The hideout wasn’t far from the palace, an abandoned fisherman’s hut that was worn and weathered from the winds coming in off the sea. Ophelia sat in the middle of the open living space, tied to a rickety chair. Blairford paced the room, checking through the shutters now and then, as if expecting the cavalry to ride up at any moment.
God, Ophelia wished that were true. That she would be saved. But she was bracing for the worst and cataloging her life as she did so.
She watched her captor as he moved to the fire. He seemed so anxious as he warmed his hands by the flames. Perhaps if she could calm her own terror, she might be able to get out of this.
“Mr. Blairford,” she said softly, as gently as she could. “Do you know what I think?”
He glared at her. “What is that, my lady?”
“I think you haven’t thought this through. That you have put yourself in a corner and now you desperately want to go free.” She shifted forward as far as her tight bonds would allow. “And that if you thought you had a way out, you might take it. I can give you that, sir.”
His brow lowered and his eyes went cold as ice. “You think I haven’t planned this? That every move of my life hasn’t been part of this chess match?”
She flinched as his voice went up a level. He didn’t allow her to speak but carried on. “I started working for King Alistair on the first day of his reign. I earned that spot as his lead courtier. I did unspeakable things to gain it.”
“Unspeakable?” she repeated, terror wracking her.
He nodded slightly. “It was worth it, I regret nothing, because that power was limitless. I used it to my full advantage, creating every opportunity to be the only one Alistair trusted. I controlled it all, my lady. I forced wedges between him and anyone who could have turned his gaze from where I wished to focus it.”
Her lips parted. “I…what does that mean?”
“I made sure he broke every bond with his wife. I made certain he followed any worst impulse when it came to his children, especially his eldest. I created doubt in every other advisor, friend or family member, until there was only me and my agenda for the future of this country. I was king, my dear. I was king.”
She caught her breath on a sob at the idea that this man had created such pain for those around him. And now he celebrated it, like it was a game he had won. “You are a monster.”
“No,” he snapped. “I am an opportunist—that is not the same thing. And I knew I could do the same with Grantham when he took the throne. He and his siblings despised me, and yet I was able to convince him that my long years of experience were worth something. He was harder to manage, though. It took far more effort to wedge myself between him and his family. I did it by forcing him to push them away, by making them believe he had harmed them.”
“Which is why you brought Priscilla’s parents to the island,” Ophelia breathed.
He smiled, thin and cruel. “Grantham and Remington came to physical blows over that. A true pleasure to see.”
Tears stung at her eyes. “You bastard.”
“But you became a problem the moment I saw how he looked at you. I thought it would end when we left London, and yet there you were and he toppled at your whorish feet. Even when you intruded where you didn’t belong—”
“The day I was sent to where he was holding his meetings,” she whispered. “But what was the purpose of these manipulations? To overthrow the monarchy?”
He laughed. “God, no. I can control a person, not the people. I don’t want anything less than the power I deserve. I heard him speak to his father about granting more power to those under them. I made sure he suffered for that idea, but I could tell he was still pondering it as he took the throne. I tried to make it unpalatable with the attacks on his family, by demanding he overthrow the movement with violence.”
“To put a wedge between him and those he ruled. To erase any love they had for him.” She shook her head. “But it didn’t work. He outsmarted you and saw you for what you are.”
His jaw clenched. “Yes. He took everything I’d built from me. And so I am going to do the same to him. I will break him now, make him and his family weak to the attacks about to come. When it is over, there will be a new puppet in place. One who will be more than happy to return me to my rightful place.”
She thought of the men she had met that morning that felt like a lifetime ago now. The aristocracy of this country. She had to assume they were each in line for the throne themselves, though far along the line of succession.
“Count Hadley,” she whispered.
Blairford smiled slightly. “You are intelligent, I will give you that. I should have known it would be too much for Grantham to resist. My failing. And unfortunately it shall be your death. Because you can never be queen. I made that mistake once already, allowing Alistair to match with Giabella. She was also too intelligent for her own good.”
He stepped closer and brought out the same gun he had used to force her here earlier. Once again, he leveled it on her and she began to fight her bonds, even though she knew in her heart that it would be useless to do so. He would shoot her. He would kill her.
All to destroy Grantham. And it would work because he loved her. She knew that as surely as she knew her own heart. Tears began to run down her face as she thought of the future he would steal from them. The pain he would cause the man she adored so deeply and completely.
“Now,” he said softly. “You are about to die for a cause. I hope that helps somewhat.”
She forced herself to remain calm even as she stared at the barrel of that horrible gun. Blairford was right about one thing: she was intelligent. She knew that. And if she could just focus, she might be able to figure a way out of this. Or at least drag it out long enough that someone would come to help her.
And then it hit her. “Wait! What if it were a cause I, too, supported?” she asked.
He glared down at her. “You can’t save yourself.”
“I could save you,” she offered. “Save you the trouble you will create and the comfort you will lose.”
“How?” he asked. “More for my own curiosity about how you think you can save yourself.”
She shifted. “Do you think I’ve done all this for nothing?” she asked. “Queen was my goal, Blairford, and I would do anything to get that title. Think of it. What if you had a person on the inside? Someone Grantham trusted deeply, but was working on your agenda as surely as you are?”
He seemed to ponder it a moment, but then shook his head. “No. You love him. I can see it.”
“Perhaps you saw what I wished you to see. What I wished him to see.” She hated herself for that lie. It tasted like poison on her tongue, but it was worth it if it saved her life. “I could fix this without you losing everything.”
He stared at her, reading her, and she prayed he saw what she wished him to see. Slowly, he lowered the gun. “I’m listening.”
Grantham tensed as they rode onto the beach and the cottage rose in the shadowy distance. He would have thought it abandoned but for the faint flicker of firelight coming from between the warped wallboards.
Marabelle’s spies had said Blairford visited this place. That he had been seen coming and going from it in the days since he’d been sacked. If the former courtier was the true culprit in Ophelia’s kidnapping…this could be the place where she was being kept.