Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,28

to shape the words more than speak them, groaned at the pain in her stomach. It was approaching intolerable.

“That is not good enough.” The attacker added more pressure with their knee.

“I said okay!” Little stars winked in and out at the edge of Chey's vision. She felt dizzy, nauseated.

The hands pinning the blindfold drew away with abrupt swiftness. Before Chey could sit up, take a swing or call out, the attacker struck with the back of their hand. A violent blow with enough force to knock her into the pillows. Stunned, temple throbbing, she saw the attacker's retreat as a flicker of shadow through a haze like dream. The snick of the closing door was the only sound the person made upon their exit.

It took Chey a full sixty seconds to blink away the fuzz and the nausea. Staggering out of bed, she propped herself up against the nightstand and concentrated on getting her breath back. Furious that someone had the audacity to attack her in her own bedroom, she shuffled to the door and threw it open. She wouldn't let them get away with this. Sticking her head out, she looked left and right along the broad, long hallway.

Nothing.

No shadow moving away.

It took Chey a second to realize why it was so hard to see; someone had doused all the lights along the walls. The only available illumination was what fell in the tall window panes at the far end of the hallway, which didn't reach all the way to her bedroom. Easing back, Chey closed her door. Leaning against it, she fought off another wave of dizziness and engaged the locks. That was something she hadn't done in her time here yet, but she would do so from now on.

Leaving the door, she made her way to the bathroom and flipped on the light. The long, gilt framed mirror above the clamshell sink reflected newly pale skin, a blush of color on her temple and eyes that looked haunted, even to Chey. Touching fingertips to what would become a bruise by morning, she winced and picked up the washcloth she'd used earlier to scrub her face. Rinsing it under the water, she dabbed it over the abrasion and braced the other hand against the edge of the counter.

She wasn't sure whether to get on her phone and call Allar or Urmas right now, or wait until morning. This couldn't go unreported. She wouldn't allow the intruder to threaten her, keep her from doing what she wanted to do in the off hours. If she wanted to walk the halls at night, taking pictures, or speak to Mattias, then she would.

For all her belligerence and rebellion, however, a little voice niggled in the back of her head. What if they follow through and plant false evidence in your room? The Royals will kick you out, possibly even have you arrested. At the very least, they'll ship you home and demand their money back. Money you've already spent. Some of it, anyway. Several thousand dollars that she couldn't replace.

And in no way shape or form did she want to end up in a foreign jail.

She also didn't want to end up dead.

Somehow, some way, her presence here was a threat to someone else. It threw new light on the shooting incident and for the first time, Chey felt certain it had been aimed toward her. A warning, perhaps, to go with the one she'd received tonight. It would explain the absence of anyone being apprehended for the shooting after a thorough search. Anyone in the castle from the guards to the staff to the drivers to the military to security could have shot that gun and not been caught. All they had to do was sink back into their position and go unnoticed as the search began.

Viia and Natalia both, the people with the most motive in Chey's mind, had the power and money to make it happen. They could have hired anyone and paid handsomely for the shooter to keep their mouth shut. Setting the washcloth down, Chey turned out the light and made her way back to bed. Unsettled, she crawled between the sheets and pulled the covers to her chin.

Any thoughts of sleep had been vanquished with the attack. All she could do now was wait until morning.

Chapter Six

All the make up in the world couldn't cover the ugly bruise spreading from her hairline toward the corner of her eye. Chey did the best she could, dabbing