Page 53 of Lone Spy

I wait a beat, turning around his words inside my head, trying to build them into a message I can understand. "So you want me to go to a party at a castle."

Temperance nods. Rebecca watches me.

"And what do you want me to do there?”

Temperance leans forward, and I get the sense that he's about to push me off the landmine, forcing its explosion. "Listen, learn. And, if the opportunity presents itself, give this to the princess.” He reaches inside his suit jacket and pulls out the compass, it’s bronze cover catching the low light. “She’ll know what to do with it.” Temperance doesn’t offer me the compass, he just lets it sit in his palm, a silent screaming participant in our conversation.

"Are they even that powerful?" I ask. "I mean, the royal family of England. Aren’t they just figureheads? How involved are they in…"

"The royal family," Temperance says, "are briefed on intelligence matters and are very attached to the stability of their nation and its allies."

"Grand is erratic and easy to manipulate," Rebecca says. "He wants to be a dictator. Democracy around the globe would be threatened if the United States fell to authoritarianism. The princess is particularly concerned about the impact of such a regime on women’s rights.”

"Reginald Grand is a very real threat to the security of the United States and the world at large,” Temperance says, his voice a low rasp. He believes what he's saying. Or he's doing one hell of a job acting.

"I don't know that I can help," I say, trying to wriggle out of the request.

"We just want you to speak with the princess, give her the compass,” Rebecca says. There is a wrinkle of concern between her brows, and etched around her eyes. "You're already in danger. If Grand dismantles our democracy, you’re likely to end up on the list of people he won’t let survive."

"Think about that ambulance ride the other night," Temperance says.

"You said they were not trying to kill me, just scare me."

"This time," Temperance says.

ChapterTwenty-Two

The sheets aresoft and the room dark, but I can't sleep. My brain is spinning, pulling up images from the past and throwing them at the walls—my grandmother's voice snarls at me. Jack Axelrod's hands roam. Vladimir's brain splatters. The urge I felt to murder Martin wells up, aching and dark. The wordyetbangs a steady beat underneath everything.

Dawn presses against the closed curtains. Temperance brought me back and let me in the garden gate but didn't walk me to my room. I navigated through the dark gardens alone, the marble busts looming at me. The compass a heavy weight in my purse.

Fear and numbness warred inside me. Chris was at my door and didn't ask any questions, I offered no answers. Exhaustion dragged me to bed.

I put the compass in the hotel safe, washed my face, brushed my teeth, changed into my pajamas and climbed into the elegant bed where Temperance greeted me hours ago. Once my head hit the pillow, thoughts and images exploded, filling my body with the frenetic energy that is the love child of anxiety and a bone-deep need for sleep.

After an indeterminate amount of time, I push off the blankets. Slipping on a light cotton robe with the hotel's logo on the breast, I pad barefoot out of the bedroom into the sitting room, headed for the kitchen.

The giant flower bouquet Omar sent blocks most of the couch but a dark figure behind the blooms catches in my peripheral vision. I let out a choked scream, leaping away from it, and smashing into the wall, knocking a gilded frame painting hard with my shoulder.

"It's me." Ash's voice is muted by the whooshing in my ears. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" I rub at my shoulder. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

"Didn't want to disturb you."

"Mission not accomplished." I push off the wall, resettling my robe and pushing my hair behind my ears. Adrenaline churns my stomach.

Earlier when I found Temperance in my bedroom, I expected him. Thanks to Ash. But who will warn me about this man’s agenda?

Ash stands. The pale beginnings of dawn creeping through the window cast a dull glow over his face—making it paler, grayer than normal. He's wearing all black, the better to hide in the dark like a nightmare.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"I couldn't sleep." I wrap my arms around myself, the adrenaline fading and leaving me chilled and shaky. "I was going to make myself a cup of tea…" I shrug. "Or something. I don't know. I just couldn't stay in bed anymore."

He holds up an arm, gesturing toward the kitchen.Go ahead, I will follow. I turn and continue through the sitting room and into the narrow kitchen, flicking on the light as I enter the space.

It's a galley space behind the living room, designed for staff to fill drink orders for guests. The cabinets are dark wood, the counters smooth stone the color of the beach in Malibu. Homesickness hits me like a wave, crashing over me and sucking my mind away for a dragging moment. I miss Archie so much it feels like a part of my heart is literally missing.

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