Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,90
secret. He posed a logistical problem that none of us could have ever predicted. Hell, until the king told me his suspicions, there was no reason to suspect the prime minister of any foul play. Carrigan fulfilled what few responsibilities he had as PM and he did it all with little fanfare. That he wanted me to kill the king was a major red flag that I never saw coming.
Just as I never anticipated the attack.
If Guy has always taken on the disciplinary role of father figure, then Saxon has always sought to be my fiercest protector. It’s only thanks to a riot in Leeds that he was away from the Palace when Guy brought me to Matthews. There’s no doubt in my mind—one word about my brush with death would have had Saxon nailing Carrigan’s ass to the wall before ripping the bastard’s entrails from his body.
Then and now, vengeance belongs to me.
And while Saxon deserves to know the truth, I can’t bring myself to reveal anything that might ruin the measure of peace he’s finally found with Isla Quinn.
Grimacing, I take one last pull of the cig before stamping it out on the ground. “Carrigan wanted the king dead.”
Saxon’s head snaps in my direction. “What?”
“Dead,” I mutter, staring at the dimly lit entrance of Christ Church Spitalfields. A view we’ll never enjoy again unless we go through the hassle of rebuilding the pub. “When I showed up at Westminster that night, Carrigan was already there and waiting to propose a bargain: kill John or he’d make my life a living hell.”
My brother curses under his breath. “That’s an ultimatum not a bargain.”
“Generally, my favorite kind,” I drawl. “Unless, of course, it’s being used against me.”
Ignoring the sarcastic quip, Saxon’s eyes narrow on me. “You told him no.”
“I told him no,” I confirm. And I’ve paid the price for my loyalty every day since. A loyalty that was all for naught because the king hired Rowena to kill us anyway. Mouth flat, I tear my gaze away from the church. “Imagine what people would think if they learned the prime minister had hoped to take out the king.”
“At least half the country would cheer him on.”
“And the other half would revolt—it’d be the Westminster Riots all over again but so much worse. Anarchy. Bloodshed. And Carrigan would go from being the country’s last hope for democracy to the fanatical Grim Reaper.” Spit out the words. Just fucking say them. “I know too much,” I say quietly. “I hold his entire life in the palm of my hand and can snap his neck anytime I choose.”
“Is there a chance that his daughter—”
“No.” The word leaves me on a battered snarl. “No, Rowena hates Carrigan.” He’s the monster in her life, just as Mum was always the monster in mine. Broken, kindred souls, the two of us. Raking my fingers through my hair, I drop my chin. “She and I have had our differences but she wouldn’t lie to me about this.”
“The queen seems to think that Rowena had a hand in the fire at Buckingham Palace.”
I shake my head. “The group that Rowena’s pulled together . . . there’s no chance in hell they could have coordinated an attack of that caliber. It’s just not possible.”
“And yet, they still found us in Sevenoaks. Guy said that she’s blind.”
Scrubbing a hand over my jaw, I say, “She has a book about English architecture dogeared to an entry on Ightham Mote. I’m guessing that someone—Hamish or Matthews, probably—let the name drop and thought nothing of it.” But she remembered, because Rowena Carrigan is cunning in a way that no one ever suspects of her.
Particularly when it comes to selling the country’s deepest, darkest political secrets to the highest bidder.
Saxon stares at me for a beat too long, and I steel my spine to keep from averting my gaze. If I know a person’s move before they ever think to make it, then my brother has the uncomfortable ability to look someone in the eye and steal every one of their thoughts. It’s uncanny, bloody unnerving. When he finally looks away, my shoulders fall with relief.
“I told Isla that I was done with Holyrood,” he says, dropping to his haunches to pick up a charred picture frame off the floor. Turning it over, he stares down at the image that’s completely blackened from the fire. “And even when I left Oxford tonight, I looked her in the eye and said, I choose you.”