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"We have done such things in the past—not that our past is something to emulate. But Russia is hard at work destroying American democracy. They've come after ours as well. I don't think we can sit on our throne and wait for it all to sort itself out. Mis and disinformation—lies are easy to spread. Easy to believe." She pauses. "They always have been."

"What can we do about that?"

Victoria folds the plastic baggie and slips it back into her pocket. She slides off her sunglasses and meets my gaze. There are fine lines radiating from her eyes and a furrow in her brow. No botox here—no hiding age. But she is hiding power. I thought she was meek, a tool for the Crown. I was wrong.

"I want a new world order. And so does Rebecca Levi."

My heart crawls into my throat. "What does that mean?" And should we be talking about this in front of the crows? Wow, that's not a thought I ever imagined would cross my mind. Then again, I never knew I'd want to murder a man—that I'd crave it. Yet, here I am. In a walled garden at a royal castle, surrounded by a queen's herb garden, lusting for an unattainable freedom and a man's blood on my hands, worried that crows will spill my secrets.

She smiles. "It means we stop anyone who is in our way. No matter the cost."

Oh fuck. The princess might be as bloodthirsty as me.

ChapterThirty-One

Ash standson the far side of my bed, the gold dress I wore last night in his hands, my suitcase open in front of him. "We need to go. Now."

Weak late afternoon sun pours in the large windows, casting the space in light gray. A fire crackles in the hearth. He pushes the dress into the bag roughly.

"Alesana is getting the car." His eyes look past me. "Close the door."

"What’s going on?" I ask, glancing into the hall as paranoia crawls up my spine. There is no one there—Hamish intercepted Victoria and me as we came in and she went to take a call.

"I will explain everything once we are on the way. Get your toiletries." I don't move. His jaw tightens. This poor man's teeth. "Now." It's not a bark but it's notnota bark.

"Ash—"

He cuts me off. "Angela. Please. Just listen."

Fine. I start for the bathroom. Less than ten minutes later we are walking down the wide stairs. "I can't just leave without saying goodbye," I argue.

"They will understand."

Hamish appears at the bottom of the steps like an apparition. I stop short and let out a yelp of surprise that echoes in the large space. "Ms. Daniels, are you leaving us so soon?"

"We have an emergency situation," Ash says. He's on the step behind me, looming. He shifts, pressuring me to continue down. I do.

"Please tell Victo—her royal highness. All the royal highnesses." Wow, this is coming out super chill and awesome. "That I had to go. I will call them…"

Hamish's expression does not change. It's as set as the statues behind him. "Allow me to escort you to your vehicle."

"Oh, sure." I smile. It feels wooden. Get it together. Pick a part and play it. Pulling in a breath, I search for who I want to be in this moment. This moment of fleeing.

Martin's prone form and the blood lust I felt in that ambulance rises up, banishing the fear, and wrapping me in a cloak of craving. My steps become surer as I reach the bottom of the stairs. Hamish turns toward the exit, his hard-soled shoes echoing in the large foyer.

I follow him, the veiled female figures in their alcoves seeming to watch me go—watch me stalk. If I wanted to, I could kill Hamish. Wrap my forearm across his neck and grip my opposite arm, I could make him sleep. Then keep holding until his brain died and heart stopped beating. If I wanted to…

Alesana drives.Ash sits in the back with me. “What’s going on?” I ask as we pull down the drive in the SUV we arrived in.

“The queen is dead,” Ash answers.

I suck in a sharp breath. “Ben said she was doing…” Well, of course he did. Why would he tell me, a practical stranger, that Victoria’s grandmother was on death’s door?

Ash’s body is angled toward me, his focus on my face, gaze tracing from my eyes to my parted lips. “I don’t have many details, just that she passed.”

“That must be the call Victoria received when we came back.” I lean back into the leather seat. Poor Victoria.

“Probably.”