Page 11 of Happily Ever After
When she pulled away, her eyes were wide with a mixture of horror and desire that sent a fresh wave of heat through mybody. Her lips were swollen from my kiss, her carefully styled hair disheveled from my hands. She looked utterly ravished.
And then she ran.
Not literally—Lady Ilyana would never be so common as to run—but her hasty retreat might as well have been a sprint. I watched her go, my fingers touching my lips where hers had been moments before.
“Your Highness?” Some nobleman was trying to engage me in conversation, clearly oblivious to what had just happened. “About the trade agreement with Thornvale—”
“Not now.” I didn’t bother looking at him as I set down my glass. My eyes were fixed on Ilyana’s retreating form, the midnight blue of her gown disappearing up the grand staircase.
The hunger that had consumed me moments ago was rapidly transforming into something else. Concern. Something was wrong.
I made my way through the crowd, nodding mechanically at the bows and curtsies offered in my direction. The palace’s grand ballroom suddenly felt suffocating, its gilded walls and crystal chandeliers too bright, too ornate.
“Anderic.” My mother’s voice stopped me just before I reached the stairs. Queen Felicia stood before me, one perfect eyebrow raised. “What exactly was that display about?”
“Would you believe me if I said I have no idea?” I offered her my most charming smile, the one that usually deflected her suspicions.
She wasn’t buying it. “Find her and sort this out. Quietly.” Her voice was steel wrapped in velvet. “We don’t need another scandal.”
“Yes, Mother.” I bowed slightly and continued my pursuit.
The upper levels of the palace were eerily quiet compared to the revelry below. My footsteps echoed on marble floors as I searched, instinct pulling me toward the shadows where Ilyanamight hide. Years of hunting had taught me to track prey, and right now, all my senses were focused on finding her.
A movement in the darkness caught my eye—two figures slipping down a corridor that led toward the prison section. Even from a distance, I recognized Ilyana’s graceful movements and the distinctive silhouette of her handmaid, Laurel.
What the hell are they doing?
I followed at a distance, my training allowing me to move silently through the darkened hallways. When they paused at an intersection, I pressed myself against the wall, listening.
“We were right to think there would be fewer guards,” Laurel was saying, her voice barely a whisper. “The path we’re taking was barely watched, and it only took a few drugged muffins to knock them out.”
My jaw clenched. They were breaking someone out of the prison. And given the timing, I had a pretty good idea who that someone might be.
Rage burned through me, hot and sharp. Was this why she had kissed me? A distraction while her handmaid drugged my guards?
I ignored that thought rather quickly. There has to be some reason. I told her I trusted her and I did.
I continued following them through the palace, staying far enough back to remain undetected. They descended into the dungeons, moving with the confidence of those who had planned their route meticulously.
Through hidden passageways and narrow corridors they went, finally emerging at a secret exit near Lake Calista. Rain had begun to fall, turning the ground to mud and obscuring visibility—perfect conditions for an escape.
I watched from the shadows as Ilyana handed Gareth a pouch of coins and instructed him to flee the kingdom. My dagger—the one I’d given her for protection—was hiddensomewhere in her dress. I could just make out the outline under the fabric.
Then everything went to hell.
Gareth pulled out a jagged piece of glass and grabbed Laurel, pressing the makeshift weapon against her throat. Even through the rain, I could see the thin line of blood appearing on the maid’s neck.
My body tensed, ready to spring from my hiding place. Ilyana needed me. But before I could move, something in her posture changed. Her spine straightened, her shoulders squared, and even through the downpour, I could see the deadly calm that settled over her features.
“Let her go, Gareth,” she said, her voice carrying clearly despite the storm. “This is between you and my family.”
“I want every one of you dead,” he spat back, pressing the glass harder against Laurel’s throat.
I drew my sword silently, preparing to intervene. But Ilyana wasn’t waiting for rescue.
“I won’t ask twice,” she warned, her hand inching toward her pocket where my dagger was hidden.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the scene in stark white. In that instant, Ilyana lunged forward with a speed and precision that surprised even me. Gareth shoved Laurel aside to meet the attack, his superior weight and strength nearly overwhelming Ilyana as they crashed to the muddy ground.
