Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,17
in much of anything beyond cold, hard facts. And the facts tell me one thing only: “You were shot first.”
“How . . .” The queen blinks. “How in the world do you know that? Did you watch the security tapes?”
“The cameras were tampered with.” And now they’re gone. Just like every other bit of evidence we could have used to re-trace the bastard’s steps. Swallowing my frustration, I drop my elbows to my knees. “Clarke would have assumed that the assassin planned to take him out first, if only to make it easier to kill you once he was dead. And,” I add grimly, thinking of what Rowena revealed, “because the shooter managed a head shot.”
Guy curses beneath his breath.
All the color drains from the queen’s face.
I do nothing but hold her hollow stare. “Clarke thought you were already dead, didn’t he.”
Her throat bobs in silent confirmation as she closes an arm over her midsection, like she’s worried that her intestines might spill out after all. “I couldn’t get up,” she whispers, her fingers tangling with the bed covers. “I could hear them struggling. I could . . . I could feel the blood coating my fingers. It—it was everywhere. I was dying. I should be dead.”
I don’t bother to deny it. Still . . . “You were allowed to live.”
Two pairs of eyes swing in my direction.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Guy bites off. “She nearly bled out.”
“Roughly five percent of people survive a gunshot to the head compared to the almost ninety who live after a shot to the abdomen.” Between my spread knees, I link my fingers together. “The queen lived; Clarke didn’t. Whoever staged tonight’s attack isn’t an amateur. They hacked our cameras. They bypassed every security measure we put in place to keep the queen safe. They blindsided us. You think they’d suddenly toss all that to the side to maybe kill her in the end? No,” I mutter, shaking my head, “it was part of their plan. Had to be.”
The blue of my brother’s gaze turns piercing. “The fire—”
“Destroyed every shred of evidence, which is exactly what they wanted. I—we—have nothing but the bullet that Matthews fished out of the queen’s stomach.”
I squeeze my hands together, doing my best to ignore the dampness pooling in my palms. Dampness that’s not from anxiety or even regret, but from the constant hum of rage that threatens to spill over and wreak havoc on everything in my path.
Buckingham Palace was my domain, which means that it’s my failure. Clarke’s death is now on my conscience. Every single staffer death will forever be on my head. The fact that I didn’t set the palace on fire, or pull the trigger, doesn’t matter when the killer is still out there.
I will find you and haunt you and destroy everything that makes you you.
“Damien.”
At my brother’s low timbre, I force my hands apart and drag them over my trousers. Turn to the woman in the bed with a look on my face that I’m sure would send small children scrambling. “I’ll do what I can. Look for leads, pull footage from nearby city cameras. Until then—”
“You’ll fake your own death,” Guy interjects.
A leash.
A collar.
Good idea or not, my chest grows impossibly tight at the absolute finality of my brother’s words. “Sod off” is right there, begging to launch free, but some inexplicable gut response tugs my attention away to look at the queen.
She watches Guy, her stare blazing with grief and anger. Her fingers coil over the bedsheets, dragging the blankets damn near up to her chin. At this rate, she’ll either suffocate or disappear altogether.
“You cold, Princess?” my brother asks from his post by the door. “Or just thinking about your own mortality?”
My chin jerks in his direction at the same time she retorts, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m your queen.”
“For now.”
Jesus.
“Guy,” I mutter roughly, “shut—”
The queen throws up a hand, silencing me mid-sentence, even as she hauls herself up in the bed, pushing and heaving with one palm on the mattress. Sweat beads across her upper lip and her fingers visibly tremble as she gathers the blanket again in a tight fist. “Explain yourself, Priest,” she says in a tone carved from stone. “What do you mean by for now?”
“Just that I know all about how you fought Clarke tooth and nail when it came to every order. After what happened tonight, I hope you’re prepared to do everything we tell you. No more objections.”