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A second later, the door bursts open and Roark steps in, looking more handsome than should be possible. His hair is slicked to the side with sweat and his chest heaves. He looks down at his wheezing mother with contempt, but forgets her long enough to pull me into a hug so tight I think I might suffocate.
“My princess,” he breathes. “I thought I lost you.”
“You never will,” I whisper.
“I need you to do me a favor,” he says, pulling back. “I won’t hit my own mother, but someone needs to.”
“You didn’t even have to ask,” I say, slapping Korinthia as hard across the face as I possibly can. The impact stings my hand, but the way her head jerks to the side is worth the pain.
I feel a little guilty. As much as she deserves it, it feels bad to hit someone defenseless, even if--
Korinthia pulls something metal from her dress and lunges for me with a feral look in her eyes.
Quicker than I can even flinch, Roark steps toward her and punches her so hard she is literally tossed to the side with the force of the blow, hitting the ground hard enough to knock her unconscious.
“Shit,” he says. “Maybe I could have left a little off that punch.”
“I thought it was fine,” I say, still catching my breath from the surprise of her attack.
He moves back to the main bedroom and pulls something from his pocket that he uses to tie Titus’ hands.
“What did you do to Titus?” I ask.
“I taught him not to fuck with my princess. But we need to hurry. Titus and Korinthia still have control of the royal guards. I had a handful of men fighting to buy us time, but we need to move. The main force of the guard could be here any minute, and I have an idea. Come on.”
Roark tells Kato to stay back and barricade himself inside the guest bedroom with Titus and Korinthia until we come back.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
Roark puts his back to the door leading to the main hallway, raising his Blade. “We’re going to talk to the priest.”
I raise my eyebrows. “About what?”
Roark grins, dropping to one knee. “This isn’t exactly how I planned for this to happen, but... Elizabeth. Will you marry me?”
It feels like the wind is knocked from my lungs. My knees go weak, but I stay standing somehow. “I expected a bigger ring,” I joke.
Roark laughs. “Me too.”
I lean down, gripping his face and kissing him. “I will. God, yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Good, because I think you are going to have to if we want to make it out of here alive.”
I glare at him. “You make it sound like you’re only asking me because you have to.”
“I was going to wait until tomorrow, to tell the truth. But nothing about this is fake. The way I feel when I’m around you. That’s real. That’s something I never want to let go of.”
I chew my lip. “Why’s it so hard to be mad at you?”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll think of a way. We’re going to have a long time to figure it out. Come on. Stay behind me.”
I take a deep breath as he opens the door and sticks his torso out, gripping the doorframe with one hand and pointing his gun down the hall before motioning for me to follow. My heart is thundering in my chest and I feel like I can’t catch my breath, and I don’t know if it’s because the man of my dreams just asked me to marry him or if it’s because I’m not sure if we’ll survive long enough for it to happen.
We pass through several hallways without running into any resistance, and just as we’re about to turn the corner back to the main stairwell that leads down to the lobby, the sound of gunfire explodes nearby. Roark turns, shielding me with his body, then realizes no one is firing at us.
“Shit,” he says. “The fight is on the stairwell. We’ll go the back way. Come on.”
I follow him through a bedroom and down a hidden trap door. We travel with no sound but for our footsteps and the occasional pop of gunfire in the distance or the echoing ghost of a scream.
“I always thought rain would ruin my wedding day, not gunfights,” I say.
Roark turns toward me, face serious. “I’m going to give you the wedding you deserve as soon as this is over. People will talk about it for centuries. But first I’m going to make sure we’re alive to get there.”
“I wasn’t…” I say quietly. “I was just joking.”
“I know,” he says. “But I don’t want you to think this is it. You’re my princess, and soon you’ll be my queen. Our wedding will be a memory you cherish.”
