I have.
I relax my shoulders, grateful for an opportunity to unburden my chaotic mind. “I needed space from temptation.”
“Forgive me.” His mouth purses. “But is that not the whole point of having her around?”
“I don’t know!” I snarl through gritted teeth, then whirl and punch the wall. “I know nothing.” The pain steadies me, so I do it again, three times in quick succession.
“Feel better?” X asks, the corner of his mouth curling up in amusement.
“No.” I open and shut my hand a few times. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
He smiles lazily, but I swear I sense a troubled soul lurking behind his hooded eyes. “I am your personal bodyguard. And tonight I decided to do a little light reading while you were otherwise...ahem...occupied.”
I cross the room and swipe the book from his chest. “The Asca Mountains: A History. What’s this about? Do you plan to do an overland hike into Nightgardin?” The Asca Mountains provide the ancient border surrounding our old enemy to the north. In fact, the forbidding peaks have long kept Edenvale safe from the various feuds across Europe. Back when the great Carthaginian General Hannibal crossed the Alps during the Second Punic War, he ransacked the Romans because he wasn’t able to breach the perilous Ascas.
“One can never know too much about local geography,” X says enigmatically. “How about you? What brings you here when you have a willing woman warming your bed? Back before he met Princess Kate, your brother Nikolai would have disappeared for a week if he had struck upon such good fortune.”
I set my jaw. “I am not my brother.”
“No, you aren’t.” X appraises me with a shrewd eye. “You have too much of your mother in you.”
My throat constricts. Perhaps if she’d lived, none of what has occurred in my family would have ever happened. Damien wouldn’t have grown reckless and self-destructive from carrying the crushing burden of guilt for her death. Nikolai would have been saved earlier from his wanton bad-boy behavior. Perhaps she’d have even softened Father to my existence, encouraged me to walk a different life path despite my duty to serve the church.
But daydreaming about what-ifs is a luxury not afforded a member of the royal family. “You knew my mother?” I ask.
“She was a wonderful and kindhearted woman who loved her children more than life itself.”
“How about my father?” I don’t know where this rush of anger comes from, but it hits me with a tidal-wave force. “Tell me. Did you happen to be acquainted with the Captain of the Guard?”
X rises to his feet, the ancient book clattering from his lap. “Is that truly what you think of your mother? That she was unfaithful to her husband and king?”
Shame circulates in my veins.
“It’s what everyone whispers,” I challenge. “They say that my mother played the whore while my father the king was away on diplomatic duty. That I am the living, breathing testament to her transgression. Isn’t that why my cuckolded father insists that I walk this lonely path, destined never to love or be loved, only to atone for the sins of a woman that I barely remember and a man that I have never met? My duty is atonement.”
There it is, the bitter truth, out at last.
“Benedict...” X winces. “Is this what you truly believe?”
“It is what I know,” I say with quiet resignation. “It is my life and has been since I was old enough to understand the burden I bear.”
He looks as if he means to say more, but as he opens his mouth, a muffled but bloodcurdling scream pierces through the ceiling.
Ruby. Evangeline.
We race to the stairs and fly to my bedchamber.
Evangeline
I don’t recognize the room or the bed, not even the thin silk gown that covers my otherwise naked form. But she stares at me from where I clutch the pillow to my body. The angel stares, and I can do nothing but scream.
“Ruby!” a rough voice cries, but I do not know this name. I do not know the man who speaks it. “Go to her, Benedict. I will search for intruders.”
A strong hand grips my shoulder, and I thrash against it, crying out until my throat is raw.
“Evangeline!” He is stronger than I am, pulling me to him even as I let go of the pillow and beat against his chest. “Evangeline!” he cries again, and something deep within awakens as recognition blooms, as the warmth of his touch breaks through the icy fear.
I stop fighting, and my shoulders droop as I sink into him, my arms wrapping tight around his neck.
“Benedict,” I say, trembling, my senses returning.
“Shh, angel. You’re safe now.” He strokes my hair and cradles me in his arms as I try to catch my breath, the screams and sobs finally subsiding. “X,” he says over my shoulder. “A glass of water, please.”
“Yes, Highness,” I hear, now recognizing the other male voice as that of Benedict’s bodyguard. “All windows are secure, as is the door. I suspect it was only a dream.”
Seconds later X returns, handing Benedict the water, which he gingerly brings to my lips.
“Drink,” he says, and I do. My throat burns and my vision is still blurry from the tears, but I know where I am now, that I am safe, if only for the moment.
But the angel in the painting is still here—staring, judging. She knows I will betray my prince. And dream or no dream, I know I’m right. It’s all too coincidental—what has happened to my family and now this portrait the Madam wants, a portrait so clearly of me.
“They will come for me,” I say softly after a few sips. “They came for my father, my brother. Soon I will be next.”
Benedict sets the water on the night table next to the bed, and I cling to him even tighter.
“This is not the first time you’ve had such a dream,” he says, a statement rather than a question.
I shake my head. “It has been some time, though. I thought I’d rid myself of the nightmares years ago after Jasper found a wonderful doctor who helped me find peace with my father’s death. He is a good big brother, you know. He’s taken care of me since I was a young teen.”
I bury my head in Benedict’s chest, taking in his soothing woodsy scent, cedar and fresh-cut pine.
“His imprisonment has been difficult on you,” he says, and I nod against him. Then I look up, my eyes meeting his. “You can tell me more,” he adds. “If you want.”
And because no man has ever looked at me as he does—with such protectiveness, such care—I want to tell him everything. Instead, I settle for the dream.
“When I was younger, it was always me standing on the side of the road where my father crashed. I would have to watch him slamming on the
