Reign A Romance Anthology - Nina Levine Page 0,245

kick in quickly and I'd be able to get through the rest of tonight, and perhaps, sleep later.

I turned to the woman seated on my left, opening my mouth to ask after her son when Jim-Geoff-George interrupted, calling my attention back.

"You say you're guided by the protests, but what happens if you ignore them?"

I suppressed a frustrated sigh, ignoring the tickle of annoyance at his question.

"I believe that would be to my detriment. Many a leader has ignored the calls of their people only to find themselves no longer in a leadership position." I smiled, attempting to close the conversation. "Thankfully, I'd say our country is rational enough to settle our differences by words rather than violence."

I twisted, turning to Mrs. Helen Johnson. "Now, Mrs. Johnson, you must tell me how your son is doing. I hear he's attending Oxford now?"

"Death to the Monarch!"

From the corner of my eye, Geoff-Jim-George pulled a knife from his jacket, shoving up from the table.

Oh, fuck.

My training kicked in. Already in motion, I rocked back on my chair, tipping it over. I tucked my head then rolled backward, cartwheeling until my feet hit the ground, allowing me to spring up, arms at the defensive.

The man advanced, the knife waving wildly as diners scrambled and my bodyguards fought through the crowd, struggling to get to my side.

They're not going to make it.

The knife-wielding extremist was far too close.

Focus, Kit. Today is not your day to die.

He advanced one step, then another, leaping towards me with a swing. I dipped, the knife slicing through the air where my body had just been.

Look for a weakness, keep out of reach, stay alive until the guards arrive.

I pulled back as he made to swing again. Just as he drew his arm back, an almighty roar echoed through the room and a blur of movement distracted him. Jonathan, his head dropped and shoulders braced, charged at the knife-wielding lunatic.

The extremist whirled, attempting to scare Jonathan off with his knife but he was far too late. Jonathan caught him around the waist, lifting him into the air, then slamming him down in a full body crash. The knife skittered across the floor, and I dove, scrambling to snatch it before the man could do further damage.

Jonathan reared back, his fist pounding into the man's face, his expression fierce as blood splattered, dotting clothes, table cloths and skin.

And I thought a headache was the worst part of this day.

Bodyguards arrived a moment later, pulling Jonathan from the man, as others pinned Geoff-Jim-George, shoving his bleeding face to the floor and handcuffing him as he continued to call for my death.

A single thought penetrated the shock surrounding me.

If he'd succeeded, I'd have been the first heirless monarch to die in over three hundred years.

I swallowed, turning away from the arrest, straightening my clothing, and patting my hair.

No weakness. No weakness. You may break later, Kit. Now you need to be Queen.

With a deep breath I yanked on my emotions, forcing them into a box and locking it tight.

Today I must be less than a woman and more than a queen. I must be warrior and justice, vengeance and peace. I must be all equally if I'm to prevent this from escalating.

"Your Majesty, are you hurt?"

The gentle voice had me turning, a smile painted on my face.

"I'm fine, Victoria. Thank you." I threw back my shoulders, my peripuni sliding back slightly, settling into place. "Good. Then let's check on the guests. I imagine the police will be here shortly, no doubt the media following hot on their heels. I don't want any misinformation spread about my welfare."

She nodded, her face pale behind her large glasses. "Of course. They're moving them into side rooms. They all need to be interviewed, statements taken and what-not before they can leave."

"Are you alright?" I asked, reaching over to brush a stray petal from her lapel.

She nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again. "Yes, I mean, no. But yes. He saved you. Jonathan. He looked like… like…."

Like a warrior.

"Come, Victoria," I swept past her, straightening my shoulders, and lifting my head, determined to present a picture of health and calm. "Let's see to our guests."

Jonathan

The Great Hall, Parliament House

Hours had passed since the attack but still adrenaline surged through my veins, my body alert to any potential attack.

As a young man I'd been a soldier, serving my country in wars created by men I'd never met. I'd lost friends; brothers, and sisters whose blood I still carried