Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,180

a single soul.”

I kill things, Priest.

Words that the queen gave me while surrounded by unpotted flowers.

Did she know about me then? Has she always known that I’m her half-brother? My gaze tracks the corridor for threats but the biggest danger of all seems to reside in my past with two dead parents who took the truth about my birth with them to the grave.

My heart pounds a quick, furious tattoo, and I stifle a rough grunt when I step on my leg at a bad angle.

Registering my broken stride, Rowena immediately slides her hand against mine. Calloused versus soft, large swallowing small. She squeezes, once, and whispers, “I have you, Damien. No matters what happens next, I have you.”

Her iron spine.

The courage in her bones.

Dragging her hand to my mouth, for a kiss to her palm, I growl, “I love—”

We spot Edward Carrigan at the same time.

With his head tucked down to his chest, he’s hauling ass down the hallway. His right arm is heavy with a stack of papers that he tries to shuffle into an oversized leather bag—a sheaf slips away to drift lazily to the floor. Muttering a curse that echoes down the corridor, Carrigan twists turns back around.

“You seem to be in a hurry, Father.”

At Rowena’s voice, the prime minister’s entire body goes perfectly still.

Stepping out from beside me, Rowena strolls down the hallway, hips swaying, her back ramrod straight. When she nears Carrigan, she makes a point to plant her foot down on the sheet of paper. “What? Nothing to say?” A serene, too pleasant smile spreads across her face. “And here I was thinking that you’d enjoy some time to reminisce with your daughter.”

As though someone has taken a foot to his spine, Carrigan jerks upright. “There’s already been enough reminiscing for one day.”

He makes a move to sidestep her.

She follows with a quick shuffle to the right.

“How about you look at me, Father?” Though her voice is laced with steel, I sense the rage quivering beneath her skin when I stop behind her, Saxon on my right. “It’s been at least ten years since you’ve actually acknowledged my existence.”

“Rowan, I’m not in the mood.”

“You never have been.” Squaring off her shoulders, she intercepts his second attempt to escape their conversation. “Let me give you the quick rundown, shall I? Three weeks ago, I survived the fire at Buckingham Palace. There were complications. Then, a little over a week ago, I survived a madman trying to kill me at a psychiatric hospital. Ask me what both events had in common.”

“After your little demonstration back there, I don’t have the time—”

“You.” Her arm slashes in a diagonal line to block Carrigan’s access to the corridor. “You are the common link, Father.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, you don’t.” With her hands fisted down at her sides, she stands her ground. “Because there isn’t a single thing that’s off-limits to you when it comes to gaining more power. You are . . . you are—”

“Haven’t I done enough for you?” Exasperation pulls Carrigan’s eyes up to the ceiling for half a breath before he jabs a finger at his daughter. “You may not see me, Rowan, but every decision that I’ve made impacts you directly.”

“I doubt that.”

“I’ve let you keep Holly Village for all these years. I’ve left you alone even when you’d be more than welcomed back into the fold at Westminster. And when I saw you at the Jewel Tower, three months ago, I helped get rid of that low-brow professor hanging around you.”

Rowena reels backward. “Ian? But he wasn’t even there for the meeting. He met me—”

“It was pathetic,” the prime minister grinds out, “how he followed you all around London like a lost little puppy. As if any daughter of mine would waste their breath on the likes of him.” Nostrils flaring, Carrigan tightens his jaw. “You should be grateful that I stepped in. Not that he took the money that I offered him but after that, at least, he understood his boundaries when it came to his interactions with you.”

The email.

The fifty-thousand pounds Carrigan promised Ian Coney if he would stay away from Rowena.

Jesus.

“Now,” he says, his voice mocking, “if that’s all you need from me, I’ll be—”

“I want you to care!”

Hot air lodges in my throat at the desperation that I hear in those fragile words. I want to pull her close and dip my mouth down to hers in comfort. I want to shove Carrigan up