Trev tensed. Adler was doing this on purpose, trying to stir up a fight between Albion and New Hope.
His father’s face was near purple with fury. “How dare you accuse us of—”
Adler interrupted. “I’m just stating the facts.”
“You did this! You’re behind the shooting, and I’m going to prove it!”
Trev and Drake stepped forward, flanking the king and holding him back. A fight now would only escalate into a war later. Maybe they were already headed for war.
The thought made Trev sick.
King Carver’s anger only seemed to satisfy Adler more. “I’m not sure how you would even prove something like that. I heard the shooter’s dead, his secrets dead with him. It’s a shame we’ll never know who was really behind it.”
“If I were you, I’d be nervous,” Trev said. “I’d be very nervous because one of these days, we’ll prove that it was you, and when we do, there will be no stopping us from turning every kingdom against you.”
Adler breathed out a laugh. “Empty threats from the next boy king.”
Trev hoped it wasn’t an empty threat. He hoped that he could prove Adler’s guilt one way or another.
“Well, I must be going.” Adler looked at King Bryant. “I hope the princess makes a full recovery.” He turned to exit, stopping briefly to add, “And a word of advice? I would rethink New Hope’s so-called alliance with Albion. You can’t possibly trust your daughter with them now. I know I wouldn’t.” With that final word, King Adler left.
The clock ticked each second on, it’s rhythmic pattern the only sound in Trev’s office. He didn’t know where his father was. King Bryant was upstairs with his wife. The queen of New Hope had been hysterical, crying, and heaving uncontrollably. Her maid and a guard had to practically carry her to her room.
There were so many things running through Trev’s mind. His thoughts bounced to the ceremony, to Seran walking down the aisle, and the words Trev had almost said. He was tormented with guilt even though he thought he’d seen a glimpse of gratitude in Seran’s eyes.
Would things have been different if he hadn’t stopped the ceremony? He thought about Renna, and how glad he was that she hadn’t been in any danger.
Where was she now?
Was she with her mother, consoling her?
Thoughts of Renna sprung up fresh guilt from somewhere inside him. He shouldn’t be thinking about Renna when Seran was fighting for her life. Only a terrible person would do that.
“Your Highness?” Crosby peeked his head into his office. “The doctor is out of surgery and is going to address everyone in the royal sitting room.”
Trev prayed the entire way to the sitting room that Seran would be okay. He promised God that if he would just let Seran be okay, he would marry her and never think about Renna again.
He was the last of the family to arrive. A fire blazed in the fireplace, its glow lighting up the concerned faces on the couch. He took a seat in the open chair across from his father. Nobody spoke. They just stared at the dancing flames before them.
Doctor Von, a middle-aged man with a mustache and half-moon glasses, entered the room with Gaines. His clothes were stained with blood, and his eyes were defeated. Everyone turned to face him. He bowed before the two families nervously as if he preferred to take up as little room as possible around people.
Nobody moved as they listened to Doctor Von. “Princess Seran received a gunshot wound to the chest. When we began operating, we hoped that the bullet missed her vital organs. However, when we opened her up, we discovered the bullet had damaged part of her aorta, causing a lot of internal bleeding. We were able to locate the tear in her aorta and thought that we could stop the bleeding. We spent hours trying to repair the major artery. Her heart was under a lot of stress. Unfortunately, we didn’t fix the damage in time. She lost too much blood and didn’t survive.”
“No, that can’t be right.” King Bryant leaned forward, his expression heavy.
Doctor Von dropped his tired eyes to the floor.
“No. No.” King Bryant shook his head as Queen Mariele melted into him, sobbing. “Surely, she survived.”
The doctor met King Bryant’s tear-filled eyes. “I’m sorry. We did all that we could do.”
The agony on King Bryant’s face dragged up a suffering in Trev he had never experienced in his whole life. The regal pair, the royalty of New Hope, hugged each other in the most intimate and sorrowful way. They clung to each other for support, with fresh tears pouring down their faces. They held each other, rocking back and forth as they wept—their heartache raw and real.
Trev had to look away. It seemed too personal and too private a moment to witness. His cheeks dampened with tears as he listened to their sorrowful wailing.
Seran was dead.
The kind-hearted, intelligent, classy woman he had been engaged to was gone. How could that be? How could Trev not have protected her?
All his training and work as a soldier was for nothing. When it mattered—when Seran’s life was in danger—he hadn’t saved her. None of this would have happened if Pryer hadn’t attempted the assassination, bringing the wrath of Tolsten on Albion.
Trev couldn’t sit still any longer. His anger carried him out of the room.
Drake followed quickly behind him. “Trev? Where are you going?”
“To give Pryer a thorough beating.” He thought Drake would talk him out of it. Instead, he followed him to the commander’s room.
Trev threw open the door, startling Pryer; he almost fell out of his chair with surprise.
“Are you happy with yourself? Is this what you wanted?” Trev grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him up against the wall. Drake was at his side, ready to intervene if Trev went too far. But how far was too far with scum like Fenton Pryer? Trev didn’t know.
Pryer grabbed at Trev’s wrists in self-defense. “What’s going on?”
“She’s dead.” Trev slammed his back against the wall again. “And you’re the one who killed her.”
“I told you, I didn’t do anything!” Pryer fought back.
“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t continued with the assassination!” Trev’s hands moved from Pryer’s shirt collar to his neck, his fingers wrapping around his skin.
“I swear!” Pryer coughed between strangled breaths.
Drake’s strong hands pulled Trev away, separating him from Pryer and his neck. He gasped for air, leaning over, coughing.
“There’s no one else who could have done it. Seran’s blood is on your hands.”
“Maxwell,” Pryer said between coughs.
“What?”
“Maxwell and Joniss Doman. I told them.” Pryer straightened his body, leaning against the wall for support. “I told them that King Carver still wanted the assassination. Maxwell asked if he would go through with it without the high ruler’s approval, and I said that Carver wanted to, but had changed his mind. Joniss asked how he would have carried it out. I told Joniss about the plan. I shouldn’t have, but at the time, it seemed harmless because we had called the whole thing off.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Drake asked.