Ella

Hugo, Sinclair and I are all staring at the television with wide eyes and slack jaws,

unable to process the images flitting across the screen. It seems like every time we

manage to take a few steps forward, Lydia and the Prince find a way to send us

reeling back – and this is no exception.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Hugo expresses, obviously overwhelmed. “Why would

he risk losing the pack’s sympathy by parading around another Woman so soon after

his wife’s death?”

“Trust me, Hugo – Damon isn’t the one calling the shots here. This is all Lydia.”

Sinclair states gruffly. “She’s going to force her way onto the throne one way or

another. Right now she’s playing the doting friend, but mark my words, by the time the

election ends she’ll be in his bed.”

“How bad is this?’ I ask, looking up at Sinclair’s handsome face, “Does she have

information that could hurt you?”

Sinclair Squeezes my shoulders, “She knows some secrets.” He relates, “but luckily

nothing I could imagine as a smoking gun. In fact most of what she knows would be

more harmful to the Prince things like my father’s attack, Things the public believes

were accidents but our private investigators proved malicious.” His mouth flattens into

a hard line. “The real danger is that she knows how we think, how we operate. Not to

mention that the Prince doesn’t have more than two brain cells to rub together, but

Lydia has plenty.”

“So what do we do?” I ask anxiously, my head replaying the news reel over and over

again. “My bed rest isn’t common knowledge, and they’re making it sound like my

absence from the public eye is suspicious. Do we tell everyone about my condition?

Or do we make an appearance?”

“I’m afraid making an appearance might play right into their hands. This could be

some sort of attempt to lure us out of hiding.” Hugo advises, looking very grim indeed.

In the distance I hear the front door open and close – a fact which comes as quite a

surprise, since my hearing has never been so sharp before.

Wheels roll over the door jam, and then Henry’s voice floats up toward us, “Good

Morning!”

“Henry!” I exclaim, both taken aback yet unsurprised we stayed in bed so long.

Sinclair’s father has been coming over almost every day since we agreed to be

invalids together, and he’s been an invaluable help, since I learned my true identity.

some loungewear and disappear into the restroom to change. I

my human modesty is too deeply ingrained

Sinclair does – and I’m definitely not changing

Sinclair is also dressed, though

go downstairs together, Sinclair carrying me despite

is improving more and more every day, but it isn’t

the

in low, serious voices, and me feeling

not that they exclude

of my depth.

Ella?” Sinclair asks,

for more than half an hour, debating how

to

lip thoughtfully, trying to

the nervous habit. Releasing my swollen

with Lydia’s husband?I mean

I

in all this? Even if he

for her to be gallivanting around another

point.” Henry praises,

me that he’s not giving out

this the

of trying to understand their motivations, we

without

expecting some sort of countermove to

spin ourselves out of the hot

them –

distract the pack by rustling up her husband and

Hugo nods approvingly. “Good idea,

support, but when I look over, his features

think it’s the

situation

course not.” Hugo scoffs, “You don’t need to

tell you this is all fucked six ways

mean, I feel like

replies drying. “Therę’s something bothering me and

on it.”

saying from the beginning that Princess Angeline’s

scheme.”

but one the Prince is too

widen almost imperceptibly, and then

into a fist and swearing up a

too unimaginative?”

faces.

easily. “And while Prince

more than a trophy, he’s not the

any reservations about getting the Princess

of the way.”

you saying what I think you are?” I gape, both certain I’ve

to believe my

other explanation do we have?” Sinclair

the dining

question it. And

could make the case for rogues or

poison?

if it was a political scheme you would think the royal

details in a way that benefitted the

Damon looking sympathetic.”

“Instead it just

was planned,

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