and float away right before her eyes.

And it was obvious why this painting was hung here — in this room.

Of course the royal family would keep this here, where only they can see and appreciate it.

They certainly would never consider putting it in the city museum, where it could be appreciated by the common folk . . .

With the almost constant state of upheaval in Auralius over the past fifty years, it was no wonder most of the people detested the Fortine family.

Looking around the Great Hall, at the overwhelming luxury, she couldn't help but wonder . . .

Have they ever even seen the city — especially the worst parts of it; the dark alleys, the filthy ditches, the pitiful shelters?

Shaking her head to clear the images, she looked around again.

She'd been shown pictures of this room during her preparation, but nothing could have prepared her for the opulence. It was certainly not something she would become accustomed to anytime soon . . . especially considering how much time she had spent in those ditches and back alleys.

The walls of the palace were draped in silk the color of champagne, the marble floor inlaid with gold accent pieces, the windows sparkled as only crystal could — and that was just this one room.

And the people in the room were even more grandiose . . . if that was possible.

The women wore expensive jewels and high-class cosmetics. The men sported ridiculously high top hats and diamond-studded walking sticks.

Even though she stood among them, attired in the same luxury, weighed down by heavy jewels and buried in thick make-up, Kayden felt every inch the dirty street urchin she had been for many years. It took every ounce of nerve she had developed to stand her ground.

At least the smile is easy, since everyone is wearing the same insipid half-smile.

She affected a carefully practiced, slightly bored expression, while memorizing every detail around her.

This was one of the first lessons operatives were taught when they entered the Order — since it was impossible to know what information they might need later.

By now her own observation skills were so finely honed, it was simply habit.

She moved slowly toward the row of buffet tables that commanded one end of the enormous room.

Her stomach was too knotted up to accept food, but she could at least have a glass in her hand as she made another circuit.

She resisted the urge to reach up and tug on her hair as she looked around.

No one else has red hair. At least half the girls here have black hair. I could blend in so much better in my usual black.

It was the first thing she had been overruled on for this assignment. She had pointed out that her dark, red locks were a flashing beacon and would draw far too much attention to her.

Of course, Drey had insisted — not only would maintaining the dark black rinse she used for covert missions be too much trouble — but the natural red of her hair might be enough to draw attention from the Prince.

So here she stood, holding a ridiculous goblet filled with liquid that nearly matched the bold color of her hair, trying desperately to remain inconspicuous.

She had learned the hard way that there was a fine line between being unnoticed and being unobtrusive. While there were but a few guards in the room at this time, there would soon be many more.

She and the other guests might be in the heart of the royal palace, but the head of security would never allow the Crown Prince to walk into a room filled with this many people — not without at least a dozen guards.

If he were a bit less cautious, I wouldn't even need to be here.

She had the sudden urge to laugh, but recognized it as nerves and quickly suppressed it.

Slowly moving around the room, working to keep up the uninterested, slightly haughty expression she was not yet accustomed to, she went back to examining the artwork.

It took perusing several paintings before she realized what she was looking at. And she nearly moved back to the corner to start from the beginning, but knew it might call attention to herself, so she stayed where she was.

From a distance, it was difficult to pick out small details, but she could easily see the first painting was a depiction of the old democracy.

How far we've come . . . have we learned nothing?

A selection of images from the Second Civil War followed the image of the old democracy.

A shudder — cold as ice — trickled down her spine as the reality of the images before her, took hold of her.

How did we manage to survive such insanity?

She shook her head and moved on.

Beyond the Second Civil War images, there was a single portrait of a beautiful landscape. It brought to mind wondrous fairy tales she vaguely remembered from her childhood. She stood looking at it for nearly a minute before moving onto the next one.

When she did, the warmth she had momentarily felt was replaced by another chill — this one reaching her very core.

World War IV had brought with it nothing but decimation. No country or culture had remained unscathed, and the image before her showed it in chilling detail.

She was surprised to realize there were tears on her lashes. Blinking rapidly, she stepped hastily to the next group of paintings.

At least society still benefits somewhat from the industrial revolution that followed. Thankfully, we found ways to exist without fossil fuels and nuclear energy before more lives were lost.

Unfortunately, the demise that had rocked the entire world had also caused upheaval in nearly every governmental system as well.

Their country had not been spared the grasping pretenders, despots or dictators. They had spent the next two hundred years playing tug-of-war with their country, as well as the other countries involved in World War IV.

Only by turning again to a monarchy had Auralius been able to overcome the warlords who had preyed on the innocent and weak — and managed to survive.

Although I'm not sure we didn't simply trade one dictator for another, especially if Drey is right.

She looked up, realizing she had come full-circle, to stand in front of the painting she'd been pretending to observe only a few minutes before.

A new appreciation for the scene in front of her filled her with unexpected awe. Here was proof of how resilient their people were as a nation.

Some of us anyway . . .

Turning slowly, she looked around the room again at the other guests; twenty-four young women and their families, waiting not-so-patiently for the young prince to arrive.

She already had a good idea of who they were and where they had come from, but observing them in this environment gave her a whole new outlook on each lady.

Each one of them had something she did not; money, prestige, power, popularity, even fame — but not one young woman here had seen what she had. Not one of them had stood against the odds that had been stacked against her since her parents' death.

Not one other person in this room had been forced to fight for their very survival. It made perfect sense to her that they would look right past this wall . . . never seeing the significance that was represented behind her.

She might be at a slight disadvantage in some ways, but she was clearly superior to every other person in this room when it came to a few specific skills.

And I might be made up to look like a Princess, but underneath these stupid petticoats and jewels . . .

I. Am. A. Fighter.

She was ready to do whatever she had to do, ready to take on anyone who stood in her way . . . or anyone who tried to deter her from her mission.

Drey himself had chosen her from a selection of over a hundred young women — operatives with more experience, more beauty and more womanly wiles.

He must have seen something special in me; something that would catch the eye of the Prince . . . and I vow that I will not let him down.

She took a deep breath as everyone in the room turned toward the large doors at the other end of the Great Hall.

He's coming.

I have to calm down.

Kayden took a deep breath . . . and then another. She would need all of her wits about her right now.

Dvarius stopped just inside the door and took a moment to appreciate his final moments of life without the responsibility of the crown.

Once he stepped into the room — once he took this step — his life would change forever.

A recent conversation with his advisors flooded his mind. Thinking about it, he was certain that, while any other man might be delighted at the thought of what he was preparing to do, he . . . was not.

“This is necessary, Your Highness. The country is in trouble. There is much going on out there that you are unaware of.”

Dropping a folder on the desk between them, Petero continued.

“You must do something that will show the people you are serious about your responsibility and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to secure their safety.”

He'd let out a short bark of laughter before continuing, “This should at least distract them from their troubles for a time.”

“And you truly believe this is the best idea; bringing twenty-five young women into the palace — women whom I've never met — and expect me to just . . . choose a bride?”

He hadn't needed to wait for a response.

Before he asked the question, he'd known the answer . . . even though he did not yet have the crown, he was still expected to behave as if he did.

He was required to make decisions as the King would, but he was not certain he was ready for it. He hadn't told anyone . . . but he was terrified.

The low hum of voices brought his attention back to the room — and the young ladies — that awaited him.

Everywhere he looked, opulent gold and glittering jewels winked back at him. He was surrounded by beautiful women and their families . . .

So why do I feel as though I am the one up for sale?

What was it about this whole experience that gave him the worst possible feeling?

“What are you waiting for?”

The words were accompanied by a light punch on the arm, which brought a reluctant smile to Dvarius' face.

He turned to his long-time friend and confidant. Marek's attitude was expected. He didn't take anything seriously.

“Want to take my place?”

Dvarius thought fondly of the games they had played as children; he being the young nobleman with no responsibilities and Marek taking the mantle of prince. It had been fun — trading places. But it had only been a child's game. This . . . this was for real.

“Just say the word, Var.”

Marek laughed again as he slapped the Prince on the shoulder.

“Seriously man, what are you waiting for? Get in there — or I will.”

Dvarius tried to allow his friend's enthusiasm to wash over him, hoping he could find an ounce of something other than dread to fill himself with.

If only he could take the crown as a single man. It would make everything so much easier. He could take his time . . . find a wife in a more traditional way, like his father had.

But he could not change the law until he was King . . . and his mother was certainly in no shape to take on the House of Lords or the Senate right now, so he was left with this ridiculous charade.

His advisors had insisted for months that this was the best way to handle the situation. He must show a strong presence.

Being so much younger than his father had been when he'd taken the crown, Dvarius must show the people — but more than that, their enemies — that he was fully in control of the still young, but strong country.

To show weakness in any way would throw the country into turmoil and open them up to the possibility of attack. God knew this country had seen enough war in the last three decades to last several lifetimes.

The thought of war turned his stomach and brought to mind the vivid pictures from his youth; leaving him with the feeling of an icy hand clamped around his heart.

If this was the only way to keep the country from being plunged into another war, he would gladly throw himself on the block.

What was his own life, even his own happiness, compared with an entire country?

He didn't know if he could be as wise a king as his father had been, but he was determined to do whatever he must to ensure that he had a chance to prove himself.

Not only to his mother and his advisors, but to the people as well.

Still . . .

He held onto the idea that he might find love. It was a fanciful notion in the eyes of most, but he knew his father had loved his mother deeply.

So, perhaps it was not as impossible for him as he had been thinking for some time now.

“Hey man, are you okay?”

Marek sounded more serious than Dvarius had heard him in a long time. He must understand more about what was at stake here than he allowed anyone to see.

Dvarius turned to look at his friend, and then turned to look around the room again, as he took a deep breath.

“No, not really . . . but there's nothing to be done for it.”

“I'm right here. You need a break, a diversion, whatever . . . just say the word.”

Marek's hand came down on his back easier this time and his friend's support — more than anything else — gave Dvarius the courage to move.

God, please help me.

Dvarius raised the silent plea and gritted his teeth as he moved past the doorway.

Immediately the frustration that had bound him was replaced by a calm assurance. God had heard his plea.

His advisors had strongly suggested he keep his faith to himself. He could still hear the insistence in their voices, telling him that faith in something that didn't exist would make him look soft.

“Come now, Your Majesty; how will it look for the King to put his faith in something other than himself? You are Auralius. You must not falter and you must not show weakness. This . . . faith . . . believing in something that does not exist.”

It was one area he would never agree with them on. His faith was an integral part of who he was; who his father had raised him to be.

God might not have left evidence that convinced those with the greatest doubts, but Dvarius had certainly been convinced by it. And he knew his faith would make him a better king, even if his advisors did not.

Whenever he felt his own weakness threaten to overwhelm him, he looked to God and his strength was miraculously renewed, as it was now.

Thank you, Lord.

He stood a bit taller as he felt that strength flow through him now.

And the warmth that followed in its wake helped Dvarius to understand that this decision was not his to make — only his to accept.

The woman God intended for him to marry was in this room somewhere. He just had to be still and listen for God's instruction.

With that in mind, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding . . . and looked around the room again.

Immediately, one young woman stood out to him. She was standing alone, by the far wall, turned toward one of the larger paintings that graced the room.

She looked nervous, but the way she held her shoulders bespoke a courage Dvarius found himself immediately envious of.

The muscles in his stomach tightened and a rush of heat washed over him as he studied her.

She stood near the painting of their last great battle — and though she faced the painting, she turned slightly to each side every few seconds, as if she were watching everyone else in the room.

She was dressed much like every other young woman in the room, but the way she held herself reminded him less of a Lady and more of his guards.

Then somehow, though he hadn't noticed a move of her head, her eyes met his from across the room.

The deep pewter of her eyes, surrounded by a pale, delicate face, was framed by a tumble of bold, auburn hair.

The sight of her took his breath away. It was as if her eyes were a dagger that pierced his heart — except he had never felt more alive than he felt in that moment.

He turned and flashed a smile at Marek before striding purposefully across the room, ignoring the receiving line that had formed at his arrival.

Kayden's breath caught in her throat when she realized that the Prince had not only caught her checking the room, but he had actually met her gaze with his own — and now he was walking in her direction.

Her lungs were straining with the breath she held. After a moment, she let go with an exhale that sounded far louder to her ears than it should have been.

She knew she had to focus on her training, but her nerves were churning within her. It was an unfamiliar sensation; one she'd not experienced in years.

Voices flitted through her head, reminding her of the things she had been drilled in since she'd been chosen for this mission.

“Never let him see who you really are.”

“You do belong there. Remember that. Show him that.”

“Always be a lady.”

“We're counting on you.”

“You can do this.”

“Never forget . . .”

The last had come from the only woman she had ever truly considered a friend, whispered as Kayden had walked through the lines of women that had been assembled for Drey's assessment.

Voi had reached out as Kayden walked past her and the woman's hushed voice . . . and whispered words had followed her even as Kayden had moved through a part of the underground complex she hadn't known existed before.

Kayden still wasn't certain what Voi had meant when she'd said the words, but they had stayed with her throughout the intensive training.

Through the fittings and measurements for her new wardrobe; through the endless recitations of information that was being fed to her about the royal family and the other twenty-four girls and their families.

She thought back to those fittings for a moment. She had stood on a raised platform for hours while someone measured her.

Articles of clothing were brought in for her to try. Dresses and accessories were tried — and accepted or rejected in a flurry of activity.

There were certainly times she wished she had known she would be spending so much time in these crazy dresses and all this makeup.

She might have reconsidered.

I might have reconsidered . . .

Ha, who am I kidding? I never had a choice.

Kayden had no inkling of the importance of this assignment when she'd stood in a room, waiting for Drey to make his choice. Nor had she been given any details.

Like everyone else, she was ordered . . . and she had obeyed.

Eventually, little by little, information had been shared with her until she'd been dispatched to the palace.

To keep herself from worrying over the possibility that this would be her last mission, she concentrated on the less significant details, such as how she looked.

She longed for her horse, her bow, and the simpler riding clothes she'd been issued — and then altered — for her own uses; because even the sturdy dress made for riding was not designed for how active she preferred to be.

I will miss that here.

There would be no climbing, no target practice, no swimming, and no hiking deep into the dark mountains.

Oh well, if this works, I'll only be here a short amount of time.

She comforted herself with the words and then shook off those thoughts as the Prince came ever nearer.

She had hoped he was simply walking in her direction, but no, he was walking right toward her.

There was no denying it now.

He ignored every other girl in the room and he's walking right to me.

Maybe this will work after all . . . she thought to herself, trying to suppress the smile that leaped immediately to her lips.

When he was close enough, she swept into the deep curtsy she'd practiced so many times she could have done it in her sleep.

However, before she'd even dropped completely, the Prince took her hand and pulled her back up.

His eyes met hers as he leaned over her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

His lips had barely made contact with her skin when every nerve ending from her fingertips to her elbow began tingling.

The breath stuck in her throat as she tried desperately to remember what she was supposed to say.

“My dear.”

He said the words like an endearment, but the tone was completely lost on her, as flashes of a dark street and the smell of blood and rotting garbage invaded her senses.

A chill erased the tingle that had begun in her arm as it rushed from her heart and sent weakness crashing through her.

Remembered sounds of the city and a dark alley drowned out the music playing quietly in the background of the Great Hall. The memory of such strong, rancid smells turned her stomach — and the panic that had flooded her body in that moment, surged through her limbs.

It took every bit of training to force herself back to this moment.

Truly, she thought she had let go of that memory years ago, but it was all too clear in her mind, and she spoke through gritted teeth . . .

“My. Name. Is. Kayden.”

The Prince looked at her with an odd tilt to his head as he stepped back and released her hand. The sudden loss of contact somehow brought her back to her senses.

She had to get a grip on herself or she would miss this chance.

Taking a quick glance around the room, trying to gauge how close everyone was, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw there was no one near enough to have heard her words, or worse, the tone of them.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but the Prince spoke first.

“My apologies . . . Kayden.”

The Prince inclined his head in her direction, and it was all Kayden could do to keep her mouth from dropping open.

Wait.

I just insulted him and he's giving me the honour of a royal bow.

Nothing — absolutely nothing — she had been taught could have prepared her for this. The smooth apology she had planned to deliver slid away and she did what came much more naturally to her — she stuttered.

“Your Majesty . . . I . . . I . . . I am so very sorry.”

Well, now I've done it.

Shame burned her cheeks as she looked down at the floor.

I'm supposed to be making a good impression on the Prince.

She had been given an amazing opportunity — and she was messing it all up.

Still waiting to be soundly scolded, Kayden was surprised to hear laughter coming from the Prince.

Not the scornful laughter she would have expected at her bumbling apology, but the deep, warm, delighted laughter of a man who was genuinely enjoying himself.

It shocked her.

Even more surprising was the feel of his hand on her chin. At the gentle pressure she lifted her chin, with surprise and embarrassment still at war within her.

When her eyes met his, she was shocked to see such warmth filling the chocolate depths.

Why did it have to be chocolate?

She had seen dozens of pictures of the Prince, but none of them had prepared her for the velvety chocolate color of his eyes. She couldn't seem to look away from them.

When did he get so close to me?

Looking up into his eyes — full of curiosity and interest — she realized something else.

This is not the man I was expecting.

There was no cold in his eyes, no disdain, and no air of superiority. He exuded warmth and a confidence that surprised her.

And there was . . . something else as well; something she could not immediately identify.

She tried to think . . . to analyze . . . to put herself into a detached state of mind, but the feel of his fingers gently resting on her skin was sending some unexpected sensations through her.

Every nerve ending along her chin and throat was on fire; so much more intense than the light tingle she'd felt a few moments before.

She was intensely aware of his touch, and she was certain everyone nearby must be able to hear her speeding heart.

The emotion churning within her in that seemingly endless moment was nearly too much to control.

For a moment — just a moment — she forgot who she was and what she was here to do; her mission, her training, everything was gone.

Her mind emptied . . . and in crept an emotion she had not allowed for many years. She couldn't remember the last time she had experienced it . . . but she felt it now. It exploded in her heart and flooded her soul.

Hope.

It took over her senses and she felt a smile bloom on her lips and spread across her entire face.

The hand on her chin slipped up to cup her cheek and there was something in the Prince's eyes that made her feel excited and wary all at once.

The way he was looking at her now sent shivers down her spine. And, contrarily, there were flickers of fire jumping in her stomach.

She could feel an intense heat spreading along her entire body; every muscle tensed in anticipation, every nerve ending was on fire.

An overwhelming depth of emotion robbed her of speech and thought . . . until her mother's face — inexplicably — floated into her mind, bringing with it a deep longing and heartbreak.

A warm tear slipped down her cheek as her emotions again overwhelmed her. The memory that came to her was one that she had thought was forever lost to her.

She was looking up at her mother's smiling face — a face so incredibly beautiful, it was breath-taking.

Kayden vaguely wondered how she could possibly be related to this woman, who looked more like an angel than someone's mother.

She closed her eyes so that she could savor every moment of the memory she had thought was lost to her forever.

As she did, she turned her head slightly, breaking her contact with the Prince — and the shock was nearly painful.

Reality crashed in on her, smothering anything else and reminding her of who she was and what she was doing here.

Before she could fully regain her balance in the situation, she felt the Prince's fingers brushing away the one tear that had escaped.

“Truly you are a puzzle, miss.”

He said the words softly, with uncertainty, but there was something else in his words as well — something she didn't want to analyze.

She would think about it — and what it might mean — later, but for now she needed to get herself back under control.

“You nearly snap my head off . . .”

Her eyes fluttered open when his breath tickled her cheek.

“Then you apologize, unnecessarily I might add.”

A short laugh accompanied those words.

“And finally . . . you smile so unexpectedly that somehow I feel I've been granted a very precious gift.”

His fingers dropped away and she finally felt as if she could breathe again.

“Now, I see a tear on your cheek and that breathtaking smile has disappeared . . . Yes, a puzzle indeed.”

She risked a look at him. He was smiling . . .

Good. Now I just have to figure out how to answer him.

She was saved from coming up with anything because at that moment, someone walked up and whispered something in the Prince's ear.

The amused look that had been on his face disappeared and was replaced by an expression much more in line with what she had been prepped for. Here was the ice-cold demeanor she'd been told to expect.

An involuntary shiver raced down her spine and it was all she could do to keep still; confused all the more, because she had no idea if she was at last seeing the real Prince Dvarius now, or not.

She took a moment to study the man beside him. This was one of the advisors she had been warned about. She flipped through her mental files until she landed on his.

Ah, yes . . .

Petero.

He had been with Dvarius' father, and his uncle before that.

This man had been a part of the palace staff for a very long time. He would either be an invaluable asset or an immovable impediment.

Time would tell . . .

The Prince turned back to her and inclined his head again, confusing her all over again. The cold was gone, replaced by the warm, friendly, intriguing man she had been speaking to only a few moments ago.

“With apologies, I must take my leave. I trust we will speak again soon.”

He turned to everyone else in the room then, and spoke a bit louder to the rest of them, as Kayden struggled to figure out what had caused the sudden change — first to cold — and then back to warm.

Nothing was immediately apparent, except the appearance of Petero.

“I regret that I am required elsewhere. I do look forward to meeting everyone . . . it simply is not possible at the moment.”

The Prince swept a hand around the room as he spoke.

“You are all welcome to stay, enjoy the remainder of this little welcoming soirée. When you are ready . . .” He nodded his head in the direction of ladies gathered in small groups all around the room, and then back at Kayden for just a moment before going on, “The staff will escort our lovely ladies to their rooms.”

He looked over at one of the servants, who bowed deeply in return.

“I do wish I had time today to meet with each family, but I am certain there will be another opportunity soon.”

And Prince Dvarius swept out of the room, a long line of advisors in his wake.

Later that same evening, Kayden stood at the railing on her personal balcony and looked out over the city she had grown up in.

She marveled at the surreal quality which settled over Auralius' capital city from such a height.

Orum might be nowhere near as perfect and beautiful as it appeared from so far away; the dirty streets and crumbling buildings that had yet to be rebuilt, but it was home.

There were still bridges and roads that were impassable by vehicle or foot traffic alike, yet it appeared in the night sky to be a sleek, clean, dark jewel on the horizon.

She had not wanted to believe after meeting him, that the Prince was the same cold, aloof man she'd been told about. But here was undeniable proof, right in front of her. His palace was filled with jewels and art and silk draperies, and lavish food laid out to impress their guests.

And the clothes . . .

Oh, the clothes . . . I have to be decked out in silk and imported lace to fit in with the kind of women he mingles with.

Kayden gritted her teeth while she squirmed in the too-tight dress. During other missions, she had worn everything from a maid's uniform to coveralls seen on road crew workers.

She'd never before needed to wear such expensive, luxurious ensembles which were necessary to fit in at the palace.

And I will be stuck in them every day . . . all day.

Reaching down to her skirt, she pulled at one of the layers of lace and rubbed it between her fingers for a moment before dropping it again.

How do women live like this all the time — with so many layers and hoops and stockings?

. . . and the high heels? What was I thinking!

She sat down and struggled to reach beneath her full skirts. After several futile seconds, she gave up.

She couldn't even get to her weapon. What was the point of even having it?

Better hidden under my skirt than discovered by one of the maids running around this place.

There were servants everywhere.

Can't the people in this place do anything for themselves?

There is so much pain and death out there . . .

Yet the Prince sits here in his glass and marble palace, living in luxury while his people starve and freeze to death on the streets of Orum . . . and every other city like it in Auralius.

She struggled for a long moment with the anger building inside of her.

She'd spent too much time on those streets, witnessed too many brutal acts against other citizens, and seen too much death — to believe that the Prince was ignorant of what it was truly like out there. It simply was not possible.

He must know. He is “The Prince” after all. How could he not!

Unless, of course, he did not care to know.

Yes, that makes much more sense. He sits up here and looks down on the glittering jewel that is but a reflection of the city below.

Why would he take time to discover what truly goes on in the back alleys and ditches — if he does not have to see it . . .

With no knowledge of the truth, the Prince could pretend everything was perfect. He could act as if Auralius was perfect.

Alfreid's words came back to her.

“Like your own personal fairy tale . . .”

At the time she had sneered at his words.

Now . . . here . . . in this place, she was surrounded by the confinement of the palace; the ostentatious décor, the fancy food, the ridiculous ensembles . . .

Fairy tale indeed . . . biting off the rest of what she had been thinking, she turned to pace, not realizing she had begun to mutter aloud.

“What kind of stupid girl wants this sort of fairy tale? Not this one; that's for sure. Why would Alfreid think I want a fairy tale?”

She let out a huff of frustration.

“What if Cinderella had been sent to kill The Prince?”

Now that's my kind of fairy tale . . .

The sound of her laughter echoed back at her as it bounced off the marble walls.

She had not been able to truly appreciate the difference before arriving here. She'd thought there was something missing from her preparation.

But no. Most everything was just as she had expected it to be.

Bits and pieces from her training flowed through her mind as she stood looking out over the city, thinking about the luxury she was standing in; things Drey had told her in preparation for this assignment.

He had told her of things the royal family changed for the people . . . mostly things they had changed to the detriment of the people.

A picture she had once seen of a woman in pants and a strange-looking top came to mind.

The picture had been in one of the last museums left standing after the fourth World War.

Kayden had wanted to ask someone about the image, but she'd been there on assignment and wasn't supposed to be noticed, so she'd walked away from it with no answers . . . but she had always remembered it.

Could that have been one of the things the royal family had changed? Had there been a time in their history when women wore pants just like men did?

Had the royal family decided to do away with that idea?

Could that explain this ridiculous getup I'm stuck in?

Were they taking away personal freedoms — as well as food — from the people? She picked at the lace on her skirt again.

Not that I would want to wear pants all the time . . . except that it would make riding easier.

However, as much as she disliked the extra layers and trimmings, she knew it would feel strange to wear pants every day; just like a man.

She had some experience with it, as she'd been undercover as a boy several times in the past, and she could remember the strange feeling . . . the discomfort.

Not that I have to worry about it anyway . . . Kayden reminded herself . . . since it has become all too apparent that I'm a girl.

That thought left her feeling angry and raw.

Just because I'm a woman . . .

Realizing how silly her whole, internal debate was, she shook off her thoughts. Immediately, other thoughts — of infinitely more importance — took their place.

What other changes did the royal family make?

Are they really so terrible? Or — are they small and seemingly insignificant, but clearly upsetting to someone like Drey?

And what is it about the changes that makes everyone so upset?

Was it simply being denied personal freedoms or did the issue go deeper than that?

And why don't they spend their time on more important things? It's not as if there is a shortage of problems in Auralius right now.

Oh, this is ridiculous.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. She was here to do a job, plain and simple. She would get the job done and then she would go back to her other life . . . her normal life.

Do I even have a normal life?

Restlessness swept through her and she found herself pacing back and forth from the balcony — to the bed — and back again.

After several minutes, she walked over and sat down at the enormous desk that sat across the room from her bed.

Picking up a pen that had been laying on the satiny smooth surface of the desk, she absently traced the royal crest that was printed on the top of the page, while she tried to figure out exactly what to write.

She knew the sudden departure of the Prince had to be reported, but something was stopping her.

Her reluctance made no sense — especially given what she had learned about the Prince and his life here in the palace.

And yet, something was stopping her . . .

Could she ignore the voice in her head, telling her to stay quiet, or would she ignore her training?

She sat for several minutes thinking it over. Why should she consider ignoring her training over a target — and the confusion that his touch brought her?

She'd never had a problem overriding her training when she had a better way of doing something; which was more or less what she had already done with the Prince anyway, snapping at him instead of fawning.

But that had nothing to do with her sudden reluctance.

Well, perhaps it did . . . a little.

Drey had said that he'd seen something special in her and that was why he'd chosen her.

And she'd been puzzling over it ever since. Certainly he knew of her record with the organization.

He'd chosen her in spite of it.

There must be a reason.

Had he seen some value in her determination to do things her own way when something was not going the way it was supposed to?

After all, she always got the job done . . . one way or another.

Something else was going on here. She was certain of it . . . and until she got to the bottom of it, she was going to follow instructions.

Not that she had much choice . . . she might have gotten the Prince's attention, but she was hardly in a position to carry out her mission . . .

Yet.

So she would wait, and watch until an opportunity presented itself.

With that in mind, she leaned over the paper and carefully began composing the coded message that would be delivered to headquarters.

Under normal circumstances, she would be responsible for getting to the first drop point. However, she was not allowed to leave the palace grounds by herself, so arrangements had been made for a change in the first drop point.

She would have the letter sent to the residence she had temporarily taken command of, and the operatives there would pass it along to the next point.

Secretly, she had railed against the change in her routine.

Even though she enjoyed flouting the rules now and then when it suited her, it felt as if her skills had been called into question.

As if I couldn't possibly sneak past the palace guards if I chose to.

She was tempted to do it — just to prove she could; not to mention the opportunity to get away from this suffocating palace.

To be out in the fresh air . . . to be running along silent streets or climbing the enormous walls that surrounded the Palace.

Ahh, now that is true freedom . . .

Hmm . . . but where would I go?

She thought it over while the ink dried on her finished correspondence.

Dvarius could barely believe the words he was hearing. This . . . this was the reason he had been dragged away from Kayden?

“Your Highness, please consider Lady Celestia.”

Leonal spoke softly, almost as if he was pleading.

Dvarius simply gritted his teeth.

“Sire, you must take this seriously. You simply cannot afford to alienate our most prestigious families. They will be your greatest allies in the years to come.”

This from Petero.

Dvarius bristled at the man's words. As if he was unable to run the country without the support of the wealthiest families in the country.

“Perhaps His Highness did not realize just how strong his faux pas . . .”

Alain, one of the younger advisors, attempted to defend Dvarius, but Petero cut the man off with a sharp look.

Dvarius made a point to look over at Alain as the young man began to look down.

When he saw the Prince was looking at him, he looked up and Dvarius gave him a nod and a smile.

Embarrassment still colored the man's face, but he did not look down again. He nodded and inclined his head to the Prince in a clear sign of gratitude and respect, which gave Dvarius the courage to speak up.

“Enough, Petero. I never wanted this ridiculous charade . . . and I promise you this. If I find the future Queen among these women, it will not be due to your manipulations.”

He looked around the table and was surprised to see the changed expressions on his advisors' faces.

A moment ago, they had been looking at him like a boy. Now a few were actually looking at him as if he was a man, and it fed his courage.

“I will meet all the young women eventually — and I will choose for myself. I may not have the luxury of marrying for love, but I will not shackle myself to someone whom I cannot abide; not even for the sake of political alliances.”

Petero looked as if he wanted to argue. His face was an unbecoming shade of red, but he held his tongue.

Dvarius looked around at the advisors who had been forced upon him.

Every word they had spoken in this room had been intended to remind him of how foolish he'd been this evening.

He should not have ignored the receiving line; this he knew . . . but he was having difficulty finding any regret within himself.

Of course, now he must soothe the ruffled feathers of the other families.

“Your Highness.”

But Dvarius cut Leonal off. He was weary of the tirade.

Not one of them had come right out and said it, but it was clear that for some reason he could not fathom, they were determined he should not choose Kayden.

It made no sense. The very fact that she was here, should have been good enough — for even Petero.

Perhaps it was more to the point that he had ignored everyone else in favor of her. Whatever the reason, he was tired of listening to them.

The more Dvarius heard, the more determined he was that this whole experiment was a mistake . . .

except for the fact that, if not for this . . . this . . . ridiculous charade, he would most likely never have laid eyes on the feisty redhead who had already nearly captured his heart.

Since he had entered the room, he had been bombarded with information about every single young woman, except for the one whom he was most curious about.

Each advisor had presented him with a file stuffed with information about each of the candidates who had been presented to him as a possible wife.

Information that told him nothing. Not one file mentioned religious beliefs, personal convictions or ideals, political opinions, or even such things as hobbies and interests.

“Your Highness, I assure you that manipulation is not my aim. I am merely trying to do my job; which includes being certain you have the correct information so that you may make the best possible decision.”

Petero's words might sound innocuous to the others, but to Dvarius, they were a clear challenge. Either he thought the Prince needed a strong push or he had his own agenda to pursue.

“Sire, we are simply asking that you consider the other ladies,” and there was something in the way Petero said the next words that made Dvarius grit his teeth again, “before you make a decision that cannot be undone.”

Adin gestured to the stacks of folders arranged on the table in front of Dvarius, but it was Petero who spoke again.

“We have assembled detailed reports on each prospect. They will tell you everything you desire to know.”

Dvarius knew there were personal things about each lady in the files, but the pages also pointed to areas where the advisors were certain the “prospects” would prove most valuable — political connections, social position, and monetary value of family holdings — which meant nothing to him.

The Prince vowed that not one of those things would have any part in his decision.

He had decided, when this suggestion had been presented to him, that he would need to take time to get to know each individual, not just the persona that everyone saw.

Looking over the thick stack of files in front of him, he realized how daunting a task he had given himself.

Not one of these women would voluntarily show me her true self — well, not until she has a crown on her head.

The moment the thought occurred to him, he knew he was wrong.

There is one lady in the castle right now who has already shown me exactly who she is.

It mattered not a whit to him that she had not meant to show him her true feelings.

She had . . . and he was fascinated.

And, no matter the opinion of his advisors, he was determined to get to know her better.

In the royal wing of the palace, the man walked along the hallway with quiet steps — not his normal, silent steps but hushed in the way of a dignified butler.

It had taken nearly a decade to find his way into this part of the palace, but he was finally here and he would show them all.

He walked the halls that he now knew so well he could walk them blindfolded. He could sketch each hallway and secret panel with perfect detail, but he didn't dare.

If he gave away too much information now, he might be pulled out.

He still could not believe they had sent a girl . . . a tiny slip of a girl, no less . . . to carry out the assignment that should have been his.

Inside man indeed . . .

He would show them that he was much more than they thought.

He might be scarred . . .

He might be broken . . .

But he was far from useless.

And he would show them all . . . soon.

After all, it wouldn't be the first time he had killed a king.

Kayden followed the young groom to the stables. He could not have been more than twelve, but he carried himself with the bearing of a much older lad.

She remembered those days. She would have done anything — and did in many cases — to be noticed.

If it had not been for Alfreid . . .

She didn't want to consider what might have become of her. He had taken her under his wing . . .

Kept me out of trouble and . . . she gritted her teeth.

Why is this stupid memory coming up now, again . . . after all this time?

It wasn't easy, but she forced herself to shake off the memory.

After too many years of allowing the past to have power over her, Kayden had learned not to dwell on the past, having long ago discovered it was always best to leave it there.

She could never have anticipated the Prince's words would bring that memory to the surface, as fresh and clear as if it had happened yesterday.

There was just something about the way he had said “my dear” when he kissed her hand, that had brought the event to mind.

She was even more confused because, though she'd been annoyed, it had not elicited the response she'd expected.

Which is probably a good thing.

It certainly would not have been a good idea to punch the Prince in front of everyone.

It had taken her years to learn how to deal, and on at least one occasion, it had nearly cost her life.

Since that unfortunate incident, she had worked diligently to overcome the effects those words had on her.

Perhaps that was the answer after all — her hard work was paying off — which would certainly help with her missions. Those words seemed to be a favorite among men when it came to the women they were trying to impress.

“Are you sure about this, miss?”

She looked around, surprised that they had reached the stables already. This was not good.

Two mistakes in two days is not the way I want to start off a job . . . especially this job.

The Order put their trust in me — and I am not going to let them down. One way or another, I will finish this job.

After that . . . well, after this job, I'll see about buying my way out.

For now, she had better stop daydreaming and pay attention, starting with answering the lad.

“Yes, I'm quite sure.”

She nodded to the young groom, trying to reassure him.

Seriously, has no woman other than me ever requested to ride before?

“Remember that ya can't ride close to the walls . . . the guard would have me head if something were to happen to you.”

His words told her where she had erred in her conclusion. It wasn't about whether or not she could ride. It was about the ridiculous security protocols.

Kayden was tempted to tell the lad just how well she was able to take care of herself, but held her tongue.

No lady should be able to take care of herself — especially as well as she could.

“I promise I will stay well within the palace grounds. I'll not get near a single wall or even a palace guard. Your head will be safe, I swear it.” She smiled at him, trying to reinforce her words.

He nodded and turned toward the stables again. Gratefully, she followed close on his heels.

He walked through the stables. She considered mentioning to him that she was perfectly capable of saddling the horse by herself. But again . . . she would rather not have to argue with anyone about whether or not she was allowed to ride after today.

She knew it would be better to make a friend of the lad than an enemy . . . especially after her encounter with the Prince's huntsman.

If the man hadn't been so stubborn.

She had tried charm, then she'd tried sweetness. But in the end, she had turned to intimidation.

Experience had taught her that a small threat worked as well as pleading . . . better in most cases.

“You wouldn't want me to have to go and hunt down the Prince, would you?”

“No m'lady.”

“I'm certain he would prefer knowing that I am protected. How would he feel if something were to happen to me . . .”

She had let the threat hang in the air a moment before going on, “and that you refused me protection?”

The fear in the man's eyes would stay with Kayden for a long time — and now she was questioning her motives.

Just because I wanted some fresh air . . .

Guilt ate away at her, even now.

Alfreid might have been able to teach her how to intimidate, but he'd not been successful in teaching her how to keep her emotions at bay.

The young man in front of her stopped at the stall of a beautiful mare.

“Sweetie here'll take good care o' ya, Miss.”

“Sweetie, huh?”

Kayden stepped forward and reached up slowly to give the horse a chance to catch her scent.

“You know what you're 'bout then, Miss?”

Kayden laughed at the surprise in the lad's tone.

“Is it such a surprise?”

“It is around 'ere miss. Only lady I ever seen on a horse here is the Queen, and a long time ago, that was.”

His words were not news to her, but she purposely pasted a look of surprise and awe on her face because she wasn't supposed to know about things the Queen hadn't done in years.

“She rides sweetie on occasion, Miss.”

At that, Kayden stepped back. There wasn't anything in her protocol about that.

Was she supposed to ride the same horse the Queen had ridden on occasion or should she find some reason not to? Would she cause a problem if she refused?

“You a'right, Miss? I say somethin' wrong?”

“No. No. You didn't say anything wrong.”

She wanted to ask, but the words stuck in her throat. Fortunately, the lad must be accustomed to figuring things out on his own. Not a moment later, he looked up at her and smiled.

“I see what yer worried 'bout. Don't worry, Miss. This ain't the Queen's horse. She usually rides Spirit over there.”

He motioned behind them with his shoulder and Kayden looked over at the stall.

Just beyond them, the stables changed. The floor was cleaner, the stalls fancier, and the horses looked to be a much better breed.

Ah yes, that makes more sense. The Queen might occasionally ride a different horse to give them a workout as well.

Kayden knew the Queen to be quite the accomplished horsewoman. With that in mind, it made perfect sense.

“Very well, young sir. I shall take your advice. Sweetie it is.”

“Excellent, miss. I'll just saddle her up then. Won't be a moment.”

Kayden stood waiting, trying to look bored, when in fact she could not be more excited. To be out in the open with no schedule, or fittings, or a mindless tea party to deal with.

wind whipped through the dark, silky braids she had carefully arranged to keep her yards of hair manageable on her ride, as she turned her face into the bright sunshine.

There was nothing more refreshing on a beautiful, fall morning as far as she was concerned . . . unless she could be riding in the open without the restraint of walls and boundaries that threatened to smother her.

Opening her eyes, she searched for a target of some sort. She must try this intriguing little bow; it was smaller than she was accustomed to and much lighter, too.

She had always thought MoonStone had possession of the finest weapons available, but this belayed that notion. It was lightweight and sleek and would be easily concealed.

She was tempted to sneak it back to her room and sketch it out so she could copy it later.

Probably a bad idea, but it might be worth trying.

She took aim on a small tree and let the first arrow fly. She hit the general area she'd been aiming for, but missed dead center by several inches, which set her teeth on edge.

I hate to miss.

Taking aim on another small area, she let the second arrow fly. Suddenly she heard a scream as a horse emerged from the thick forest and stepped in front of the tree.

Where had the sound — that scream — come from . . . certainly not from her?

Surely not . . . she told herself, even as she realized it must have been her, as the only other person nearby had come within a second of being struck with an arrow — and they didn't even know it yet — they couldn't.

The rider turned his head then, and leaned forward just enough so the arrow missed him by a hair's breadth, catching his sleeve as it flew past.

It was the sleeve that made her realize the Prince sat in the saddle. It was the same sleeve he'd been wearing in several of the pictures she had studied exhaustively.

And she nearly lost her seat when she thought of what she could have done.

A feeling was clawing its way up her throat, turning her blood to ice and her nerves to mush. Her thoughts were all but incoherent as the scene played out in her mind.

Her arrow had come within less than an inch of piercing the Prince's heart. She was out in the open. That could not have been explained as an accident in any way.

And the Prince would be dead . . .

The wave of hurt, of anguish, that rushed through her made absolutely no sense. But her thoughts were still tripping over each other and nothing seemed to make sense.

A strange noise filled her ears, blocking out every other sound and spots danced in her vision, making her dizzy.

Suddenly, the Prince was beside her, reaching out to her, but she shifted in her saddle, pulling away from him in panic. Frightening thoughts came crashing back in on her.

The arrow . . .

The horse . . .

The Prince.

I nearly . . . He almost . . . I might have . . . And he would be . . . as she pushed down the ridiculous anguish again, she couldn't help herself, her temper exploded.

“What were you thinking!”

She shouted the words, not considering for even a moment that she was addressing the Prince — or who else might hear her.

“What the blazes were you doing? You could have been killed. You idiot! Did it occur to you even for a moment to look where you were going? No, of course it didn't. And just where are your guards?”

With those words, something clicked in her befuddled brain, reminding her where she was and who she was speaking with . . . shouting at. She quickly snapped her mouth closed and ducked her head, anticipating his reaction.

She expected anger, screaming . . . or worse, the sort of calm and terrifying fury she had been on the receiving end of — only once — from Drey.

He might even call for his guards and have me locked away.

She quietly began to calculate how close she was to the nearest exit.

Could I get over the wall? I know it's nearby but with him so close . . . her thoughts were interrupted by laughter; deep, full, robust laughter.

She found herself searching his face to see if he had possibly sustained an injury somehow . . . something she hadn't seen immediately . . . perhaps from hitting his head, but he appeared to be in perfect health.

“Pleased to amuse you, Sire.”

“You do indeed, milady.”

The shocked gasp that escaped through her lips turned quickly into a hiss before she managed to close her mouth and regain control of herself.

Did I truly speak aloud? What is wrong with me?

One of his perfect eyebrows tilted at an odd angle as he studied her and she was surprised at how much a struggle it was not to squirm in her saddle under his scrutiny.

“Have you nothing else to say?”

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness.”

He surprised her again with more laughter.

“You are the only person I know that is capable of delivering a smooth apology that sounds more like a threat.”

Uh oh, here it comes. If he's only going to throw me out, it's too bad I missed.

“A puzzle most intriguing.”
His words confused her further.

Was he kicking her out or not?

Nothing about this man makes sense.

She sat there, staring across at him, waiting to see what his next action would be, determined not to be surprised, no matter what he did.

“You are a very good shot.” He looked over his shoulder at the tree, “Unless of course, you were aiming for me . . .”

“If I had aimed for you, Your Highness, I would have hit you.”

He let out another low, self-assured laugh before looking back at her.

“Of that I have no doubt, my . . . milady.”

She heard the words he had intended to use as surely as if he had said them — but he hadn't, so she clamped down tight on an emotion that rushed through her as a memory surged into her thoughts — and threatened to plunge her into panic again.

“Kayden!”

He vaulted from his horse and was beside her so quickly; she barely had time to register the movement before he was reaching up to her.

“I am well.”

She protested but he ignored her, placing his hands gently around her waist to pull her from the horse.

“You are as white as the clouds above.” His voice was low, soothing — and she felt herself relaxing as he gently sat her beneath the shade of a large maple tree.

“Relax.”

“I told you — I am well.”

“So you said . . . but it is not true.”

He brushed a hand slowly down the side of her face as he spoke and a slow burn bloomed wherever his skin touched hers; throwing her emotions into even more chaos.

“You do not always have to be so brave, Kayden.” And his voice was soft but no longer soothing.

The burn was within her now, stirring up emotion, sending a rush of longing through her, starting where his hand touched her face and spreading out from there.

Resting a hand on the soft grass beneath her, she looked up at the Prince, wondering what it was about him that affected her in a way that no one else ever had.

“I see the color is returning. Good.”

His hand left her cheek then. Kayden was certain her thoughts would return to normal then . . .

But they did not.

Dvarius could not remember the last time he had felt so alive. Ironic, since only a few moments ago he had nearly been shot — granted, by an arrow — but shot, nonetheless.

The young woman who was currently staring daggers at him was a true fascination. Not quite what he expected — and a puzzle as well.

He was delighted to realize that not only could she ride, she could shoot as well.

She will be a constant challenge.

It was oddly exciting to realize that this was precisely what he wanted. A challenge would be better than blind obedience, of this he was certain.

“Did you enjoy your ride?”

She looked up at him with shock on her face. Her expression made it clear she expected some sort of punishment — or even a lecture.

It piqued his curiosity, but there were more important things to be said, so he let it pass for the moment.

“Before it ended abruptly, that is . . .”

She let out a low laugh at his words, causing the muscles of his stomach to tighten in reaction.

“It was rather nice, yes. I enjoy riding. Do you?”

Her question took him by surprise. None of the other ladies he had spoken with so far had asked him anything of the sort.

And why should it surprise me that she is different in this as well?

“I do. There is not as much time for it as I would like, but it is a favorite activity. I am delighted to see someone else taking advantage of our wonderful stables.”

Since her horse had wandered away to munch on the nearby grass, he settled on the ground beside her and watched the range of emotions that fluttered across her features.

Whatever she was struggling with appeared to be quite serious.

“Kayden?”

She looked up at him, one delicate eyebrow winging up in surprise.

“Your Highness?”

“When we first met — and a few moments ago — you reacted quite strongly to the phrase . . . well, I won't use it, but I'm certain you know the one I mean.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

He watched her eyes cloud over and worried that she might not respond if he kept pushing. She was unpredictable at best. And he was quite certain by now that she would not answer unless she wanted to.

He had no illusions that she would tell him what he wanted to know just because he was the Prince, but he needed . . . no, he wanted to know what it was about the phrase “my dear” that bothered her so much.

“Would you tell me about it?”

“It's nothing, really.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

She looked down at the blade of grass between her fingers. He watched as she twirled the green blade around and around and waited for her to say more.

“It happened a long time ago, Your Highness. I apologize for my reaction. I truly thought I'd moved beyond it.”

Recognizing that she was not going to say more, Dvarius decided it would be best to stop pushing.

“I know something about that. My advisors tell me that I should have already moved on, but how does one simply stop mourning the loss of a father?”

She nodded, but did not say anything else. There was a hint of something in her eyes for a moment, but it was gone before he could begin to figure it out.

With each moment, he became more fascinated by her, more determined to learn everything about her . . . but for now, he decided to switch to a more neutral topic — despite his dislike of meaningless small-talk.

“Are you enjoying the palace?”

A laugh escaped her before she stifled it.

“Not enjoying the palace, then?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him before answering.

“No, Your Highness. I mean, yes, Your Highness.”

She looked down and let out a little huff as a becoming blush spread over what little he could still see of her features.

He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but he sensed that it would not be well-received, so he held his tongue.

After several moments, she lifted her head, a deep scarlet still coloring her cheeks, and spoke again, clearly measuring each word.

“I am enjoying the palace, Your Highness. It is not at all what I am accustomed to . . .” she looked down again and Dvarius wondered if she had truly meant to say those words.

Something told him she had not.

“It is beautiful. My rooms are magnificent, and the view from my balcony is breathtaking.”

She snapped her mouth shut again rather quickly and Dvarius found himself stifling a laugh.

She must have realized just how her words might sound. He was tempted to respond to the unspoken invitation, but since he wanted to know more about her, he chose to steer her attention away from her faux pas.

“Tell me about your home. You grew up not far from the palace, yes?”

“I did indeed. However, in many ways, my childhood feels worlds removed from all of this.”

She waved a hand in the air; gesturing behind them to the palace.

“I believe I know what you mean. On the trips where I accompanied father into the city, it was like stepping into another world.”

“You went into the city with your father? How often?”

Her face was a mask of surprise. Dvarius wondered if she knew how eager she sounded.

Is this the same young woman?

She was more of a puzzle every moment he spent with her.

“He went out into the city nearly every week, to check on his chapels. They were very important to him. I admit; I did not see the merit until it was almost too late. I accompanied him no more than a handful of times.”

He looked down as the gravity of his words took hold. Thankfully, Kayden's expression distracted him before he could become lost in his anguish.

“What was The King doing with the chapels?”

The curiosity burning in her voice was just the distraction he needed, so he held tight to it.

It was no surprise she knew nothing of his father's project. Many of the wealthier families eschewed what they considered an unnecessary expense on the part of the government; her family must have been one of them.

“He refurbished many of the city's chapels so that the few remaining clergymen could minister to the people.”

“I had no idea . . .” her words drifted off and there was something in her eyes — surprise and perhaps . . . worry.

More and more of a puzzle . . .

She shook her head and spoke again, her voice full of curiosity again.

“Have you visited many other cities in Auralius?”

“Oh yes. Father's projects extended into more than just our capital. There is need everywhere . . .” his voice trailed off as he thought of how close he had come to missing out entirely on that time with his father.

If only I had realized earlier . . . I could have had so much more time with him.

“You miss him.”

Her words did not get his attention as much as the hand she laid on his arm and he found himself saying the first thing that came to mind.

“How are you so able to see precisely what is going on within me, and yet you are a mystery . . . in every way?”

“Perhaps I see it more easily because I feel it every day myself.”

“How could I have forgotten? Of course, you know exactly how it feels.”

He mentally kicked himself. I should have remembered that.

“It was also . . . a long time ago, Your Highness. Not so fresh for me as it would be for you.”

Her voice was so quiet, he could hardly make out her words, but the misery in them was enough to tell him everything he needed to know.

“Does it ever get any better?”

Dvarius turned his hand over, sliding his fingers gently around Kayden's wrist, rubbing his thumb along the soft skin there.

“No, it doesn't.”

She looked down at their hands, but he didn't miss the break in her voice.

“I should not be glad we have such a thing to share, but . . . I find myself pleased to know that you understand what I've been going through these past few months. None of the others have any idea.”

Kayden looked up at him then, and he was surprised to feel such a strong pull building between them.

Given what he had already felt every time he'd been near her, it shouldn't have been a surprise — but it was.

As he looked into her dark, soulful eyes, he felt himself leaning toward her, almost as if the pull was physical. This was much more than holding a shared past; this was something from deep within.

He looked down at her lips for a moment and he could feel the muscles in his stomach tighten in anticipation.

What would it feel like to capture that full, lower lip in mine . . .

Will I shock her if I simply lean in and take a kiss?

Should I ask?

Thoughts tumbled through his mind as what he was contemplating began to sink in.

She would be the first woman he had kissed.

His advisors had begged him to keep that information to himself, but somehow he knew it was something he would need to tell her.

However, before he could do either, her horse's lead line dropped between them and shattered the moment.

She let out what sounded like a very nervous laugh.

He wanted . . . desperately . . . to ask if she was experiencing the same emotions that he was feeling.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again no more than a second later, without uttering a word.

“We should get back.”

He looked up at her, but her eyes had clouded over again and he was left with his confusion and no answers.

As much as he detested admitting it, she was right. They should get back to the palace.

He knew that — but it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Reluctantly, Dvarius stood and brushed himself off, leaning down to offer Kayden his hand.

For a moment, it appeared she might not take it, but then she slid her fingers into his open hand and he pulled her to her feet.

Somehow he overcompensated and she ended up pressed against his chest instead of safely on her feet.

He immediately moved his hands, encircling her with his arms to steady her and they were pressed even closer.

He looked down at her just as she looked up at him, and his attention was again drawn to her lips.

Heat traveled up the length of his chest. Everywhere she was pressed against him felt too hot . . . and the muscles that had been tight felt now as though they might snap.

She cleared her throat and quickly stepped back, putting far too much — yet at the same time, not nearly enough — distance between them.

“Your Highness.”

He turned away to take her horse's reins and rubbed a frustrated hand over his face.

As he turned back to help lift her into the saddle, he was shocked to see her swinging herself — skirts and all — into place.

He looked at her for several seconds before he moved away to retrieve the bow she'd dropped earlier.

As he walked back, he examined the small weapon. It was clearly a palace weapon. How had this slip of a girl managed to convince the huntsman she could handle such a thing?

“You seem to have dropped this.”

Her expression gave nothing away as she reached down to take the slim weapon.

“I'm curious. Just how did you manage to . . . convince . . . Gelford to release this to you?”

His reaction to the very feminine smile she shot back at him as she shifted in the saddle was swift and reminded him strongly of the tightening in his gut only a moment ago.

It forestalled any further questions.

Once she was settled in the saddle, the minx turned to him and with a very self-satisfied smile, took off toward the palace stables, tossing a challenge over her shoulder as she went.

“Race you back . . . Your Highness.” Her laughter rang out as she gave the mare her head.

Dvarius found himself laughing with her, even as he urged his stallion to catch up.

He knew most of the horses in his stables well — and the mare she rode would certainly provide a challenge for Destiny, but not enough to cause him any concern.

They galloped through the carefully spaced trees of the sparse forest, with him still firmly in pursuit of her.

After a few minutes, the forest thinned, giving way to green fields, giving them both the opportunity to increase their pace.

Dvarius let his laughter ring out as he enjoyed the feel of the wind whipping through his hair. And the sight of the dark red braids that had come loose from the knot Kayden had secured at the base of her neck excited him.

Here . . . finally, was the challenge he'd been craving. Here was the real person — this was no facade.

She nearly ran me through with an arrow, for goodness sake.

He thought of what little he knew about her as they raced across the expanse of well-manicured lawn.

His advisors had given him files on every young woman here, but he'd learned more about Kayden in their two short encounters than he could from any file.

She had a fierce temper and a beautiful smile.

He could see that she saw him as a prince, but she also saw him as just a man . . .

Otherwise she would never have shouted at me.

Anyone else would have just apologized — again and again.

Then there was the fact that she'd nearly fainted. That had to mean she was concerned for his life; at least a little.

She clearly has strong feelings for me.

They might only consist of annoyance at the moment, but he had high hopes that he could change that.

When she looked over her shoulder and sent him that bewitching smile, he leaned low over Destiny's neck and urged him even faster.

The race was even more of a thrill because he felt quite certain she would not throw the race just because he was the Prince.

Still . . . he was determined to win.

She laughed when he came abreast of her horse — and then leaned over her own saddle, hair blowing free now in the wind that whipped between the two of them.

Hooves thundered over the smooth, green lawn in the early morning stillness as the two of them raced, neck and neck.

Just as they reached the final rise before the grounds sloped down to the stables, she pulled ahead and stayed there.

No matter how he urged Destiny, Kayden pushed a half-length ahead every time Dvarius gained even an inch.

They crested the hill at a dead run and she took full advantage of her horse's smaller frame in those final lengths to the stables.

They raced all the way to the main stable door — pulling up just short of running over the young stable hand who walked out, carrying feed buckets.

At the sudden stop of the horses, he stepped backward and dropped both buckets, stumbling over a paving stone.

Dvarius dismounted and went to check on the lad, only to find Kayden already leaning over him and clucking very much like a mother hen.

The young man looked from Kayden to Dvarius and his eyes widened in terror.

Before he'd even gotten to his feet, he changed position as he tried to bow and ended up back on his rear.

Kayden turned her head and threw a look behind her at Dvarius that was completely unreadable, before turning back to the lad and giving him her hand.

The lad looked up at the Prince and then back to Kayden, shaking his head — but Kayden took his arm and pulled him up anyway, before turning to look at Dvarius again.

“Does everyone react this way around you?”

He found himself struggling to not laugh at her fierce tone.

“Aside from you . . . yes, generally.”

One side of her lips twitched, but that was the only reaction he could see.

“My apologies, Your Majesty . . .” the lad began, but Dvarius waved away his words.

“Not to worry young man. She has that effect on everyone.”

Dvarius looked over at Kayden and was not surprised to see her wearing that same smile he was quickly becoming quite fond of.

There was no shame in the girl . . . not one bit.

He was not at all surprised to see that she had one arm companionably slung over the shoulders of the stable boy — as if he were a younger brother instead of a servant.

That would be why his advisors had done everything they could to steer him away from her — and it was certainly one of the reasons he was so fascinated by her.

This was the woman he needed by his side when the Prime Minister placed the crown on his head.

She did not look at him and see a prince.

She didn't look at the stable boy and see a servant.

She simply saw people.

She would help him remember, even when everyone else around him would strive to make him forget, that his subjects were people — not just servants . . . and certainly not pawns in some massive chess game.

Drey looked over at the spineless excuse for an operative who lay on the ground before him.

What he wouldn't give to have more operatives like the girl he'd sent into the palace.

She knew when to obey . . . but she also had a way of going around the rules when they didn't suit her. And she did things her own way, which did not always suit his purposes, but her track record was quite impressive.

Granted, this was the most delicate assignment she had been given to date, but that was one thing that made it so perfect.

If she failed, the palace guard would take care of her, and if she succeeded . . . well he might have to reward her quite heavily.

The sound of whimpering met his ears and he felt a muscle in his jaw twitch.

It was the only thing about himself he had never been able to train out and it reminded him forcefully that he was only human.

Therefore, anyone who caused it to happen met with swift justice.

He turned back to the quivering girl with a tight smile that would have terrified anyone unfortunate enough to witness it.

Dvarius strode purposefully down the hall. Every meeting his advisors had scheduled in the last week had been centered around yet another girl they were certain would be the perfect choice for him.

He was beginning to loathe agreeing to this entire charade. He was thrilled to have met Kayden, but he was perturbed at being kept from her.

Their exhilarating ride had been on his mind all week and he had been thinking of little else during these meetings. In every boring session his advisors had dragged him through, he had been thinking about watching Kayden ride ahead of him, red hair whipping in the wind, her delighted laughter bouncing back to him.

The memory had two effects on him.

First, he could hardly wait to see her again; to have her by his side.

Second, he worried about the effect she had on every other male around. No doubt there were a dozen suitors actively vying for her hand.

The thought of Kayden with another man had him increasing his pace.

and after a moment he forced himself to slow down again when he realized how much noise he was making as he moved quickly through the halls.

Why did I wear the entire uniform? It makes more noise than an entire squad of guards.

It was a silly question because he knew precisely why he had worn it. He wanted to make the best impression he could on her.

The choice might ultimately be up to him but he knew that he wanted her to choose him — as he had already chosen her.

More than anything else, he wanted that.

With this woman, he knew if she chose him, it would be about interest, love, emotion, attachment — not a crown.

She was not someone who was only out for his crown . . . he was certain of that.

With Kayden, he could see marriage as a place of happiness and love; which was precisely what he wanted.

He desired what his parents had achieved; not a marriage that was cold and loveless, not something that had more to do with connections or money than love and attachment.

He was certain God meant that for him, with Kayden. Dvarius had been praying diligently about it since he'd first walked into the Great Hall that evening and spotted her.

Everything about Kayden intrigued him; he wanted her to be his choice, and he wanted to be her choice, but above all he wanted what God had been planning for him because he knew that would be the best choice for both of them.

It certainly had been in his parent's case — he'd heard those very words many times.

“It all had to be God's plan, son. If I had been King first, I would never have been allowed to marry your mother. This is why I have always been grateful I was not the King when I met her.”

Of course, his mother had always said that was nonsense. God had meant them for each other and one way or another, He would have brought the two of them together; which was essentially what his father had said.

Dvarius thought about the look that had always passed between the two of them when the subject came up. They would reach for each other and smile over their clasped hands.

That . . . was precisely what he wanted from marriage.

Thinking of his parents made him think about Kayden — and the thought of seeing her again made him feel excited, impatient, and more than a little nervous.

He smiled as he was turning the corner, but the smile disappeared when he collided with a small, female form. He reached out instinctively as they fell; wrapping his arms around the girl, he turned so that he could cushion her fall.

For a moment, he was amazed to feel a bit guilty — thinking that he would be tangled up with a young woman other than the one he intended to marry.

However, the guilt lasted only a moment, until he saw a glint of red out of the corner of his eye and turned his head just in time to catch sight of that bewitching smile of hers.

Kayden. He nearly breathed her name but caught himself just in time.

They landed in a heap on the floor and he took full advantage of the opportunity to enjoy being close to her.

He hadn't appreciated having her in his arms yesterday nearly enough and he was determined to do so now.

Surprisingly, she didn't immediately scramble away. She even looked mildly amused as she lay sprawled across his stomach. After a few moments, she pulled her arms up and planted both elbows on his chest . . . and then she rested her chin on her tiny fists.

“You planned this, didn't you?”

He was delighted to see laughter in her eyes as she said it.

“You would not believe me if I said no, so I may as well take credit for it,” he teased back and was rewarded with another laugh from her.

The sound of her laughter was positively delightful.

The thought that he could happily stay right where he was all evening crossed his mind; however, he was certain someone would come along at some point and it would not look proper for him to be on the floor with her on top of him — so, he reluctantly began to shift.

She was quicker, springing up with agility that he could not imagine her having, especially under the yards of fabric her dress must have.

When she gained her footing, she reached down a hand to him and he had to smile at the look on her face. As the expression implied, it appeared that she had indeed tucked her tongue into her cheek.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. It's a relief to find that you are not, in fact, perfect.”

She placed her fisted hands on her tiny waist — since he did not take her hand to help him up.

“Oh Kayden, I'm far from perfect, I assure you.”

He sat there looking at her for a long moment before getting to his feet.

Does she have any idea of how appealing she is — standing there, behaving more like a scolding mother hen than a young woman vying for . . . well, me.

Of course, that was the very reason he was so determined to impress her, choose her, keep her for his own . . . forever. because she was not vying for him — or his crown.

She was simply being herself — and who she was impressed him more than she would ever know.

Looking at her, the possibility of other suitors came to mind again and he felt fresh determination well up within him at the very least, to hold on to her as much as possible this evening.

With that in mind, he bowed and held out his arm to her.

“Milady, may I escort you?” and she reached out her hand, but snatched it back immediately with a smile.

“Do you promise to watch where you're going?”

He couldn't help himself — he laughed — delighted to see the sparkle in her eyes.

“Technically speaking, the fault is as much yours as it is mine. Even in heels, you make no noise when you walk, so it is clearly not my fault that I did not hear you.”

“Yes, but you walked right into me. I was watching where I was going, but you were moving so fast, I couldn't get out of the way in time.”

She said the words earnestly — and he laughed again.

“All true.”

“Very well. I promise to be very careful. After all, I will be escorting someone precious.”

He looked at her face as he said the last words, but there was no change in her expression that he could see.

Clearly I have a lot of work to do yet.

She surrendered her hand, which he firmly tucked through his bent arm, and they walked slowly toward the grand ballroom.

As she and the Prince walked into the Grand Ballroom, Kayden had to work to keep her expression in place.

Everywhere she looked, she could see jewels glinting, gold shimmering, and silks swishing as people moved about the enormous room.

She could feel the breath catch in her throat. She wasn't ready for this. All the training in the world could not have prepared her for this.

Something must have signaled their entrance because suddenly every eye was on them and she struggled to keep a blush from spreading across her cheeks.

The heat that bloomed there told her she'd been unsuccessful, so she simply inclined her head as the Prince escorted her to the middle of the room.

Whether she felt confident or not, she was determined to show the rest of them that she wasn't the slightest bit intimidated.

Not that I have any reason to be, she mused; being that she was not here for the same reason as the others.

No; her reasons were more important.

More urgent.

And more — much more — dangerous.

Remembering where she was at the moment, she purposely made her smile a bit brighter, enough to reach her eyes. If anyone was watching her, they would see the sparkle and believe it was there from her excitement at being near the Prince.

The Prince stopped in the middle of the wide, gleaming floor and nodded to the orchestra. Just before the music began, she realized what he was doing . . . he intended to dance with her — right now.

She had thought he was leading her into the ballroom to be polite. Suddenly, panic surged up from the pit of her stomach.

He can't dance with me — not to open the ball.

She realized it was too late to do anything about it now. He spoke as he was turning her in his arms and the music began.

“Shall we?”

He stepped forward — and she really had no choice but to follow — so she did. She held her head high, her eyes never leaving his.

She was thankful now for the hours of dancing she'd endured.

With everyone in the room watching her, she did not want to mess this up. It would look suspicious and could hurt her chance to get close to him.

Well . . . I'm not really sure that's true.

He seems to be interested in me . . . even pursuing me. I must be doing something right. Drey would be pleased. The thought both elated and terrified her.

They spun together across the floor in a wide, sweeping arc.

Oddly, she was thankful they were spinning too fast for her to take note of the faces surrounding them.

Jealousy wasn't something she had experienced before, but she was certain there was more than a little of it coloring the faces of her rivals.

As the Prince turned her around she paused, before spinning back toward him.

When she did, Kayden caught sight of one of the other girls — a lovely girl, really — who was watching her, looking pleased.

It completely threw her off.

What possible reason could she have to look happy that I am in the Prince's arms?
Especially when every other girl would prefer to see me strung up from the nearest tree . . .

the conflicting response made no sense. Kayden puzzled over it for several seconds, until she looked up and met the Prince's gaze.

Once she looked into his eyes, every other thought melted away. The ballroom disappeared, leaving only the two of them — dancing in the clouds somewhere.

No one was watching, no one judging . . . no orders, no mission, nothing but the two of them and the music.

It had only taken a glance to find herself caught. The intensity of his expression held her attention and even the music vanished into the thick fog of passion that enveloped them.

As they twirled, she became aware of his hand at her back. His hold was gentle but firm as he swept her across the dance floor.

Even through the thick, voluminous layers of her dress, she could feel the heat of his body — the thrill of being so close.

The sensations that coursed through her were more than a little confusing. She had never experienced anything like it; the feel of him against her was exhilarating, yet frightening.

She continued to move with him, looking into those amazing eyes, while trying to figure out what was going on inside of her.

“No wonder I can never hear you walking. You are surprisingly light on your feet.” His words surprised her.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I'm not . . . well, not really,” he answered with a laugh.

“Your Highness is quite graceful as well.”

“Am I? Then why do I feel as clumsy as I was in my youth?”

His words confused her, and the laugh that accompanied them; even more so.

Is he asking me a question or is his query meant to be purely rhetorical?

“I don't want you to slip away from me, Kayden.”

The words were whispered in her ear; the brush of warm breath sent a shiver down her spine as the meaning behind them caused the muscles in her stomach to tighten.

Could he possibly mean what I think he means?

Somehow she felt the answer should be obvious, but there were so many thoughts swirling around in her mind, she was too confused to figure it out.

Looking up at the Prince's face, the depth of emotion she saw in his eyes only confused her further.

Someone bumped her lightly, but she barely registered the motion. It was certainly not enough to pull her from the hazy cloud she was still floating along in with the Prince, but it made her realize that, at some point, other people must have begun to move onto the dance floor.

She wanted to look away, to see who had bumped her . . . who had joined them on the floor, but there was no chance of them becoming enough of a distraction to pull her from the passion in those deep, chocolate eyes.

As Kayden began to tremble, Dvarius' arm tightened around her, bringing her even closer to him.

“Where have you been all my life?”

The Prince whispered in her ear, allowing his cheek to remain pressed against hers.

The soft, whispered, words reminded Kayden why she was here.

Did my mission just get easier . . . or impossible?

After another minute the song ended and Kayden expected the Prince to step away from her — but he did not.

He surprised her by sweeping her into the next dance as well. It was a more exuberant tune, so she was pressed against him even more tightly by their near-constant spins and twirls.

His smile widened when she looked up at him again. He must be enjoying himself; perhaps that was why he had continued to dance with her. She told herself that it couldn't be more than that.

Thankfully her heart rate had returned to normal, and she could concentrate on the mission once again.

And once she could think clearly, she was reminded of the incident from yesterday.

At the thought of nearly skewering him with an arrow, she felt heat rush across her cheeks again.

It was all she could do to not pull away and run to find a hiding place. The ramifications of such an incident would have been swift and harsh and did not bear thinking of.

The palace guard would have done everything possible to keep her from escaping the palace grounds.

Even if, somehow she had managed to escape, she would have been swiftly hunted down.

It was at least one reason Drey had ordered her mission to look like an accident.

Of course . . . Drey wouldn't exactly mourn my death. And he would get what he wants — just not quite how he wants it.

The pain that pierced her when she thought of the Prince's body lying on the ground — the life slowly leaving him — was sudden, sharp and shocking.

Kayden shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts, but the image persisted. She had visualized that one moment over and over again.

Each time, her heart had jumped into her throat when she remembered seeing his horse step in front of the tree. And then she would calm as he leaned forward and the arrow missed him . . . by a hair's breadth.

She remembered too, the reaction they had gotten from the stable boy, whose name she had completely forgotten, but wanted to learn, especially in the face of what had happened with the Prince.

The lad had squeaked in alarm when he saw the rip in the Prince's sleeve; before either of them could even say a word, he had rushed off to find his master.

Not a minute later, the stable master had skidded to a halt beside them — clearly confused when he found the two of them involved in fits of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.

He'd recovered quickly enough though and dropped a bow to the Prince before he noticed the ripped sleeve as well.

Then his composure had vanished as well and he had rushed back into the stables in search of a medical kit — which had only served to inspire another round of laughter from her and the Prince.

It had taken several minutes for them to relay the story — most of it anyway — with the Prince reassuring the man he was not injured and that the entire thing had been nothing but an accident.

The stable master had looked as if he wanted to argue, or perhaps as if he'd been tempted to carry the Prince to a doctor himself . . . just to be sure. But he eventually accepted the Prince's continued reassurances.

The two of them had walked back to the palace together . . . without an escort, laughing about the incident until they had reached her rooms — where the Prince had left her with a sweeping, exaggerated bow and . . . another kiss on the hand.

All of it had left her very confused.

She still did not know what to make of the Prince's behaviour. None of it lined up with what she had been told to expect, except for the one moment after they had met — when his advisor had pulled him away.

It was obvious there was something going on beyond what she was prepared for, and it would be up to her to figure out what to do about it.

Perhaps this was one of the reasons Drey had chosen her — for her ability to think on her feet, to react to a situation which was not going according to plan and make a split-second decision.

If it wasn't . . . well, that really was not something she wanted to consider.

Unbidden, an image from several months past came back to her. The possibility of Drey being unhappy with her sent a chill down her spine.

It was all she could do not to react physically to the memory. If she shivered, the Prince would certainly notice . . . especially since they were so close.

Instead, she focused her attention on the Prince again.

His puzzling behaviour aside, she had a job to do — and the quicker she got to it, the sooner she could get out of these crazy surroundings and on to her next assignment.

She wanted to think about where they might send her next, but there were too many thoughts floating around in her head; the memory of being sprawled on top of the Prince in the hallway earlier, the way her heart had jumped into her throat when he'd stepped in front of her arrow, the warmth that flowed from everywhere his body brushed up against hers.

Kayden thought about how strange it had felt to be lying there on top of him after he had knocked her down.

His actions then were confusing for her as well.

He had twisted at the last moment and turned her so that he didn't fall on her . . . but why he would care if he fell on her?

Am I not just another girl to him?

Was she not just one out of twenty-five young women brought to the palace for him to choose a bride?

And why had he escorted her personally to her door yesterday . . . especially after she had nearly shot him with an arrow?

He had escorted her to the ball tonight; of course, he might have done that as an apology for running into her. But he'd also danced with her; not only the first — and most important — dance, but the next two as well.

The feel of his arms around her right now was equally confusing.

She tried to ignore the tiny voice inside that told her it was a mistake — that her mission might not be worth carrying out.

She needed to gather more information before she moved forward with anything, but there was another voice inside, telling her to stop asking questions, do her job and get out of the palace.

The worrisome question in her mind was . . . in the end, which voice would she listen to?

How could I have let my guard down so quickly — so completely?

What have I done?

Dvarius watched Kayden as they danced. He was accustomed to people often being difficult to read, but he found her nearly impossible.

She had clearly been annoyed with him when he'd knocked her down in the hall, but she had allowed him to escort her into the ballroom and put forth no protest when he led her immediately onto the dance floor.

Through three songs, they had moved together, almost as one.

However, now she had pulled away from him and was stiff in his arms.

There was a slight smile on her face, but not the one he was especially fond of. the smile there now looked strained, forced, not at all sincere.

It was completely at odds with her earlier behaviour.

“Do you realize how this looks?”

Her words took him by surprise, as did the expression on her face. Those amazing eyes of hers were full of ice and anger.

“I am unsure of what you are referring to.”

He knew precisely what she meant though. In the days of his grandfather, opening a royal ball together would have been a very public way to announce their engagement.

Petero must be livid.

“I don't see this being something to smile about, Your Highness.”

He hadn't intentionally smiled but it was not a surprise that thinking of the sour look on Petero's face would bring a smile to his face.

“You're right, of course.”

He ducked his head but could feel the smile spreading so it most likely spoiled his attempt at an expression of penance.

“We have only been here two weeks. Do you not realize how this will make you look to the public?”

“To be honest Kayden, I care not how it looks or what anyone thinks of me.”

The expression in her eyes changed then, and an unexpected warmth spread slowly through him as they continued to move around the dance floor.

She'd looked at him with annoyance or fear in her eyes. He had seen confusion and even attraction in their pewter depths — but this was the first time she had looked at him with respect.

It was not the respect he saw every day in the eyes of his servants, it was the respect he had seen only once in his father's eyes; an emotion borne of pride, which humbled him.

In that moment — staring into her eyes, spinning with her around the room; surrounded by dignitaries and heads of state and twenty-four other girls who had been brought to the palace for the sake of a crown — he knew he had fallen in love with her.

And in the next moment, he was surprised to feel fear taking hold of him.

What if she doesn't return my feelings?

What if she is only here because she has to be?

What if she's not the least bit interested in me?

What if she does not share my faith?

How can I join myself with someone who does not believe as I do — who has not given their heart to God.

So many of his people had lost touch with their faith during the past several hundred years of war, hunger, cold and fear.

He was blessed to have had the legacy passed down to him from his parents, but he understood that many parents out there in the provinces; which were still recovering — taught their children quite the opposite.

But how can I not . . . choose Kayden?

He looked down at her again. She was looking away from him, attempting to affect disinterest, but the blush in her cheeks gave her away.

“Ignoring me won't change their minds, you know.”

Her lips twitched, but she didn't look back at him.

Determined to get her attention again, he pulled her a bit closer and moved them toward the edge of the dance floor.

It took only a moment, once they were close enough, to slip through the side door.

Every balcony door was open to allow the breeze to wind its way inside so the music followed them as they moved slowly along the wide, stone balcony.

Something changed then, in the way they moved together. As soon as they were away from the crowd of people, the air around them heated up — sizzled.

A moment later, Kayden felt the Prince's breath at her ear again. She tried to make out what he was saying but it was difficult to understand him.

It took a moment for her to figure out that he was humming along with the song they were dancing to.

The feel of his breath at her ear and the vibrations his humming sent through their connected bodies, brought with it a whole new round of confusion as heat coiled in her gut.

Under the night sky, lit only with star-shine, she became even more aware of every part of her that was pressed up against the Prince.

There was heat crawling along her skin, pooling anywhere they touched — even through the barrier of clothing.

She was a flame — and he was the oxygen.

She looked up at him again.

His smile had not disappeared but it had changed. There was something in his eyes that made the breath catch in her throat.

He held her tightly to him, possessively . . .

Am I misreading things? Could he really be feeling this same heat and confusion?

Or is he as cold and unfeeling as Drey told me?

She wanted to speak, but no words came. She felt as if there was something she needed to tell him, but her thoughts were too jumbled to form coherent speech.

A moment later she was horrified when the thoughts cleared in her mind and she realized what she had been trying desperately to say.

She started to pull away, but his hold was tight enough that she would have to forcibly remove herself.

She was certain that would draw too much attention so she stayed where she was; cautious to keep herself separated as much as possible.

She would have to get a handle on this — not to do so would be disastrous.

This was precisely where Dvarius wanted to be — and that was enough. Unfortunately it was not meant to be for long.

The moment the song ended, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Truly.

Dvarius struggled with his temper. He knew this was not the place to cause a scene but it was a mighty struggle.

“Your Highness, there are twenty-four young ladies who are waiting to dance with the Prince; most likely a bit impatiently by now.”

He wanted to argue with the man but knew it would be a waste of breath, so Dvarius resigned himself to several hours of boredom, especially since he knew — if Petero had his way — there would not be another chance to dance with the one woman he really wanted to.

Nodding to his least favorite advisor, he turned back to Kayden.

“I apologize, Milady. It appears my presence is required elsewhere.”

With a sigh, he swept a deep bow to her and turned away before he could talk himself out of leaving her side.

“Your Majesty, I really must protest your spending so much time with that particular young woman.” Petero was saying as they walked away from Kayden.

Dvarius looked back at her as they went. She stood in place for a few seconds before moving away, following the balcony and avoiding the ballroom that was crowded with dancing couples.

He lost sight of her as soon as he and Petero passed back through the balcony doors.

He was not at all surprised at the sense of loss he felt at losing even that tremulous connection with her.

He turned back to Petero and tried to ignore the steady litany of explanations the man was reciting — mostly consisting of why Kayden would not be a good choice.

When he exhausted those, he continued with arguments for the young ladies that must be Petero's personal favorites — one whom they were certainly headed toward.

Not a moment later, Petero stepped up to a young lady who had clearly been waiting for them to approach.

She swept into a graceful curtsy at their approach, rising just as smoothly after a few moments.

“Your Majesty, may I present Lady Catarine Egeria of the house of Cottswoll.”

Petero inclined a respectful head to the Prince before turning to the young woman and her parents, who stood just behind her.

“Madam, may I present His Royal Highness, Prince Dvarius Regald Maxillan Fortine IV,” and with another bow, he stepped back and left Dvarius to their mercy.

Dvarius looked at the young woman and was surprised at what he saw.

She was attractive enough, and she was certainly wearing finery just as the other girls, but she was not sporting garish jewels or enough paint to make her look like an entirely different person.

She had a quiet beauty which appealed to him. Her clothing was of the finest material, but understated and demure.

Even her parents were nothing like he had been expecting. Unlike some of the others, they were not looking at him as if he were a prize to be won.

There was interest, but it was more of a respectful manner, which immediately caught his attention and held it.

Since he had already been introduced, the next logical thing to do was ask the young lady to dance.

“Milady, would you grace me with a dance?”

“It would be my honour, Your Highness.”

She gave him a shy smile and looked back at her parents for approval before taking his arm.

The young lady's gentile manner was impressive — as was the appraising perusal her father gave before nodding to his daughter.

Dvarius led Lady Catarine out onto the floor and swept her into the more traditional dance that went with the song that had just begun.

He could not help but notice how light on her feet she was — every step sure and smooth; she felt comfortable in his arms.

It was clear why Petero, and probably most of the other advisors, would push this young lady forward.

She would be an excellent Queen, and the people would surely love her. She had a quiet, calm air about her that would endear her to anyone who met her. That would undoubtedly be an asset to him politically.

I suppose I should at least get to know the young lady — and the others, too — if I am to make an informed decision.

He knew his thinking was correct — as much as he detested the idea — especially if Kayden did not happen to be the one for him.

Not be the one . . . what am I thinking?

I've already chosen her. I cannot imagine . . .

But what if she refuses me?

What if . . .

I suppose I must get to know the others — and at least try to see one of them as a wife — or a partner.

It would not do to have no knowledge of the other girls if that turned out to be the case.

Careful to suppress the sigh that wanted to escape, he resigned himself to small talk.

“Lady Catarine, how are you enjoying the palace?”

“Very well, Your Highness. Our family's estate is quite lovely, but of course it does not compare to the beauty here in the palace.”

Her soft, cultured voice was so completely different from Kayden's — he was tempted to take note of every other difference between the two, but he was determined to give Lady Catarine a chance so he forced himself to push those desires aside.

“You are enjoying the palace then?”

“Yes, Your Highness. My room is quite lovely and I have the most spectacular view of the gardens.”

Her words gave him the perfect opening, though he was certain she had not intended it that way. However, as he had no desire to give her the wrong idea, he let the opening go and instead opted for the safer course she had presented.

“Could I interest you in a walk through the gardens tomorrow?”

Her face lit up at the suggestion. Dvarius knew he had taken the right tack.

“I would enjoy that ever so much, Your Highness. Thank you. I confess . . .” she stopped suddenly and dropped her head a bit.

The slight blush that crept its way up her cheeks intrigued him and curiosity got the better of him.

“You confess . . . what, Milady?”

She looked up at him, but it was still several moments before she answered.

“I have wanted to explore the gardens since I arrived, but was uncertain if I was allowed.”

She lowered her head again before going on.

“I very nearly sneaked into them this very afternoon.”

It was not easy to do, but Dvarius managed to restrain the laughter that was desperate to escape. It would only wound this innocent young woman.

“Lady Catarine, the gardens are open to you any time you wish to explore them.”

“Truly, Your Highness?”

Her eyes were so full of gratefulness and excitement when she looked up at him again; he knew he'd been right to contain his laughter.

“Of course, I would prefer you take a guard or someone else with you for safety, but yes — the gardens are always open to you, Milady.”

“Oh thank you, Your Highness. I will enjoy that very much.”

They danced for several minutes in silence and Dvarius found his thoughts straying to Kayden again.

He was certain she would never have asked permission to visit the gardens. She'd had no difficulty at all in procuring a weapon, and a horse from his stables.

She had then proceeded to go riding — and shooting — in the forest area of the palace grounds; nearly skewering him in the process.

The thought of that experience still brought a smile to his lips; the scream that had come from her, the way she had nearly slipped from her saddle, and then the sound scolding she had delivered . . . once he had managed to keep her from falling from her horse and losing consciousness.

And even that was different from any other woman he had ever known.

With the typical young woman, he would have simply considered her reaction a swoon. With Kayden — he felt no hesitation in the assumption that she would bristle at such a description.

The music changed and took Dvarius' attention from his thoughts of the feisty Kayden.

Do I want to dance with Lady Catarine again or move onto the next young lady?

The decision was not an easy one.

If he danced more than once with Lady Catarine, it might send her the wrong message.

If he moved on to another, he would have to start all over again.

The decision was made for him when he saw Petero escorting a young woman to the dance floor.

Either her dress had been purchased too small for her or she was the type who thought she could only get attention by showcasing her charms.

Either way, she was not the type of young woman he was the least bit interested in making his Queen.

So, in a moment of rebellion, he turned Lady Catarine back to the middle of the floor and led her into the next dance.

While they moved around the floor, they discussed the music and how lovely the weather had been of late. The conversation was comforting . . . not very stimulating but enjoyable all the same.

When that dance ended, Dvarius was almost sorry to move on.

Lady Catarine dropped into a deep curtsy — and he into a formal bow, before Petero appeared at his elbow again to escort him to the next young woman.

“Until tomorrow, Lady Catarine.” Dvarius reminded her as they parted — to which she nodded sweetly and then turned quickly away as a blush made its way across her cheeks.

As Petero led the way to the next young woman, Dvarius thought about Lady Catarine again.

She was obviously from a well-to-do family, as she had clearly received the proper instruction as to how a lady was to conduct herself.

She would make an excellent Queen, and her soothing manner would make her very easy to live with — but there was no spark of interest beyond that on his part . . . at least for now.

He determined to give her more of his time — and attention — before discounting her as an alternative to Kayden.

If he could find some common ground between the two of them, he might discover a young woman who could be a good match personally, as well as a proper choice for Queen.

Kayden watched as Prince Dvarius waltzed with girl . . . after girl . . . after girl.

She was surprised to realize, after several girls had come and gone, that she was jealous, which made no sense at all.

Why should I feel even the slightest bit of envy? I have absolutely no interest in the Prince. She was here for only one thing — to do her job.

At least that was what she'd been telling herself for several days.

No, he clearly was not what she'd been prepped to believe, but she still had a job to do — and part of that job was to do what she was told — without question.

She didn't need to know why. She just needed to know who . . . how . . . when . . . and where.

But she had to admit to herself that she was not convinced it was really true this time.

Yesterday, when that arrow had come within a hair's breadth of hitting the Prince, her heart had stopped. And yes, it had been from fear, but not the fear she'd expected.

When the horse had stepped out of the trees, she had felt fear for what might happen to an innocent person who just happened to get in her way.

When she had realized who was on the horse, it had felt like she was actually there on the horse with him — as if something would happen to her by connection.

But that's ridiculous . . . isn't it?

He is an assignment — nothing more.

It's not my place — has never been my place — to question the details of an assignment.

He means nothing to me . . . does he?

“Might I have this dance, Milady?”

The deep voice interrupted her thoughts and Kayden scolded herself for not paying better attention to what was going on around her.

She turned to the man who had spoken and was surprised to see the Prince's best friend; Marek Montvene.

I've not seen him since he came to the welcoming party with Prince Dvarius.

She knew she should keep her focus on the job at hand, but curiosity got the better of her and she placed her hand in his, following him onto the dance floor.

“Certainly, m'lord.”

Watching her companion carefully, Kayden studied the man she was dancing with. She knew from the files she had read, when preparing for the mission, that he was something of a Lothario.

She couldn't be certain how much of that was common knowledge and how much was just good investigation on the Order's part so she would have to tread carefully.

“I was watching you with Dvarius earlier.” His deep voice got her attention . . . as did his words.

Kayden nodded, but made a point to say nothing in return.

“You make a handsome couple; striking.”

“As you say, sir.”

Ducking her head seemed the safest reaction, so she did; while still watching and waiting for the true reason for this interview — for she was certain now of his intent.

“I wonder if you might be having some difficulty watching the Prince spread himself around quite so much.”

What exactly is he getting at?

“Just so you know . . . he is not any happier about it than you are. That I can promise you.”

The gasp that escaped her lips was certainly a clear giveaway — however, looking up at him, she could see he hadn't really needed the affirmation.

She tried to cover her error as best she could, especially since the realization was something she didn't want to analyze at the moment.

“I'm not certain I know what you are referring to, sir.”

Marek nodded and smiled, but said nothing else, even after the dance was over — when he swept into a bow before leaving her with a quick kiss on the cheek . . . and a wink.

What was all that about? If Marek is such a ladies' man, why is he trying to talk me into a relationship with the Prince?

And why would he care if I'm jealous . . .

Kayden tried to remind herself that she had no rights to any feelings about Prince Dvarius — jealousy or any other.

Her job held no room for emotions. Feelings would make her sloppy — and just might get her killed.

Despite all of that, she found herself searching the room for the Prince — and when she discovered him dancing with the Lady Padua, it took everything within her not to march across the floor and force the two of them apart.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the feeling that was coursing through her veins at this moment was clearly the pangs of envy . . . jealousy . . . and it was directed at whomever the Prince happened to be dancing with at the moment.

One thing was certain; she had some thinking to do.

And I will have to tread very carefully.

She knew exactly what happened to anyone who crossed the Order of the MoonStone. It was never pretty and it almost always ended in death; before . . . or after.

As much as she might dislike her life sometimes, she did not wish this assignment to end in death.

At least . . . not my own.

And certainly not over a whiny prince who couldn't even find a wife without dragging twenty-five girls out like they were mares at auction.

She knew her thoughts were harsh, but it was better this way.

If I distance myself from the man, and remind myself constantly that I am only here for one thing, it will make my job that much easier.

He stood at the entrance to the ballroom, watching as the Prince danced with all his pretty little princesses . . .

His lips twisted into a smirk when he caught sight of the look on that stupid girl's face. She was jealous . . ..

The little twit.

This was what happened when they sent a little girl to do a man's job.

Leave it to her and the job will never get done.

Well, I'll show them.

I will get the job done — without her help — without anyone's help.

And no one will even realize what is going on until it is too late to do anything about it.

And I'll be gone . . .

Maybe I'll even take care of that silly twit — that ridiculous interloper — while I'm at it . . .

Kayden crept through the palace, keeping as quiet as possible. Her intelligence had finally arrived with a reply to her letter.

It had taken all of a minute to decode the missive. When she realized what was in it, she simply could not wait to check it out for herself.

She had tried for the past week to find out where the Prince's quarters were, but the family wing of the palace was ferociously guarded.

She certainly couldn't press for the information without giving herself away. The Prince might not be a fit ruler, but he inspired loyalty in his servants and guards — something which said a lot about the man himself, but she reminded herself again about her mission and pushed the information to the back of her mind.

Fortunately, the missive also included directions to a secret passageway she could use to get past the guards or this would all be for naught.

She made her way to the immense library on the third floor, trying not to attract any attention . . . just in case.

Then she walked into the room and wished she had waited just five minutes more. One of the girls was standing not ten feet from the door.

Kayden wasted precious seconds trying to decide what to do.

Any moment, her presence would be noticed — and then it would be too late.

Just as she started to turn and leave, the young woman turned her way. Kayden recognized her, not only as Lady Catarine, but as the first partner that detestable advisor Petero had led the Prince to on the night of the ball, after pulling him away from her.

Just knowing the Prince had danced with her, enjoyed her company. That he had been spending time with her — romantic time . . . alone — trying to see if they would suit as husband and wife, made Kayden want to hate her.

Unfortunately, the smile that lit up Lady Catarine's sweet face when she saw Kayden, made hate impossible.

Aw man . . .
I can't hate her. I may as well go kick a puppy.

Resigning herself to idle chit-chat, Kayden moved further into the room.

I'll just pretend to be looking for something to read. Then, when she leaves, I'll find the passage and be off.

“You're Kayden, aren't you?”

The soft voice was as much a surprise as the fact that Lady Catarine knew who she was.

Of course, Kayden knew all about Catarine and her family, but then — she'd had the benefit of research provided by the Order.

How did she find out my name?

It was more than a little worrisome.

Idle chit-chat may not do it . . .

I have to find out how she knows me, and how she recognized me.

“I am indeed . . . and you are Lady Catarine.”

Kayden watched for it, but there was no surprise on Catarine’s face, nothing other than a pleasant smile.

“You're very brave.”

Lady Catarine spoke the words as if she'd just told Kayden the sky was blue, and left her wondering what the point of the statement was.

Fortunately she didn't have long to wait.

“I saw you out riding this morning.”

The words took her completely by surprise.

Okay . . . not what I was expecting.

Kayden waited patiently for Lady Catarine to say something else.

“You ride very well. I've never even been on a horse.”

Kayden was surprised to see longing in Lady Catarine's expression.

“Have you never had lessons?”

“Oh no, my parents would never approve. I'm their only child you see. They would be heartbroken if something were to happen to me.”

She said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but Kayden could hear the longing in her words along with a hint of wistfulness.

Clearly, Lady Catarine wanted to learn to ride, but she was terrified to defy her parents.

I suppose that could be considered one of the advantages of not having parents.

Kayden had told herself similar stories many times over the years, but she'd never really believed it. Still, in this particular case, it was an advantage for her.

“I'm not brave enough to push the issue. They would likely give their consent if they knew how important it is to me, but . . .” she threw up her hands in a clear sign of resignation.

Her words were said with such an air of sadness that Kayden could not help but feel a moment of regret for the poor girl.

She found herself wanting to tell Catarine that she should be thankful her parents cared for her . . .

But the words that came out of her mouth were not at all the ones she'd intended to say.

“I could help you — if you'd like. We can be very cautious. Then you won't have to ask permission — and think how excited they will be when you show off your new skills.”

Did I really just say that? Did I just offer to help her?

Why would she offer to help someone who was her competition for the Prince's attention, much less someone whom she would never see again once this assignment was over?

It made no sense to her, but she left the offer dangling there anyway — knowing the chances that Lady Catarine would take her up on it were slim to none.

After several minutes of silence, Kayden started to speak again, thinking she could retract the offer and let Lady Catarine off the hook at the same time.

But the moment she opened her mouth, Lady Catarine did, too.

“Do you really think you could?”

Kayden looked at the young woman in surprise. There was a bright glimmer in her eyes and Kayden knew she could not retract anything now.

“When I say I've never been on a horse before, I should add that I've never even ventured near one,” Catarine went on and Kayden was surprised to feel excitement welling up within her.

I can do this.

“As long as you can handle being near them without showing fear, you'll be just fine.”

As she nodded, Lady Catarine looked a bit hesitant, but there was enough excitement in her expression that Kayden felt certain she would do just fine.

“All right. We'll get started in the morning?”

Kayden left her words in a questioning tone — giving Catarine one more chance to back out.

But she was nodding excitedly.

“Well then, you'll need a riding habit. I don't suppose you have one.”

When Catarine shook her head, Kayden started for the door — her earlier errand completely forgotten. Catarine fell into step beside her and they chatted as they walked toward Kayden's rooms.

“I'm sure I have something that will work. You're a bit taller than me, but I think we're about the same size.”

Looking at Catarine's tiny waist, she amended her words. “Close enough that you should fit . . . anyway.”

Catarine laughed at that and Kayden was amazed to realize that she might have actually found a friend.

Here, of all places . . .

Dvarius stopped short when he saw Kayden and Lady Catarine leaving the library together.

She will never stop surprising me.

Whenever he'd caught sight of her at the ball, she had looked ready to stab someone — most likely every woman he'd danced with other than her. And now she had befriended Lady Catarine; the one woman who was her most likely competition.

A puzzle, indeed.

“Well, Your Highness . . . fancy running into you here.”

Dvarius ground his teeth together, but forced a smile onto his face at the sound of a voice he would be perfectly content to never hear again.

So much for going after Kayden . . . or Catarine.

He knew there would be no getting away from the woman behind him without a scene.

When he'd danced with her at the ball, he had known in two seconds that this woman was not the one for him.

He'd asked his advisors to send her home at once, but they had insisted he wait at least a week before sending anyone away. They were certain it would look better that way.

Plans had been set into motion to have her sent home in the morning, but faced with having to speak to her, he needed to decide if he wanted a scene now — or tomorrow.

Turning to look at the woman, he realized he already knew the answer.

Better to have it done now — even if it means a scene.

“Lady Darotea, might I have a word with you?”

Her look of self-satisfaction revolted him.

“I have something I need to discuss with you about tomorrow.”

He placed a hand on her back, careful to place it where the dress covered her skin and led her into the library, hoping it was empty.

As she moved into the room, Dvarius nodded to a guard, who stepped over to the doors and waited.

“We're not to be disturbed.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

The guard bowed and then looked at the Prince with a curious look — almost one of pity.

Hmm, good to know I'm not the only one who has seen right through her.

He walked into the library shaking his head a little, closing the door a bit behind them; while still leaving plenty of room for the sake of decorum, and took a bracing breath before walking over to where Darotea lounged on a long chaise.

She had made a point to arrange herself so that it would take nothing at all for him to enjoy her . . . ah . . . womanly charms — but he was not even a little tempted.

He sat across from her in a large wing back chair and braced himself, looking her in the eye and suppressing a grin when she ground her teeth together.

“Lady Darotea, I appreciate your willingness to participate in this . . .” he searched for the right word to describe what had been, in reality, nothing more than an experiment. “ . . . special function.”

He could already see that his words had not fooled the woman one bit.

She's quick; I'll give her that.

“I want to thank you for your time . . .”

But she didn't let him finish.

“It's okay, handsome. You don't have to go through the whole song and dance for me. I get it.”

She said the words as she stood slowly and made her way across the room to him. There was a slight smile on her face, but no hint of it in those icy eyes of hers; and any thoughts of second guessing himself evaporated in that moment.

This woman was not someone he would choose to live with for another week, much less the rest of his life.

“I know my way out.” And she sauntered past him, trailing a manicured finger across his shoulder as she went.

Any other time, he would have said something about protocol, but he was so relieved she was leaving with a minimum of fuss, he let it go.

As soon as Darotea left the library, letting the door shut a bit too hard behind her, Dvarius let out a breath of relief.

Well, that was not nearly as difficult as I expected it to be.

Now if I could only find a way to make it clear to Petero and the others that I will not accept someone such as her.

Kayden watched as Catarine turned this way and that in the riding habit.

It might be too fancy for the sort of riding Kayden typically did but the design, and even the coloring, was better suited to Catarine anyway.

“I am amazed at how well you fill that out.”

“I think you fail to realize how slim you truly are, Kayden.

There was a teasing note in Lady Catarine's voice that took Kayden completely by surprise.

Slim . . . me? Who is she kidding? Muscular, well-toned maybe, but not slim.

“So what do you think? Tomorrow morning . . . join me for some introductory exercises?” She asked, as she shook her head a little at Lady Catarine's comment.

“Exercises?”

Kayden laughed heartily at the quizzical expression that had slipped onto Lady Catarine's features.

“Not at all what you are thinking, I promise.”

“Oh, hmm . . .”

“You can't just walk into the stable and vault onto the first horse you come across, you know. You have to prepare yourself.”

“And,” Kayden added after a moment, struggling to suppress the laughter that was demanding to be let out, “you have to make certain you can abide the horses as well.”

“So we are going to begin with getting to know the horses?”

Kayden grinned at the sound of Lady Catarine's voice.

“Something like that. Yes.”

The young woman was clearly terrified but she was doing everything she could to cover it up and exude bravery.

“I believe you might be underestimating yourself as well.”

“Oh . . . I am?”

“Yes. You are much more brave than you realize.”

Kayden chuckled at the stunned expression that met that statement.

“I'm not convinced you're right, but I do want to try.” Lady Catarine's voice was still full of uncertainty, but there was a bit more strength to her proclamation as well.

The sound of a knock on the outer doors of Kayden's rooms, distracted them both.

“Excuse me a moment.” Kayden said as she walked into the main room.

She was met at the door by a young footman with a note folded carefully on a silver tray.

He bowed sharply as she lifted the note and muttered a distracted, “Thank you.”

She scanned the contents absently. The feeling of ice creeping into her veins as she carefully decoded the words in her head, worried her.

“What is it, Kayden?” Lady Catarine walked out of the dressing room just as Kayden read the last word of the note.

“Is everything alright?”

“No, not really. I must return home . . . immediately. I'm afraid our riding exercises will have to wait.”

“I do hope it's nothing serious.”

Kayden shook her head as she struggled to contain her disappointment.

“I don't know. It . . . it doesn't say.”

The ice spread quickly through her entire body as she read over the contents again.

Either I am not moving fast enough to suit Drey . . . or he's found out what happened with the arrow and he's pulling me out.

And if he pulls me out . . .

She forced her attention away from that thought. She did not even want to consider what might await her if that were the case.

No more than two days had passed since he'd seen Kayden, but it felt like a lifetime to Dvarius.

How did I ever think I could choose someone else?

How could I have ever convinced myself I could live without her?

Even spending time with Catarine hadn't helped. It had only served to remind him that he would rather be with Kayden.

He was having a difficult time dealing with the fact that she'd been called away on a family emergency.

He might have felt as if he had had no choice but to let her go . . . but now he was stuck here, waiting for her to return; hoping desperately that she would.

What if she decided she doesn't enjoy palace life?

What if she decided she would not enjoy life here . . . with me?

What if she is unable to return?

He was tempted to send someone to her family home — just to check on her, but he feared that would make him look obsessive and he shuddered to think what she would make of that, knowing her as he did.

So, even though it was making him insane, he was determined to wait it out.

He waited . . . and he prayed, as he tried to decide if he could come up with some way to make her come back — or if he could find an excuse to go to her.

Neither option seemed like the best idea, so he did his best to give Catarine and the other young ladies more of his attention.

At least that would give him a full schedule while Kayden was away.

He also comforted himself with the knowledge that he could spend as much time as possible trying to eliminate other young woman while she was away. It would make things that much easier when the time came for him to officially make his decision.

If he was down to Kayden and one or two others by then, the advisors would at least have less arguments to put forth as to why Kayden was not the ideal choice.

“You are a mess, man.”

The sound of his best friend's voice did not bring the usual smile to Dvarius' face for once. He was much too intent on his brooding.

“Dvarius?” Marek's tone was curious now.

“I am in no mood for your banter today, Marek.”

“I see that. Well then, I'll just go.”

But, at the sound of Marek's boot heels on the marble floor behind him, Dvarius turned away from the window.

Guilt twisted inside him like a fist. No matter how he felt about the situation with Kayden, he had no right to take it out on his best friend; the man who had been there for him since they were children.

“Marek, please forgive me. You are absolutely correct; I'm a mess.”

He held out a hand as his friend turned back to him, and was glad to see the look of anguish vanish and be replaced by Marek's usual self-assured smile.

“Hey, I always knew you were a mess. This thing just brought it out a bit more,” and Marek laughed — lifting a bit of the strain from Dvarius' shoulders.

“This whole experiment has been one hassle after another. How did I ever let myself be talked into this?”

“Oh, come on, man.”

“Come on . . . what?” Dvarius turned to look at his friend again. The look on his face was one of curiosity.

What is he talking about?

“You are not a mess over this experiment. You're upset because she's not here.”

“Who?”

And how did Marek figure out about Kayden already?

Who else knows?

“Relax man. Your secret is safe with me . . . although I think your least favorite advisor has figured it out too. In fact, I'm sure he's thrilled that she's gone right now.”

“How did you figure it out?” He didn't waste his breath trying to argue.

They had been friends for years — if anyone could see right through him, it would be Marek.

“We've been friends for years, Dvarius. I can read you like a book. Every time you're within sight of each other, it's obvious how you both feel.”

“That can't be . . . wait, explain yourself.”

He moved across the room and took hold of Marek's arm, pressing for an answer.

“Just what I said — when you two are together it's like a spontaneous combustion. And don't worry, her feelings are just as obvious as yours.”

The emotion that washed over Dvarius was confusing . . . He wanted to be excited, to shout with joy . . . but he knew he needed to be cautious.

Marek was his friend, and he probably knew Dvarius better than anyone.

But Kayden — she was a puzzle. There was nothing predictable or simple about her.

How can Marek be certain of anything where she's concerned?

I can't.

Or was it possible his best friend saw something in her — because of how Dvarius felt about her?

“Aren't you the one who is always telling me to have faith?”

Marek's voice was very quiet as he rested a hand on Dvarius' shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Where is your faith now? If she's the one for you, everything will work out fine . . . right?”

Dvarius looked back over his shoulder, nodding absently at his friend. He knew Marek was right. He knew he should have faith . . .

He also knew there was nothing he could think of that had ever felt this important to him.

His father's death had been so sudden, so unexpected — there was nothing he could do about it. He had given God his trust in that situation, but no real faith was needed.

Before that, his life had been much less complicated. He'd known he would take the throne someday, but it also was not something that required faith — it was a given.

“Honestly Marek, I'm not sure I have enough faith to cover this one. It's just so big.”

His friend's hand squeezed again, reassuring him that — no matter what — Marek was there for him.

It was a good feeling.

“Then trust me . . . I can certainly recognize a woman in love. Trust your best friend, and leave the rest up to God.”

Dvarius nodded again; more solemnly this time, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything about it. He should trust God with this; he knew that. It was just proving to be much more difficult than he could have expected.

“It may be easy when it's something that's unimportant or if it doesn't really matter how it turns out — but when it's this big, this . . . life-altering, it would be a whole different playing field.”

“That is it precisely.”

Dvarius let out his breath in one long exhale. It felt good to know that someone else understood.

Not that it should have been a surprise to him — if anyone was going to understand precisely what he was going through, it would be his best friend.

Kayden stood by the window in her “family” home, wishing she were anywhere else — but she had been summoned and there had been no other choice. She had to come.

What could possibly be so important, they had to pull me out of the palace now?

She had no answer of course, and nothing she'd come up with on her own made sense.

Her first instinct was to trust that someone would be along to tell her soon, but there was a tiny, nagging voice at the back of her mind that told her it could be something else.

It didn't make sense that they would bring her here if she were in trouble . . . unless that was part of Drey's plans.

Drey was notorious for having his own way of doing things — ways that only made sense to him. If he had wanted her brought here, no one would question it . . . and if she were in trouble, not one person in the organization would even hint at it.

She'd been wandering around the grounds for two days, waiting, bored, and surprisingly — missing the palace.

It was a shock to realize that, not only did she miss Catarine's company, she missed the Prince, too.

She wished there was some way to contact him, but her gut told her that would be a very bad idea, so . . . she waited.

And the waiting was making her more than a little nervous — and edgy. She'd snapped at Jace; the butler who'd been hired specifically for this assignment.

He was a good man, skilled at his job.

She had no idea whether he was with the Order or not because she hadn't asked . . . but he didn't blink when she'd practically taken his head off — just nodded and murmured “just so, Miss,” — before backing slowly out of the room.

After that, she'd gone to the solarium — she'd been hiding out there ever since. Staying in the palace was getting to her.

Or staying away . . .

The restlessness was frustrating at best.

She'd never particularly enjoyed waiting, but she could not remember another time that had filled her with such distaste as this most recent experience.

She nodded her head absently at the young maid who set a gleaming tea service on the large table beside her.

Feeling no desire whatsoever to actually have tea, she asked the young woman for coffee instead and; clearly well-trained, she rushed off to do her mistress's bidding.

I'm getting soft — having servants all around; doing everything for me.

I need to get back to the palace and get this over, so I can go back to my life . . . my normal life.

The quicker she could get back to her normal pace, to remembering that she was pretty much on the same level as her maid and butler — maybe even a level or two below, considering her own humble beginnings — the better.

The sound of boot heels caught her attention and she turned to see Alfreid, her mentor — the only man she had truly ever trusted — walk into the solarium.

It was all she could do not to run to him . . . but Jace was standing just inside the door and she knew she was supposed to keep up pretenses so she waited for him to take his leave.

When he did, she raced across the room and threw herself into Alfreid's waiting arms.

“I fear we will never make a proper lady of you, Kay!” He was smiling as he said it, so she knew he wasn't upset with her at her lack of decorum.

She let out a delighted laugh and felt lighter than she had in weeks.

“What are you doing here? When did you get back into the country? How did it go? Do you have any idea when I can go back in and get this whole thing over with?”

The last was said with a bit of a whine, but Alfreid was the closest thing she had ever had to a father, and she felt comfortable being open with him.

“In a hurry, are we? Let an old man catch his breath for a minute.”

“You are not old Al; never old.”

“You are biased, young Miss,” he grinned as he set her back on her feet, but he kept a companionable arm around her shoulders.

They walked slowly back to where she had been standing, and continued on around the spacious solarium, finally moving through the wide, glass doors to the garden.

She waited for him to continue; to answer her questions, but he just kept walking.

“Hmm . . . nice place you've got here. How could you ever be bored here?”

He glanced at her and let out a bark of a laugh before going on.

“Never mind; forget I said that. You would be bored anywhere you were required to sit . . . or wait — in other words — anywhere you can't be active.”

He laughed again after she stuck her tongue out at him.

And just when she was ready to pounce on him for the answers to her earlier questions, he finally spoke again.

He is always doing that . . . He answers just when I can't take another moment of waiting.

“Actually, I am here to spring you. I got back last night. As soon as they debriefed me, they asked me to come and help you out. Apparently you're doing well and they think we're close to the end. That's fast work — even for you.”

He looked at her as he said it; but there was something odd in his expression. It was a look she had never seen before, which was strange, as she had known Alfreid for seven years.

“As to when you can get on with it, you go back in this afternoon. And I will be going with you.”

She thought about his words; decided not to push regarding the questions he didn't answer.

If she wasn't meant to know how his own op had gone, he wouldn't tell her . . . but she still had one question he had to answer.

“Then why did they pull me out? If I'm getting close, wouldn't taking me out for several days be counter-productive?”

“No. Actually, Drey thought it would help tighten your hold, to allow the Prince to miss your presence for a few days.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“On the contrary, it works more often than you might think. There is an old expression that deals with this very thing. 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder' — it's a tried and true theory.”

“Then why have I never heard of it before now?”

“You're young.”

“Not that young. I have dealt with romantic entanglements before, Al. You remember the dictator in Salri. That was about as romantic as you can get.”

“That was a very different situation, Kay. You had no competition then — and he picked you.”

“I remember. He wasn't even supposed to be there.”

Oh what a disaster that op was.

“Yes, and that was very well handled, I might add.”

His praise was a surprise. She had thought the whole situation was mostly a mess.

“Thank you.” She shrugged off his praise. “I was just doing my job.”

He waved a hand in dismissal.

“I don't need to tell you how skilled you are at your job. Drey would not have chosen you for this otherwise.”

“Of course.”

She laughed off his words, but the nerves in her stomach were turning into enormous knots of tension.

“So, how exactly does this theory of yours work?”

“It's quite simple actually. When someone has difficulty deciding whether or not they want you, go away for a few days.”

He sent her a wink before he continued.

“They either miss you and anticipate your return so much that they never want to let you go again, or they don't miss you — and let you know when you come back . . . that you really could have stayed away.”

She moved away from Alfreid a bit, thinking about what he had just said. Then she turned to look back at him.

Has he taken leave of his senses?

Had they really taken her from the palace just so the Prince could miss her . . .

Aside from that being the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard, it was just silly. The Prince was not going to miss her — especially not when he had twenty-two other girls to keep him company.

After a minute, she began to worry. What if the Prince hadn't missed her?

What if he barely noticed I was gone?

He only knows I was gone because the guard was required to have his permission before they could let me go.

What if he let her know that she could go away again — as soon as she got back?

He had already let go of two other girls because he'd decided they would not suit him as a wife.

What if she was next, because she hadn't been there to catch his eye?

Panic crept in, and it took every bit of training she had to control her breathing.

I have to be very careful.

No one knows me like Alfreid.

I can't afford to make him suspicious, or to let him know just how frightened I've been.

. . . or she would not be returning to the palace.

Alfreid was the one person who would not hesitate to pull her out if he thought she was in over her head.

She had to get back to the palace today. The quicker she returned to the palace, the better.

She took a slow, deep breath before turning to Alfreid again.

“So, when do we leave?”

Dvarius was in his suite, pacing back and forth, when the discreet knock sounded on his door.

Having no patience for protocol today, he walked over and opened the door himself.

Breen, one of the younger messengers, gave him an odd look — but recovered quickly enough and delivered the message he'd brought for the Prince.

“Your Majesty, a car has just come through the main gates . . . with Miss Argos, sir.”

If there was more to the message, it was lost in the wake of Dvarius' exit.

He controlled himself enough to keep from running through the main hall, but it was close.

He rushed past servants who looked up in surprise at his hasty passage, but he gave no one time to speak to him, and if they bowed or curtsied — he didn't notice.

She's back!

That was all that mattered at the moment.

She was back and if he had anything to say about it, she would never go away again.

He reached the great hall as the main doors were opening . . .

Just then, a thought occurred to him — that he should be careful about how much he let on in front of the staff.

He had already made a spectacle in his rush to reach her in time. An emotional reunion would be just the bit of gossip they needed for the rumors to fly.

With that in mind, he worked hard to school his features, just as a second thought occurred to him.

It would do me no good to let on just how much I have missed her — not this girl.

And . . . as perverse as she had been already, she would likely turn and walk right back through the gates.

Should I even greet her here? Should I go back to my rooms and simply see her at dinner? He turned to go but stopped as Lady Catarine walked into the hall.

She did not bother to school her features.

Excitement was evident on her delicate face and she even appeared to be bouncing a little as she moved across the wide hall.

She briefly acknowledged him, before turning her attention to the doors in front of them.

What is it about Kayden that inspires such strong emotions in people?

Here he was — anxious to welcome her back that he'd practically sprinted through the palace.

And Catarine, who was supposed to be her competition, looking positively thrilled to welcome Kayden back — as if she had not seen her in years, rather than days.

Of course Kayden walked through the door at that moment, sending every coherent thought tumbling from his mind.

He forgot that he was supposed to appear cool and calm.

He forgot that Catarine was standing nearby. Thoughts of Kayden pushed everything else from his mind and he moved forward to greet her.

Catarine was quicker though. She rushed forward and embraced Kayden. Immediately both women were talking and laughing. He thought he might have even seen a few tears.

They stood just like that for several minutes, until he was nearly ready to move forward and command them apart.

He must have made some sort of noise in his impatience, because Kayden looked over at him and that becoming blush bloomed across her smooth cheeks.

“Your Majesty.”

She dropped into a curtsy, pulling Catarine along with her; since they were standing arm in arm.

He was surprised at how easily he was able to keep his cool, but it helped that he was more than a little annoyed with the two women in front of him. Didn't they know they were supposed to be competition?

“Your family is well?”

He might have imagined it, but he thought there was something in Kayden's eyes when he said it . . . something sad — almost as if his words hurt her.

“Thank you for asking, Your Majesty. They are well. I apologize for any inconvenience my absence might have caused,” the last was said in that twisted way she had of making him feel as if she were scolding him.

Any other time he might have laughed and teased her about it — whether or not Catarine was present — but he was put out at the lack of reception. Especially after he had rushed all the way down here to greet her so his own answer was more terse than he might have meant it to be.

“Don't worry yourself. I’m sure no one even noticed you were missing.”

And before he could change his mind, he went on.

“I have some things to attend to. Welcome back.” With that, he turned and strode out of the hall.

Kayden stifled the gasp that threatened to break free when the Prince turned and walked away so abruptly. She was right . . .

He hasn't missed me at all.

She tried to ignore the pain that had taken up residence in her chest, but it was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Beside her, Catarine let out a quiet gasp and Kayden looked over at her new friend with concern.

“I don't understand him at all.” She said, her voice even more quiet than normal.

“What do you mean?”

Only now, Kayden realized the Prince had barely even acknowledged the other young woman.

Had his irritation extended to Catarine because of how obviously excited she'd been to see Kayden, or had he decided she would not suit him either?

Would they both be leaving soon?

“The entire time you were gone, he looked as if he had lost his best friend.”

They watched the Prince's back until he turned the corner, and then Catarine turned back to Kayden.

“When you left, he stormed around the palace for hours. And once he stopped pacing, the listlessness set in.” She shook her head a bit as she said it.

“We had several events planned over the last few days, which he attended, but it was clear he was not really there with us.”

She looked over at Kayden with one eyebrow raised.

“I was certain he was missing you this whole time . . . but that . . .” she waved a hand in the direction of the Prince's retreating footsteps — which could still be heard as his boot heels hit the marble floor.

“That little scene did not make sense.”

“I don't think he missed me at all.” Kayden said quietly.

“No. No, I'm sure he did.” Catarine shook her head.

“I don't know what that was all about, but I can assure you, he has missed you.”

She was nodding her head and something about the look in her eyes made Kayden wonder about it.

Clearly Catarine believed her own words — but Kayden could not help thinking of the cold look in the Prince's eyes, just before he had walked away without so much as a glance back at her.

Maybe he had missed her while she was gone, but something had happened between then and now to make him change his mind.

Kayden stepped into the enormous room — as she moved from behind the large bookcase that concealed the entrance to a secret passage.

Methodically she looked around for the Prince or any of his staff. She moved quietly to the doorway between the Prince's bedroom and his office.

A towering stack of files sat in the middle of his desk, with a scattering of papers among the thick folders, but there was no sign of anyone.

After checking the entryway and the sitting room, she felt confident there was no one else in the suite.

Wow! And I thought my suite was huge . . .

Taking note of the layout and entrances, she slowly moved back to the Prince's bedroom.

Taking in the grand room was more intimidating than she'd expected . . . the rooms were not what she had thought she'd find.

The intricately-carved furniture was clearly hand-made. While the fabric hanging at his windows appeared to be silk and the floor was inlaid with gold — like she had observed on much of the palace floors — there was an almost-shocking absence of riches in an area she would have expected it most.

More and more about this man makes absolutely no sense.

As she made her way back to the bookcase, she turned and saw that she was at the foot of the Prince's bed.

Seriously . . . who needs a bed that large?

The image of him slipping between the sheets filled her thoughts and she felt heat crawling up her cheeks at the thought of the Prince — in his bed.

Where did that come from?

The memory of his hand holding hers; his arm holding her tightly against him while they danced, sent tingles dancing over her skin, and the heat in her cheeks burst into full flame.

Oh, why did I do this today?

Her decision to come here made no sense . . . even to her. The only reason she could come up with was a personal desire to see the Prince's room before she left.

After her lack of welcome yesterday, she was certain the Prince would be sending her home at any moment. Something within her had wanted to see where he spent much of his time . . . while she still had the opportunity.

Oh, what am I supposed to do with these ridiculous feelings? I have a mission — and this isn't part of it.

None of this made any sense to her. She was not here to be attracted to the Prince . . .

She was here to kill him.

What am I supposed to do now? If I can't complete my mission — if I fail — what will I do? There's no place on earth I can hide.

Throwing caution to the winds, she walked over to his enormous bed and ran a hand over the thick covering.

She was surprised to find that, although it was soft, it felt more like flannel than silk or satin — which was what she'd expected.

The room had an unexpected personal feel to it. And the lack of luxuries made her wonder if the Prince had chosen everything himself — or left it to others.

She ran a hand down a glossy wood pillar at the corner. It was yet another surprise to see whimsy in the design of his furniture.

Every piece was intricately carved — masculine, but at the same time whimsical. It was almost as if he was trying to surround himself with a fantasy . . . or a dream.

Perhaps his life has not been as . . . carefree . . . as I was led to believe.

The thought did not sit well.

How could she justify her job with this new information? How was she supposed to eliminate the man with so many question marks hanging over the entire situation?

Not that I could get close enough to do that anyway . . .

Now that was a bitter pill to swallow — much more than she would have liked.

It was one thing to have an assignment that proved challenging. It was quite another to be rebuffed before she even had a chance to really begin.

The sound of a door closing had her rushing back to the bookcase — and the hidden passage.

No sooner had the panel closed behind her, than she could hear footsteps on the other side.

Her feet flew along the dark passage as she made her way back to the library quickly and silently.

Dvarius walked into his bedroom and immediately dropped onto his bed.

I do not understand why I let myself get so worked up over her absence. Clearly she only came back because she missed Lady Catarine.

He ground his teeth together as he lay there, thinking about the young woman who had somehow managed to tie him up into neat, little knots since returning to the palace.

And though it wasn't possible, he was certain he could smell the tantalizing scent that floated around her constantly.

I can't find her in the palace, but somehow her scent has found its way in here . . . taunting me.

The tightening of his stomach muscles sent a wave of frustration through him and a deep growl slipped between his lips at the thought of Kayden.

Even now she is most likely flitting about the palace, thinking of new ways to torture me.

He was ready to admit he'd overreacted yesterday when she'd arrived, but he could not find her anywhere in the palace.

How am I to apologize? would a note suffice? Bah; too cowardly!

And Lady Catarine was no help whatsoever.

She had chattered away during their morning walk in the gardens about how thrilled she was to have her friend back.

You would think the two of them were ripped violently apart for years.

With a grunt, Dvarius rolled off the bed and walked to his closet to pull out his exercise clothes. A good workout was precisely what he needed.

There was no better way he could think of to sweat out his frustrations.

Perhaps I can find a way to sweat that red-haired vixen out of my system as well . . .

Kayden watched as Catarine took her first solo walk around the paddock. It had only been a week and she was already doing so well.

Who would have thought that I could be such a good teacher?

Of course, she'd never had the opportunity to teach a skill to anyone, so she couldn't have known what to expect of herself.

What she had discovered excited her. She felt . . . useful, productive, helpful — and she liked it. It was certainly something to hold onto for the future.

Not that many people voluntarily left the Order . . . but if she ever did manage to find a way out, at least she had an idea of what she could do with herself.

Thinking of the Order made her think of the Prince. She had seen him since her return, but he had not sought her out to speak with her and she had not been alone with him — even once.

Catarine had joked with her earlier that she should saddle up and head out to the grounds with her bow — which had made Kayden wish she had never shared that particular story.

Of course, otherwise, it just made her sad.

While she stood there, watching Catarine go through her paces on Sprout — whom Andre had assured her was the most gentle horse in the stables — made her start thinking of that afternoon, and it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

The strain was beginning to get to her — waiting for him to send her home, as he surely would any day.

Since her return, those days felt almost like another lifetime. Even though she was getting along famously with Catarine, not one of the other girls spoke to her now.

It was almost like they all knew she had done something to upset the Prince and they were worried he would snub them by association.

But not Catarine.

No, she could not have been sweeter to Kayden. They had their daily riding lessons and they spent most of the rest of the day sitting in Kayden's or Catarine's rooms, chatting.

It was the only thing that made being here bearable now.

Dvarius paced from his bed to the dressing room door, before moving back to the bed. This waiting was maddening — he had thought waiting to see her for three whole days had been difficult, but to avoid her for an entire week was nearly more than he could handle.

The week might have begun with her avoiding him but it had quickly become clear to him that she had the right idea.

I have to be certain.

He had to know that he was making the right choice. She held so much power over his emotions — he could not afford to be wrong.

If his advisors were correct and he allowed her to have influence over him . . . and her motives were anything other than in the interest of the best for the country — well, it would be disastrous.

So he had avoided her all week, watching as she interacted with Catarine every morning — and only Catarine — because the other ladies would have nothing to do with her for some reason, then sweating out his frustration every afternoon with Marek.

He had actually thought the isolation was Kayden's own doing until Catarine had set him straight.

He still remembered the shock he had felt at how Catarine had spoken to him.

Only yesterday, he had sought out the young woman's company, deliberately ignoring Kayden when he approached the two ladies — because they were rarely found apart anymore.

It was almost as if Catarine had appointed herself Kayden's protector, the way she stuck by her side and the way she had dressed him down as soon as the two of them were alone.

He had asked her to go for a walk, thinking that would be a good idea.

He had spent time with almost every one of the other ladies, but not one of them held his interest the way Kayden or Catarine did, so he'd finally relented and sought her out.

Once they were alone, she had torn into him in a way he never could have anticipated, and he had a feeling he might actually have been bleeding if words could cut a person.

Her sharp tongue had shown itself and her exceptional command of vocabulary was certainly a point in her favor.

She had spoken harshly, but not loudly — and she had gone on for a full five minutes before letting out a little huff, sending him a rather nasty smile and turning on her heel to return to the palace and, he was certain, to Kayden's side.

He had walked through the castle aimlessly for over an hour afterward.

And he'd been pacing most of the morning, trying to puzzle it out.

Clearly he had some serious thinking to do. He had given himself a week, but he was no closer to an answer than he had been when the week started.

What else could he do?

When he reached the bed this time, he dropped to his knees beside it and lay down, almost prostrate on the floor and poured it all out to God.

Whenever he didn't know what to do, Dvarius knew he could bring it to his Lord and the answer would come to him.

Only God knew the future — and He would guide Dvarius to make the right decision.

Dvarius let everything out, including things he had not realized he was bothered by or upset about; things he had truly thought he'd let go of already.

He vented his feelings about his father's death; about his mother's self-imposed incarceration; about the fact that he must be married before he could take the crown; about this whole debacle with his advisors — whom he couldn't replace until he was crowned, and about the confusion with Kayden.

He knew that God had a perfect plan for him . . . for her . . . for all of them. God wanted the best, not just for Dvarius or Kayden, but for the entire country.

Dvarius would soon have the responsibility of making decisions that would affect millions of lives and this terrified him much more than he wanted to admit.

Just how long he lay there, face against the cool marble floor, he had no idea. Even after he felt completely drained, he remained there and began giving thanks to God.

He thanked God that his mother had survived the accident, that — even though she refused to leave her rooms — she would speak to him and she was still functioning . . . somewhat.

He thanked God for bringing Kayden and Catarine into his life.

He thanked God for the time he had already had with both of them, and for the very real possibility that he would be able to choose one of them for his wife soon.

He thanked God for his own life, and the opportunity to lead this country.

He looked forward to a time when he had the chance to change things — to make life better for the people who had been through so much over the past hundred years of war and strife and hunger.

And he thanked God for sending his own son to save them — all of them — and for the healing he felt right at this very moment.

“You are not going to believe what is going on right now.”

Dvarius let out a breath at the sound of his best friend's voice. Marek was the only person who would barge into his room, without so much as the courtesy of a knock.

“If I'm not going to believe it, why are you bothering to tell me about it.” He got to his feet as Marek let out a dark chuckle.

“Ha ha, Var. No seriously, you have to come see this.”

“Come see what?”

“Like I said . . . you won't believe me. You have to see it for yourself.”

As much as Dvarius still felt conflicted about his decision, perhaps he needed a break . . . and a distraction.

“Well, I believe you're not going to leave me alone, until I do what you ask.”

“Then come on.” Marek laughed as he headed out into the hallway.

Dvarius let out a short laugh at his friend's odd sense of humor before following him.

The two of them walked through the palace together; the only sounds heard was their boot heels hitting the marble floor . . .

until they approached the main guest floor.

Marek suddenly stopped at Kayden's suite. The double doors were open wide, and the sound of Lady Catarine's voice was coming from the room. She sounded almost as if she were pleading with someone

Dvarius looked at Marek, but all his friend gave him in response was a slight shake of his head. Dvarius stepped up to the open doors.

Marek was absolutely right. I never would have believed this if I had not seen it for myself.

But why?

Kayden walked back and forth from closet to bed, carrying dress after dress to the enormous trunk that stood open next to her bed.

Catarine sat on the bed watching her. She had argued with Kayden for nearly an hour since she'd come in and found her packing, but Kayden had steadily ignored every word and continued walking back and forth, hanging one item after another in the tall trunk.

“He hasn't sent you home, you know.”

Kayden walked back to the closet without answering.

“You probably won't be allowed to leave without his permission. And I don't think he will give it,” she said, in a sing-song type voice, as Kayden hung the next dress in the standing trunk.

Kayden heard her friend, but paid little attention. She had made up her mind — she was not going to sit here and wait anymore.

She would find a way around Drey. Maybe Alfreid would have a suggestion . . . or she would just deal with his anger.

If she never saw the Prince, she couldn't very well fulfill the mission they'd given her — could she?

He certainly couldn't fault her for trying. He had played his little game and it had backfired. Clearly, the Prince had been happier with her gone. She couldn't imagine why he had not sent her away again yet, but she was determined to leave on her own terms.

She walked back to the closet for another dress.

She was tired of listening to her friend's arguments, but she didn't have the heart to send her away. After all, she would surely never see Catarine again after today.

The least she could do was listen as Catarine tried to convince her to stay — though she knew the young woman was wasting her breath.

“What will I do without you here?” Those words broke Kayden's already bleeding heart.

She sat down on the small bench inside the enormous closet — crushing the dress in her hands.

What will I do without Catarine's company?

How would she go back to the lonely and monotonous existence she'd had before all of this?

How had she never seen her life for what it truly was; sad and lonely — and nothing more than just existing?

Why did I think I detested being here?

How will I ever go back to what I was before?

How could anything ever measure up?

She swiped a hand at the hot tears that made their way down her cheeks.

Not only had her life lost all meaning; she was becoming an emotional mess, too.

“What is going on here?”

The Prince's thunderous voice interrupted her thoughts and she struggled to choke back the sobs that had quietly begun to slip between her lips.

She heard no noise for several seconds; then Catarine spoke and her words sent a flood of warmth through Kayden's battered heart.

“Kayden is packing, Your Highness. You have given her no other choice. She will no longer sit here — waiting for you . . . To. Grow. Up.”

After another pause, Catarine added, “and neither will I.”

A moment later, speaking louder and in the general direction of the closet, she added, “Kayden, if you need me, I'll be in my room . . . packing.”

Kayden heard the door to her rooms shut — hard; all the more surprising when she thought of the heavy, solid, oak door.

For several seconds, all she could hear was the echo of Catarine's heels clicking on the marble floor as she walked away.

Kayden stayed where she was, clutching the dress like a lifeline, while she waited to hear something from the Prince; anything to help her gauge his mood.

But no sound came, not even the sound of footsteps.

She strained to hear anything.

What is he doing out there?

And what should I do?

He'd sounded so angry. Was he angry because she was leaving without permission?

Or had he gone after Catarine . . .

“Kayden?”

His voice was so near, it startled her.

She hadn't heard him move toward the door of the closet — and she had no idea what to do about it.

Should I answer?

Should I tell him to go away?

Or should I just sit here and hope he goes away?

“Kayden, could you please come out? Or can I come in? Are you . . . are you decent?”

There was something odd in his voice — almost as if he were a young boy who had been caught sneaking sweets.

Oh, why does he have to be so confusing?

After what felt like an eternity, and her still not certain what to do about him, he solved the problem for her by poking his head into the closet.

He had a hand hovering over his eyes, prepared to cover them if she was not properly dressed — and the look on his face was so comical, she had to laugh.

“Oh good. You are dressed. I was worried.”

He walked all the way in and leaned against the door frame.

“So . . . are you planning to go somewhere; you and Catarine?”

He waved his hand in the general direction of the door to her rooms and let out a short laugh.

“By now you've figured out that she has taken your side in all of this. She is not very happy with me and she has let me know it. You have a fierce protector in her.”

It was Kayden's turn to laugh then — and the laugh came out almost like an explosion.

After she let it go, she realized that quite a bit of the stress she'd felt, only a moment ago, had drained away. But she was quick to clamp down on it.

She was not about to let him off the hook so easily.

“So where are you going, really . . . especially considering you just got back.”

The resignation in his voice — more than anything else — was what got her attention. He wasn't angry, just surprised.

“Well, I think it's perfectly clear that you don't want me here anymore, so I thought I would just make it easier on everyone and go quietly. I don't particularly fancy an overdone exit.” She said, remembering the second girl he had sent home.

It had happened right before she'd been called away.

They had all been at dinner and the girl had come into the room screaming at a frightening decibel about the injustice of it all.

She had kept saying; over and over, “Do you know who I am . . . who my family is? You'll be sorry!”

The experience might have been humorous if it had not been so sad.

Kayden did not want to go out like that.

She just wanted a quiet, dignified exit . . . on her own terms.

When she looked back at the Prince, Kayden was shocked to see he was just standing there; shock coloring his features.

He stood there for a full minute before he finally spoke again.

“Kayden, the last thing I want is for you to go. I never want you to go anywhere.”

He snapped his mouth shut; as if he'd said something he hadn't meant to.

“Then why . . . I'm sorry, I don't understand.”

She shook her head as she stood.

“Why have you been avoiding me all week?”

That, more than anything else . . . made no sense, so she waited for him to reply — to make sense of it.

He turned away from her, gripping his hair in both hands and then he began pacing.

He went back and forth between the walls of the closet as she watched him.

There was only about four feet to walk back and forth and he had really long legs, so he made a lot of turns.

It was almost comical — the way he kept turning around.

“I've been trying to figure out the answers all week, but I didn't know what to say to you. There are so many things, Kayden. My advisors are all over me to pick anyone but you. This whole experiment is not going at all the way I expected it to.”

He stopped to take a breath before going on.

“The only two ladies here whom I have any interest in are you — and Catarine. Can you understand how difficult that makes things for me?

I have to choose a wife, and I have to pick her from twenty-five women whom I've never met; women I know nothing about . . . who are complete strangers to me.”

He stopped pacing and came to stand in front of her. Then he looked down at her with a look of pleading in his eyes.

“I have no idea what to do about all of this. I want to pick you. I want you to stay and be my Princess, but I'm unsure of so many things. I don't know how you feel about me. I don't know if you are interested in me at all — that way.”

He took both of her hands in his, as he whispered words meant only for her.

“I don't know if I can live without you. I've tried. That is what I spent this week trying to figure out. I have stayed away from you on purpose. It was easier when you were gone, but when you came back . . .”

He stopped, as her eyes filled with tears.

“I knew then that I didn't want to live without you . . . ever.”

His fingers gently brushed away the tear that escaped.

“I had to figure out if it was worth trying to live without you, to make everyone else happy.”

When he stopped again, she looked up at him expectantly.

“It's not,” and then he pulled her into his arms.

And that was when she saw it — just the hint of a shadow, but there was definitely someone else in her room.

It distracted her from what the Prince was whispering into her ear.

She strained to see.

Had Catarine come back or was it one of the servants?

Everything seemed to happen very quickly then.

A man rushed into the closet, screaming as he came near them.

She saw a glint of light and acted instinctively, turning and twisting so that the Prince was safe and she could protect him from the man.

She felt pain; sharp, clear, burning — as the knife was rammed into her back. As it slid in, she heard the Prince shout.

The pain brought a moment of clarity with it. There were others here, in the palace, with the same mission as hers.

Drey planned this.

Was I just a distraction or is this exactly what he thought would happen?

She shook her head slightly, pushing everything aside; pain, sadness, anger, and all thought of herself — as she whirled on her attacker.

Acting quickly, she managed to take him by surprise; slipping past his own defenses and delivering a swift kick to his groin, followed by a short chop to his windpipe; effectively cutting off his air supply.

He dropped like a stone, but she knew she would always remember the look of hatred in those cold eyes of his; a look that made no sense — being that it was directed at her . . . and not the Prince.

She had no more time to wonder about it, because the room filled with guards then, and she heard shouting from all around.

A moment later, she felt the room tilt as she was swept up into someone's arms. Everything seemed fuzzy around the edges and she was having trouble focusing on anything.

After several moments, Dvarius' face floated into her vision and she reached up a hand to him.

He hasn't shaved, was all she could think as she moved her hand over his rough cheek.

He was saying something to her, but his words sounded garbled. She tried to speak to him, but couldn't seem to understand the words coming out of her own mouth.

She felt tired, but she fought against the desire to sleep. She had something important to say and she wanted to make sure he heard her — before she slept.

He keeps looking around at other people . . .

The thoughts floated away from her as she waited; needing to tell him . . . something, yet unable to form the words.

Her eyes were getting heavy; she could barely keep them open.

When he looked back down at her, she concentrated on the words she was trying to say.

It took several tries to get the words out, but they finally came . . .

“I love you.”

And then there was only black.

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

WARNING : SPOILERS AHEAD!

If your book club is reading A Reluctant Assassin and would like to chat or skype with me, please contact me via my website:

http://jcmorrows.com/contact.

1) How strong is your faith? Would you stand firm in your beliefs, even if everyone around you has abandoned theirs?

2) How important is it to you, that the person you marry share the same faith?

3) Is it possible for someone to choose love over training, over fear of death, knowing that they may never fully experience it?

4) Do you think Dvarius should choose a Queen based on his feelings or something more tangible, such as lineage? Or faith?

5) Is there a person from the Bible that Kayden's character reminds you of?

6) Does Dvarius' faith make him stronger? Will it make him a better King?

7) In case you didn't notice, Auralius is what we know now as the U.S.A. — Can you imagine yourself and your life — living in Auralius?

TURN THE PAGE

FOR AN EARLY LOOK AT:

A

Treacherous

Decision

~THE MOONSTONE CHRONICLES ~

BOOK 2

Dvarius sat beside the long, white bed in the family's part of the hospital wing; praying with all his might for Kayden to open her eyes.

The doctors had told him she could wake anytime, so he had waited by her bed throughout the night; waiting, watching, holding her hand and hoping for another chance with her.

Dr. Hama had tried to convince him to leave the hospital wing and get some sleep several times, but Dvarius was determined he would not move until Kayden opened her eyes, until he knew she would be all right.

The events of two days ago played over and over in his mind as he sat there.

He thought about it; wondering if there was anything he could have done differently. No matter how many times he thought about it, he realized there was no real way to know.

Perhaps if I had been paying more attention . . .

No. I'm not going to do that to myself. There was nothing I could have done.

At least, that was what he told himself.

He had not managed to convince himself of it . . . yet.

Those last few minutes kept replaying in his head. One moment they had been embracing, and the next . . . everything had gone crazy.

Only moments before he had been worried she was leaving him — especially since he had walked in to find her packing.

What other conclusion could I have drawn?

And how I managed to convince her to stay, I'll never understand . . .

Then he had been holding her in his arms and the world could not have been a better place — until she had twisted him around.

He still wasn't sure how she had managed that either. He only remembered the blur of movement.

He hadn't seen the man behind her. All he had noticed was how her body jerked in his arms — and then a second later she had whirled around.

The guards had all assumed he'd taken care of the man.

He hadn't bothered to correct anyone yet.

He wanted the opportunity to speak with Kayden first.

I can only hope she has an explanation that makes some sort of sense . . .

But mostly he just hoped she would open her eyes soon and look at him, give him a hard time about something, yell at him, give him that smile of hers that took his breath away.

“Your majesty,” there was a discreet sound of someone clearing of their throat from behind him.

Dvarius heard, but he didn't turn away from Kayden.

He replied tersely, hoping it would give the speaker some clue as to how unwelcome their presence was right this moment.

“Yes?”

A moment later, he heard footsteps but they were not moving toward the door.

“I just wanted to come and introduce myself, Your Majesty, and check on Kayden, of course.”

The man stopped moving when he had reached the foot of the hospital bed.

Dvarius still did not look away from Kayden.

“I am Sir Malcom, Your Majesty — and I am, for all intents and purposes, Kayden's uncle.”

“You're welcome to join me but I'm not leaving her side.”

Dvarius was surprised when he received no argument — just the scrape of chair legs and then sounds of stiff cloth moving into a new position as Alfreid settled in to wait with him.

DON'T MISS THE
BONUS SHORT
AVAILABLE IN E-BOOK ONLY

“A Perilous Assignment is a tension-filled glimpse into the exciting story world of the Order of the MoonStone series.”

~ Marissa Shrock
author of the YA novel, The First Principle

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Given where this journey has taken me. . . Considering everything that has happened in my life over the last year, and especially the last month, I felt like this section needed a bit of an overhaul.

I wrote it months ago, just after I had begun this project; shaping and reshaping the words I wrote nearly three years ago for another project.

But this one deserves a fresh start.

I'm going to do this right. . . and to do this right, I have to start where it all began.

Mom, thank you for listening to that annoying little girl who had the most overactive imagination possible. I can't remember her, but I see the love burning in your eyes every time you talk about her. And thank you for putting up with the woman who is such a disaster, such a mess, and such a needy, pitiful wreck so much of the time.

Sam, my precious gift, my beautiful miracle — thank you for always encouraging me. Thank you for all the hard hugs, for all the times you rest your chin on my shoulder and watch me as I work. Far too soon, I won't have to be sitting for your chin to be on my shoulder. . .

Gwendolyn, my sweet little princess, you have to know that so much of Kayden is you; my delicate little fluttery girl who wouldn't hesitate to knock some idiot who bothers you right in the teeth. I love that about you.

Rachel M, Nadine B, Amy C, Katie G, and Marissa S — My strength, my inspiration, my advisors. . . you are such a blessing to me!

Deana, Rosalie, Alyssa, Renee, Angie, Ashley, Deanna, Bonnie, Karen, Toni, Cynthia, Kara, Nicole, Zac – what would I do without any of you! And I'm certain I'm forgetting someone – please don't be mad. Blame the mommy brain.

And to those who did not believe I could do this — you were absolutely right.

I didn't do this. God did this. I am His conduit. . . nothing more. I was the vessel He used to carry this story to the world and it is His will that will carry it out into the hands of the readers who need it, the readers who will find truth in it, the readers who need a seed planted within.

It's not me. . . it's HIM!

This is His story and I am only a willing participant, a truly blessed individual. I got to be there when this series was born. I was allowed to witness a miracle and it has forever changed me.

I pray that it changes you too.

GOD BLESS YOU!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JC Morrows — writer of Christian YA speculative fiction. . . drinker of coffee and avid reader — is a storyteller in the truest sense of the word.

She finished her first speculative fiction novel purely for the enjoyment of her mother — also known as her biggest fan, but of course she couldn't stop with just one.

JC has been telling stories in one form or another her entire life and once her mother convinced her to write them down. . . well, she couldn't stop.

But she gives God all of the glory for her talent and ability!

“And the LORD answered me, and said, Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it.”

- Habakkuk 2:2 KJV

Do Your Part . . .

If you have a personal blog, please consider featuring JC.

If you enjoyed reading A Reluctant Assassin, please consider rating this book and leaving a review on Amazon or GoodReads.

it only takes a sentence or two . . .

Of course, if you love it and you’re inclined to write more, feel free — and THANK YOU!

ABOUT the publisher

Christian Publishing for HIS GLORY

S&G Publishing offers books with messages that honor Jesus Christ to the world! S&G works with Christian authors to bring you the best in “inspirational” fiction and non-fiction.

S&G is proud to publish a variety of Christian fiction genres:
inspirational romance
young reader
young adult
speculative
historical
suspense

Check out our website at
sgpublish.com

NON-FICTION from S&G Publishing

Junior author series

author encouragement series

Table of Contents

TITLE PAGE

SYNOPSIS

DEDICATION

ENDORSEMENTS

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

PREFACE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY ONE

TWENTY TWO

TWENTY THREE

TWENTY FOUR

TWENTY FIVE

TWENTY SIX

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

SNEAK PEEK

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER