Sefina Hale wants one thing and one thing only - to save her parents' dying sugar plantation. She doesn't care about her friend Elia's plight to win the king's heart, she doesn't care about the healing tensions of the war between Mavacuria and its n...
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"Long live the revolution!"
Jimin groaned. Not this again. He'd rather clean the inside of every chimney in the palace with his bare hands than deal with the rebellion today, but it seemed he didn't have a choice in the matter.
The ballroom was a smoking mess. A blast flared overhead, and people shrieked as a stain glass window shattered into a spray of violet and burgundy shards. Jimin ducked behind a stature of armor, wincing as a window fragment sliced through his jacket. It wasn't the pain in his arm he was worried about. He happened to be wearing his favorite suit, and the last thing he needed was to drag his sorry ass to the royal tailor and ask for it to be repaired. Again.
A woman in a burnished gold dress fell at his feet, and Jimin shook himself out of his thoughts. Forget the suit – as crown prince, he had a duty to protect and serve his people.
With one arm, Jimin hauled the woman up. Using his free hand, he reached into a slim crevice beside a painting of angels and pulled on a familiar lever. The painting swung forward slightly, and Jimin pushed the woman into the newly revealed staircase.
"Go!" He urged. "I'll be right behind you."
The woman nodded through her tears and descended the secret stairs. Growing up, Jimin's parents had scolded for spending so much time in the network of hidden passageways laced throughout the castle, but his familiarity with them was paying off now. He herded everyone within arm's reach into the tunnel, from ladies and lords to guards and maids.
All except one of them followed his command. A short young woman in a deep indigo dress moved like a salmon upstream against the crowd, surging up the staircase and back into the smoking ballroom.
"Miss!" Jimin called, lunging for her. His fingers grazed her elbow, but she ducked away from him.
The woman sprinted into the open center of the room, nimbly dodging the panicked fray around her. She dropped to her knees and began patting the floor, almost as if she had lost an earring.
While Jimin was comforted he wasn't the only one worried about his appearance in such a calamity, now was not the time for this lady to be checking for wayward jewelry. He had yet to hear gunshots or the clash of steel swords, but the rebellion's attack on the palace could turn violent at any moment.
Jimin guided a portly lord into the relative safety of the staircase before leaping into the ballroom. In three long strides, he had reached the woman, whose full lips had tightened into a frown.
"Your diamond earrings can wait, princess," Jimin barked. He wrapped an arm around her waist and started pulling her towards the secret passageway.
The woman thrashed in his arms, yelling obscenities. While Jimin was impressed with her colorful language – he heard "shitstick" and "asshat" between other curses – he realized she had no idea if he were friend or foe. Jimin began to loosen his grip, which only caused her to turn around and buck her head forward. Half a moment later, pain burst across his forehead.
