The Dare Collection September 2018. Stefanie London

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СКАЧАТЬ there isn’t anyone special?”

      His unexpected mirth fades. “In my line of work, it is strongly discouraged to get close to anyone. It’s not safe, for others or for us.”

      “Can you be reassigned to The Hole?”

      He shrugs. “Sure. If I piss off the right person. Luckily I have a very influential friend who makes sure I don’t.”

      “Who’s that?”

      He presses his hand against a screen, and sliding doors open.

      “Just wait.”

      I enter a meeting room empty but for a massive table surrounded by twelve chairs.

      “What’s happening?” I ask.

      “Hello, Juliet,” a woman purrs in my ear.

      I turn, startled, swearing no one had been there a moment before. Now an attractive middle-aged woman sizes me up with intelligent eyes. Eyes that are a brilliant, stunning green. Eyes that I’ve only ever seen on the faces of the three princes of Edenvale.

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” the woman says, moving to a seat at the head of the table. She wears black knee-high boots; the stiletto heels are at least five inches and thin as toothpicks.

      She exudes power, arrogance and brains.

      I feel like a naive schoolgirl in comparison.

      “Who are you?” I ask.

      “That’s an interesting question,” she says, crossing her legs. “X, bring our guest a mug of Belgian hot chocolate, light on the whipped cream. That’s the way you like it, yes?”

      X bows once and is on his way.

      “How did you know my favorite drink?”

      “Another interesting question.” The woman trails a finger over her lower lip. I don’t know what she’s hoping to learn from my features, but it’s as if she’s memorizing every detail. “I propose a trade. Every time you answer three of my questions, I answer one of yours.”

      “But that’s not fair.”

      “No,” she says, sighing. “But life’s not fair, is it?”

      I narrow my gaze. If she does indeed know who I am, then she should treat me with the reverence fit for a future queen. “Very well. What do you want to know?”

      “Did you want to rule Nightgardin?”

      The way she pronounces the name of my kingdom, it’s with a native-born tongue. She’s one of my subjects, if I could call her that. I get the sense she answers to nobody and no one.

      “I did,” I respond. “But not as my parents intended—kept by a man for whom I cared nothing and who himself cared no more for me than as a means to an end.”

      She leans closer. “Did you ever get the sense that your life was in danger? Were you exposed to any strange accidents? Especially in the past five years?”

      “Accidents?” I frown. “There was a fire at our summer estate. And once when I was riding my horse on a mountain trail a large boulder was dislodged from above.”

      She steeples her fingers. “Did you ever wonder if these...accidents were intentional?”

      “Not until now,” I say curtly. “That’s three questions. Here’s mine. Who are you?”

      “No one.”

      “That’s not an answer,” I scoff.

      She arches a brow. “It’s the truth. I am a woman without a country. Without a name. Without a claim to anything or anyone.”

      “Why?”

      She bites the corner of her lower lip. “That’s another question. You owe me three. Did your parents ever mention anything to you about a spring?”

      My brows furrow. “Spring? Like in the woods? Or something mechanical?”

      She doesn’t crack a smile.

      “Why would they mention springs to me?” Nothing this woman says makes any sense. “They didn’t speak to me unless it was to remind me to know my place. To stay out of sight. To not bring undue attention to myself.”

      “And you never wondered why they insisted on keeping you from your subjects?”

      “That was the custom.”

      “It never used to be.” The woman’s smile is cold.

      “What are you trying to say?” I fly to my feet, voice shaking. “My parents weren’t the best. They didn’t show me love in the usual way. But they aren’t murderers. They weren’t plotting to burn me to death or crush me with a boulder.”

      There’s the sound of a scuffle outside. I hear X’s voice.

      “I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there.”

      “Like hell you’ll keep me from her,” Damien snarls. “Juliet. Juliet!” I can hear his panic and imagine how he must have felt waking up alone. Not knowing if I was taken.

      “So dramatic, that one,” the woman says with something approaching affection.

      “Damien!” I call out. “I’m in here. I’m safe.”

      The doors open and he rushes in. “Thank God. I had a dream—no, a fucking nightmare.” He pulls me to him, presses his lips to my forehead. “But you’re safe.”

      “I am. But not if you listen to her.” I jerk my thumb to the head of the table, but when we both turn around, the woman is gone.

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      Damien

      “SLOW DOWN,” I tell Juliet, who’s speaking so fast I can’t tell if she’s upset or excited.

      “This woman, she said she had no name or country or anything. She said my parents were plotting to kill me. And she kept talking about some spring, wanting to know if I knew anything about it.”

      I stumble backward and collapse into a chair. “Jesus,” I hiss under my breath.

      Juliet rushes to me. “What is it?” she asks. “Does something hurt?”

      For a second I chuckle. “Everything hurts, Princess. After what we did in that room last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if the ribs re-broke.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling the slight bump that means it will always be crooked, that I will never quite be the me I was before I was sent away.

      She lowers to her knee, resting her palms on my thigh. “I’m СКАЧАТЬ