Page 39 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)
Chapter Twenty-Two
Elliot
There’s a chance I’ve spent too much time around American politics because the debate has been less name-calling and arguing than I expected and more polite conversation and complimenting.
In the hour they have been talking on the large stage that was set up in Skalridge’s event center, Freya and Grimstad have praised each other’s responses more times than I can count, building off the other’s answers as they bring their own thoughts to the issues presented by the moderator.
It’s been nice, seeing two influential political figures treat each other with such a high level of respect when they would have every right to be defensive and fight for their side.
It has also been one of the worst hours of my life, for no reason other than watching Freya mesh so well with Markham Grimstad is making it abundantly clear why he thought it would be a good idea to propose and why Freya didn’t immediately shut him down.
These two would make an incredible pair and be even more incredible rulers.
“She’s killing it,” Sander says, his voice low because the audience has been so quiet and attentive that I’m pretty sure someone would hear him if he spoke any louder. “This is where she really shines. When she gets a chance to talk about what she knows and what she has planned, she’s brilliant.”
“She’s brilliant all the time,” I mutter.
The problem is that Grimstad is equally brilliant, and the more he talks, the more Freya warms up to him.
I’ve got an uncomfortable pressure building behind my sternum, and if there weren’t a few hundred people staring down the princess and posing (admittedly unlikely) threats, I would be anywhere but here.
Feeling something for my charge is bad enough, but being jealous of the guy who might actually be perfect for her? I’ve hit a new low.
“You alright, mate?” Sander asks, leaning closer.
I have no idea what my expression is doing, but it doesn’t surprise me that he’s asking. Nothing about this is alright, and there’s only so much I can do to keep my feelings to myself.
We didn’t talk after leaving the duke’s estate, but I heard enough of Freya’s conversation with her friends to get an idea about where her thoughts were.
She’s thinking about kids with Grimstad, which means she’s considering his proposal more than I thought.
I knew she couldn’t shut him down without deliberation, but I thought…
I don’t know what I thought. Candoran law doesn’t want me to have her.
The queen doesn’t want me to have her. Even her friends warned me to stay away.
All throughout the night, I kept telling myself that it’s better to let her go, but every reason I found to quell my interest just made it grow so much more until I could no longer deny how I feel.
First time I fall for someone, and she’s the one person I can’t have.
“You’re unnaturally tense,” Sander says and bumps his arm into mine.
“Stop distracting me,” I grunt and shift my eyes to the other side of the stage, where Hex and Rothesby have taken the other two posts.
The rest of the guards are patrolling the audience or outside, along with most of the Skalridge police force who searched everyone as they came in.
I’ve done everything I can to ensure nothing goes wrong with this debate, and since it’s the only one happening and is being broadcast across the country, I don’t think anyone—Fenwick included—would be stupid enough to try to disrupt things unless they have a death wish.
“We have one more question for the two of you before we adjourn for the day,” the moderator says, and the energy of the crowd shifts from enthralled to restless, like all of the people here hadn’t realized how long they were sitting quiet and still until someone pointed out the impending conclusion.
I shift my weight, scanning the audience for any signs of danger.
I don’t know why. Nothing has happened so far, and clearly my ideas about what might happen in this job are radical compared to the average Candoran crime rate.
Fenwick shouldn’t be able to get in if the guards and the police are doing their jobs right, and the rest of the audience seem to be fans of both Grimstad and Freya.
“In ten years,” the moderator says, “what will Candora look like under your leadership? To go with that, how will the average Candoran’s life be better?”
“Would you like to take this one first, Your Highness?” Grimstad says, gesturing toward her.
She smiles sweetly. “No, I think you’ve earned the right to be heard.”
Look at her, sounding more and more like an Average Joe. Polite as ever, though.
Movement across the stage pulls my gaze to Hex, whose eyes are fixed on something in the audience as his hand works its way toward the gun he carries. I follow his hard gaze, but it’s hard to tell where he’s looking. I wish we had earpieces.
“There,” Sander says, locking his eyes on someone near the center of the auditorium. He must have also seen his twin’s attention shift.
Using both their sightlines, I find what they’re staring at: Fenwick.
Resisting the urge to pull my gun, I tune out Grimstad’s response and put my whole focus into Fenwick.
He’s hiding his eyes beneath a hat, but that shouldn’t have been enough to get him into the arena.
He’s sitting so still that I have to assume he’s going to try something.
Everyone else is nodding along to whatever Grimstad is saying or looking at their phones, but Fenwick hasn’t moved an inch.
“What should we do?” Sander asks under his breath. “I can—”
“No.” Though I speak to Sander, I look straight at Hex and only speak again when he looks at me, since he reads lips almost as well as I do. “The two of you will be the first ones out if something happens. You’re not putting yourselves in danger.”
Hex frowns and shakes his head.
I glare at him. “That’s an order, Your Highness. As a prince of Candora, your life is valuable. Understand?”
Sander grunts, which had better be an agreement, and though Hex looks like he wants to keep arguing, he nudges Rothesby and tells him that Fenwick is in the audience.
That’s about all we can do from up here, and I’m kicking myself again for not thinking ahead when it comes to communicating with the rest of the team.
I have no way to alert anyone else without Fenwick realizing we know he’s here, and that could trigger him to act.
How did he get in?
I curse under my breath as the audience applauds. Freya starts her closing arguments as soon as they quiet down, and that’s when Fenwick moves.
Not a lot. Just a shift of his shoulders, but with how still he’s been over the last couple of minutes, that bit of movement is enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through me.
My hand itches to grab my gun and be ready for whatever comes, but I’m currently on a stage in front of the entire country.
I can’t go around flashing a weapon when there’s no visible threat.
I hate this. I hate that I can’t do anything but stand here and hope I’m being paranoid again. Hope Fenwick is a loyal supporter of Grimstad and here for the debate like everyone else.
But that would be too convenient.
“El,” Sander says at the same time the audience starts clapping for Freya. Grimstad stands, holding out his hand to help Freya from her chair.
Fenwick stands as well, a hand reaching into his jacket as his glare comes into view with his lifted chin.
“Everyone down!” I dart forward but not fast enough.
The gunshot echoes in the arena, and Freya and Grimstad topple over Freya’s seat.
“No!” My shout is drowned out by screams in the crowd, and I leap over Grimstad’s abandoned chair and find both candidates on the floor.
My heart skips a few beats while I search for injuries.
She’s unharmed.
Grimstad isn’t.
“Markham!” Freya cries, scrambling over to him and grabbing his bleeding arm. “Why did you jump in front of me?”
“Get her out of here, Reid,” he growls, ignoring her completely and keeping his eyes on me. “Go!”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Tucking my arm around Freya’s back, I lift her up and make a break for the wing of the stage, doing my best to keep my body between her and the screaming crowd.
The second gunshot is a whole lot louder than the first.