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Isabelle shook her head. “No one, I swear.”
“Then why is Lord Nathan building a rebellion with claims that August isn’t the rightful heir?”
Fear flashed across her eyes, saying more than her words ever would. “No one knows. They can’t know. Frederick is dead!”
“But did he tell anyone before I got to him?”
She pressed her fingers to her lips. “No. We were careful.” Her eyes flashed to me. “Perhaps it was you who leaked the information. I’m not a fool, Atticus. I know how you pine for Christine and how willing you are to remove anyone in your way. I had hoped you cared for my son more than that, but perhaps not.” Isabelle walked over to me, standing so close I could smell the desperation on her skin. “You’ve become a liability. I suggest you tread very carefully from here on out.”
I smiled, refusing to acknowledge her accusations with a response. “With all due respect, Isabelle, I suggest the same to you.”
And with those parting words, I spun on my heels and left.
One thing I knew for sure. I’d do anything to keep Christine safe.
No Such Queen
BLOODY ROYALS
Chapter One
ATTICUS
“There is a full lockdown in effect, sir. There is no entry or exit from the castle,” said the guard at the gate. He was an arrogant man with a thin mustache and a puffed up chest. His position as the gatekeeper for the royal family probably made him feel important, and he probably fucked his wife every Saturday in the missionary position. He had a scuffed up wedding band on his left hand and the look of a man who didn’t know good sex even though there was plenty of porn to study. The Mrs. probably laid there like a dead fish, praying he’d hurry up and come so she could go back to reading her romance novels and flick her own clit.
The guard probably had never seen a man die.
Probably had never killed a man.
But here he was, telling me I couldn’t enter the castle’s gates. As if he were important enough to stop me.
Every second he kept me from getting inside, my anger grew. I’d been eager to spill some blood. Hell, it wouldn’t take much convincing for me to drive a knife in his neck.
A palm slapped my passenger window, but I didn’t flinch.
I never flinched.
There was a sea of paparazzi encircling my car, trying to catch a glimpse of something intriguing for their exclusive news report. It was nearly impossible to hear anything over the roar of their questions.
My lungs were filled with the stench of death, and the air was filled with a thick layer of smoke. Several hours were spent extinguishing the flames that had engulfed the royal ballroom. In the midst of the fire, the castle was half burned to the ground.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked, lowering my sunglasses with my bandaged hand. I peered at him with dark eyes, boring all my annoyance right down to his very pathetic soul. “My name is Atticus DuPont. King Augustus summoned me. I am Lady Abernathy’s last contact, and he has questions.” I had a series of missed calls and frantic texts from Augustus, Adonis, and a few royal advisors, each one becoming more urgent as they progressed.
The older guard widened his eyes. I was irritated when people failed to recognize me. It was not because I was an egotistical asshole, but because it made my job more difficult. I found life to be much easier when the majority of the population feared me. My name had power, and I worked damn hard for it.
The guard’s sputtering response was satisfying. “Of course, Mr. DuPont. I’ll open the gate. His Highness is at the explosion site near the ballroom entrance.”
My car slowly moved through the driveway, and the thick crowd of paparazzi pressed against the gate. Some thrust their expensive cameras through the bars. They wanted a picture of the burned castle. Or better yet—a snapshot of their grieving king. A few tears could earn them millions. The police did a wretched job of keeping the nosy intruders at bay.
Many of them shouted questions as I crossed the threshold.
“Is it true Lady Abernathy is dead?”
“Can you confirm that King Augustus is in the ICU?”
“Do you have any leads on who attacked the Crown?”
As I rolled up my window, a few of them snapped photos. I schooled my expression into a mixture of panicked concern and agony. My world was a stage and I had to put on the best performance of my life.
