Page 31 of Risky Match (Royal Spies #1)

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B lake makes the shot of the match.

I jump to my feet, cheering as loudly as anyone in the crowd. He threw his whole body into it, losing his balance but winning the point. It was a spectacular shot—almost superhuman.

But he’s still on the ground. Why doesn’t he get up?

“No!” I clasp my hands over my mouth. He’s writhing in pain.

I stare as people rush to his aid. He drank a lot of liquid between games. It could be muscle cramps from dehydration. Or he may have sprained an ankle.

The crowd is eerily quiet. All eyes are on Blake. He’s not moving.

I glance toward the Royal Box where the princes were. Their seats are empty.

Minutes pass. Medics surround Blake. They’re not tending to a twisted ankle or helping him to his feet. My concern soars.

Helplessness washes over me. I want to go to him, but I’m not allowed on the court. I could go to the tunnel waiting area. My player’s ID card will get me that far. He’ll have to pass through there when he leaves.

Picking up my bag, I turn to leave, but a collective gasp ripples through the crowd. My head swings back to the court where everyone is pointing. Medics are wheeling out a gurney.

I’ve never seen an injury require this level of attention at a tennis match. He must have hit his head or broken a bone. I have to go now.

Moving to the aisle, Erin joins me. She’s been watching from a standing area a few rows behind where I was sitting.

She says, “This woman has a message for you.”

I turn to the woman wearing an official Wimbledon staff shirt. She says, “Your Royal Highness, please follow me. Arrangements have been made for you to travel to the hospital where they are taking Mr. Knight.”

Erin clears the way for us to follow. We’re led to a private exit where a royal vehicle is waiting.

“Please take a seat inside with his Royal Highness,” Adrian’s driver says, motioning for Erin and me to join Prince Adrian in the back.

As soon as the door shuts, I ask, “What’s going on? Do you know what happened to Blake? Did he break something?”

My stomach churns. My hands won’t stop shaking. He has to be okay.

“They haven’t said yet. But he’s on the way to hospital. I assumed you would want to be there. We’ve arranged for a private waiting room.”

“Thank you. That’s exactly where I need to be. I couldn’t tell what happened. He went for the tough shot and fell, but it didn’t look like he hit his head. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m sure he will be fine. They’re probably taking him to hospital as a precaution. The local hospitals are excellent.”

“That’s reassuring. But I’m not family. They won’t tell me anything about his condition.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that. I’m known to have a little influence in this country,” he grins, lightening the tension.

“Touché.”

How did I not remember he’d just pull his prince card?

Thanks to Adrian, we enter through a private door and are led to a small room, avoiding the press at the main entrance. It’s bleak and sterile with a white table, four plastic chairs, and a wall clock with giant red numbers.

We wait. And wait.

It’s been an hour and four minutes. I’ve watched every single second tick by. So far, no news.

Josh, Noah, and Natalie arrived half an hour ago but are stuck in the main waiting room. For security reasons, Erin and Adrian’s bodyguard insisted we wait here. I wanted Blake’s team to join us, but there’s not enough space.

Unfortunately, we can’t discuss our mission because there are cameras everywhere—even in this tiny waiting room. The last thing we need is a nosy security guard reading our lips and selling the story to the tabloids.

So, we sit in silence, sipping tea Erin managed to find while Adrian’s guard stands watch.

Another forty-five minutes pass before a sharp knock startles me.

Adrian says, “Come in.”

The door opens with authority, and an older man, wearing an expensive suit under a white coat, steps in.

“Your Royal Highnesses, I’m Dr. Shepard. I’ve been asked to provide you with an update on Blake Knight’s condition.”

“Thank you, Dr. Shepard. Please have a seat.”

Adrian and I sit across from him.

“Is Blake okay? What happened?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“Mr. Knight’s condition is serious. But he’s strong and in excellent physical condition. That will help his chances.”

“What’s wrong with him? Did he tear a muscle? Break ribs? What do you mean by ‘help his chances’?” I ask. My voice trembles as my panic skyrockets.

“No. It wasn’t a physical injury of that nature. We believe he was poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Adrian asks.

“You mean he had an allergic reaction to something?” I suggest, unwilling to believe the worst.

“No. I mean he was poisoned. It could have been accidental or on purpose.”

My jaw drops in shock and horror. How could that have happened? My thoughts race through possibilities. Could it be related to our investigation?

“What was the poison?” Adrian asks in an unexpectedly calm tone.

“We need to verify it with further tests, but we believe the poison came from an oleander plant.”

“I didn’t know that oleanders are poisonous,” I manage to utter as my body shakes and my voice quivers.

“They are. All parts of an oleander plant are extremely poisonous, even the flowers and roots. In fact, a small dose can be fatal.”

“Are you saying Blake will die?” I ask as a tear escapes and trails down my cheek. I can’t bear the thought of losing him.

“We hope not. If it was a mild exposure, he will pull through. We need to watch him closely overnight.”

“When will you know if he’s going to be okay?” Adrian asks.

“This is a strange poison. He’ll either be fine in one to three days or ...not.”

I gulp, my worst fears realized. He could die.

“Can we see him?” I ask.

“Not until tomorrow. But you can help. We need to find out how he was exposed to the poison. We don’t want anyone else to accidentally ingest it. And if he recovers, we can’t risk another exposure. It could be fatal.”

“There’s an oleander bush in the backyard of the house where we’re staying. Could that be it? Would touching a leaf or smelling a flower have been enough to poison him?” I ask.

“That’s possible, but he may have ingested it.”

“How could that have happened?” Adrian asks.

“Ask the people who were around him what they saw him eat or drink. Then when he feels up to answering questions, we may learn more.”

“Based on when he collapsed, can you estimate when he would have ingested the poison? That might help us narrow the possible sources,” I say.

“Usually, I would say two to four hours before he fell ill. But given his level of exertion, I suspect the poison acted faster than that. My best guess is it was in something he ate or drank one to two hours before he passed out.”

“That’s helpful. We’ll make sure to have this checked out quickly,” Adrian says.

“Very well. I need to get back to my patients,” Dr. Shepard says as he stands.

“We’ll leave contact information. Please let us know if there is any change in Blake’s condition,” Adrian says.

“We will,” Dr. Shepard promises as he leaves.

“Let’s go,” Adrian says.

I nod, knowing we need to find somewhere to talk away from the cameras.

As we walk to the waiting car, my thoughts swirl. Was this a freak accident or a targeted attack? Is there trouble between thieves? Was there a double-cross?

And why did I let myself fall for the target? Should I come clean to Adrian or pretend nothing happened between Blake and me? If they find out, will they kick me out of the Convert Royals? If I’d trusted the evidence pointing to Blake, I wouldn’t be in this mess.

Worse—if I’d stayed focused on the mission, I might have seen the threat. Maybe, I could have protected him. If he dies, I’ll never forgive myself. He doesn’t deserve that fate, even if he’s guilty of smuggling.

As we reach the car, Adrian says, “I’ve arranged for our guards to follow in a separate vehicle so we can talk.”

“Okay,” I say, sliding into the back of the car.

He joins me, and the car pulls away.

“Do you know if this was an accident or intentional?” I ask.

“We received intel that there was a threat to Blake, so we believe it was intentional.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me? What the bloody hell?”

“Calm down. We weren’t sure the threat was credible.”

“What if I’d been poisoned too? How would you explain to my parents that you didn’t think it was important to share such critical information with me.”

“We had someone watching him. What’s important is that we determine when he was poisoned.”

“We’ll revisit your strategy when this mission ends. But based on the doctor’s estimate of the timing, Blake must have ingested the poison during his pre-match warm up.”

“Agreed.”

“Josh is the one who would know what Blake consumed before his match.”

“Yes, but Josh could be the one who poisoned Blake, so we need to be careful. Whoever did this to Blake expected him to die. They won’t be happy if he survives and may make another attempt on his life.”

“True. We have to tell Erin and Fausto what’s going on. We need their help to protect Blake.”

“I agree. I’ll check with Deputy Harrington for clearance to read them in.”

“Thanks. It doesn’t make sense having trained guards and not using them when someone’s life is in danger.”

“You don’t have to convince me.”

“What’s next?”

“It depends on how Blake is doing tomorrow.”

What he really means is it depends on whether Blake lives.