When vengeance strikes in the form of a bullet out for the princess's blood, Princess Aleia VonAuclair must flee the heart of her country in order to protect the people she loves and take back the pieces of her soul she'd lost to the girl she once l...
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My heart was a monstrous thing in my chest, racing a mile a minute as my eyes shot between Edrian and his father and the crowd of people milling around, unbeknownst to the growing tension between a father and his son. Panic flooded me in anticipation of what would happen if some kind of divine intervention didn't appear within the next five minutes.
Edrian visibly stiffened, the taut muscles of his back coiling tighter the longer his father spoke to him with a pleasant expression on his face. I could tell it was an act - a facade to keep up in front of the public eye.
The senile curve of his lips betrayed his charade, the vile intent outlined in the sinister way his eyes pinned on Mila. He was taunting Edrian, playing a game with him that only he had control over the strings, over what he could do if Edrian didn't agree to the contract.
There were already a few cameras poised, a few excited fans hovering around where Edrian and his father stood at the other entrance on the opposite side of the rink; waiting for their turns to ask for a photo or autograph from their so-called respected governor.
Tendrils of anger seeped into my veins as I watched Mila hide her face in the crook of Edrian's neck.
The split second I managed to catch her expression sent a dagger spiraling through my gut. Tears glazed her eyes, clinging to her lashes where they fell and painted a path down her scarlet cheeks.
I lurched forward on shaky feet but stopped short when Arina nearly bumped into her colleague trying to reach her children.
Arina's eyes widened in pure horror. The uneven rise and fall of her chest told me she wanted to storm over to them, to break them apart but the sight of her husband and son at each other's necks in public paralysed her to the ground.
Their mouths were moving. They were talking in a deceitfully pleasant manner, but their postures were rigid and Edrian's eyes were burning with resentment. I stumbled closer just in time to catch the tail end of their conversation.
"Leave, Dad. Nobody fucking wants you here. I already told you. If you want to talk to me, leave mom out of it."
"I'm not here for you, Edrian. I'm here to see my family and support my wife."
The muscle lining the column of Edrian's throat shifted. His arms tightened around Mila, and she curled herself further into the safety of his arms.
"Bullshit," he seethed. "You've never once supported mom. Where were you during Christmas? Or Thanksgiving? What about her birthday? Where were you then to support Mom and Mila? I'm not a fucking idiot. What are the headlines going to read tomorrow, Dad? Senator Anthony visits St. Pheonix Hospital for a fun Family Picnic Day with his wife and children? "
Anthony Rousseu. Current reigning governor for the congressional delegation of California and one of three candidates competing for the position in the upcoming re-election. After Nate mentioned his position as governor, I did some digging. A lot of digging.
