by Katee Robert
“Meg—”
The door opened and heavy footsteps signaled Galen’s arrival. The fact that they heard him at all was a testament to how worried he was. Normally, he was more ghost than man.
Galen stopped in the doorway, visibly centering himself. “She was pushed.” He gave Meg a long look that communicated just how pissed he was that she’d bothered to try to lie about it, and then turned his attention to Theo. “Whoever it was knew where the cameras were. They wore a black sweatshirt and pants. I can’t even narrow down gender—a woman or a small man.”
The palace alone staffed well over a hundred people, all of who moved through the space regularly and would know where the cameras were. Add in the nobles and their various staff and that number more than doubled. It could be anyone.
Meg gave a soft laugh. “Your aunt did warn me that people here would want to kill me.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Never said it was.”
They looked at each other, the truth an almost physical presence in the room with them. Someone had tried to kill Meg. They failed, but there was no reason to think that would deter them.
Galen crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m going to talk to Isaac. We’re putting security on you.”
“You have security on me.”
“Only when you’re outside the palace. Now, they’re on you all the time.”
Meg thinned her lips like she wanted to argue, but whatever she saw on their faces changed her mind. “Fine.”
Galen stalked closer to the bed. “Did they give her something?”
Meg started to cross her arms over her chest, winced, and let herself sink back into the pillows. “For the millionth time, I am sitting right here and talking about me like I’m a woman-shaped doll doesn’t fly. No, the doctor didn’t give me anything.”
Theo grabbed the pain meds and gave them a shake. “On the contrary.”
“Shut up, you tattletale,” she hissed.
Galen kicked off his shoes. “Look, baby, I know the pain pills make you nauseous, but what’s the alternative?” He climbed onto the bed to sit on the other side of her and lifted her hair away from her face. “Fuck. You look like shit.”
“Thanks, baby. You really know how to turn a girl’s head with that kind of talk.”
The acidity in her tone rolled off Galen just like it always seemed to. They bickered as often as they fucked, and it bonded them in a way that had nothing to do with Theo. Normally, evidence of that love made him happy, but today it felt like he was standing on the outside of a window and looking in.
Galen shifted to cup Meg’s jaw and tilted her head to the side. “We’ll order some soup—something you don’t have to chew—and crackers. If you put something substantial in your stomach before you take the meds, they won’t be as bad.” He shook his head when she started to protest. “You’re not going to be able to sleep without them. Trust me.”
She sighed. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”
“Is it really worth if it you spend an entire night laying here, miserable and cursing your stupid-ass pride?”
Another sigh, this one flirting with being downright dramatic. “No?”
“Good answer.” He finally released her and shifted to face Theo. “This is a problem.”
“Understatement of the century. Yes, Galen, this is a fucking problem.” It wasn’t Galen’s fault any more than it was Meg’s, but Theo couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Someone pushed our girlfriend down the stairs.” It struck him then of how it would look. The media would take one picture of Meg and start screaming that Theo or Galen was abusing her—maybe both.
He didn’t say it. If he brought it up, they would both look at him like he was shit on the bottom of their shoe. He should be focused on Meg and solely Meg, but Theo had never been all that successful at turning off the part of his brain that schemed and planned and maneuvered. It was how he took care of what was his. Galen preferred to stalk a situation and take care of it privately—and permanently—but that wouldn’t work this time.
They had no evidence to go on. There were half a dozen people off the top of his head who would happily see Meg gone, whether because she was a foreigner or because they blamed her for the unconventional setup of having two Consorts. If he’d just named Galen, they would have grumbled, but eventually Edward would marry and his children would take over the throne when the time came. The line would remain unbroken. And Galen’s mother’s family stretched back through Thalania’s history nearly as far as Theo’s did. His father might be Greek, but he had the right lineage to appease the Families.
Meg didn’t.
Theo knew that when he named her Consort, but he’d been selfish. He wanted her, and he wanted Galen, and he wanted all three of them together. They worked, though not much seemed to be working in their current situation.
He couldn’t send Galen hunting. Theo had no reason to doubt Galen would find the perpetrator, but he was no longer the head of security who could move through the background without drawing attention. He was Consort, and every move would be scrutinized down to the last detail.
Another sin to lay at Theo’s feet.
“I’ll take care of it.” The words emerged before he had a chance to call them back. Theo climbed off the bed and yanked his shoes on. He tried to keep his emotions locked down, but they showed in his jerky movements.
“Theo—”
“I’ll take care of it,” he repeated. He took a slow breath and turned to face them, drawing from years of training to put a smile on his face. “Rest, princess. Galen will watch over you while you sleep. You’re safe.” Theo would do what it took to ensure she stayed safe. He picked up his suit jacket and shrugged into it. A quick check of the clock confirmed it was barely dinner time. Too late for what he had planned, but he’d make it work.
He felt Galen behind him as he stepped out into the hallway. “I have it covered.”
“Funny you say that, because this whole situation is fucked.” Galen grabbed his arm and spun him around. “We almost lost Meg and now you’re running off alone? No. Fuck that. I’m not losing both of you.”
He bit down on a sharp reply. Theo shot a look down the hall, but they were blessedly alone. He took Galen’s shoulders and pulled him close, until their breath mingled and their soft words wouldn’t linger for anyone to hear. “I’ll take Isaac. I’m not rushing into anything.”
“I don’t know what you’re not rushing into, Theo. You don’t fucking talk to us anymore.”
It hadn’t been an intentional withdrawing. He simply saw how exhausted and stressed they were and tried to alleviate that in the only way he knew how: by not adding to it. Obviously he’d taken a wrong step somewhere, though that was a conversation for another day. Add it to the growing list. “Trust me this once, Galen. I’m going to handle this, and then we’re going to sit down and figure some shit out. I promise.”
Galen cursed and hooked the back of Theo’s neck. He towed him in and kissed him, every move conveying fury and fear and a frustration he didn’t know what to do with. Shit Galen would never say aloud, not where someone might witness it. Theo heard it all the same. He kissed his friend back, using tongue and teeth to reassure him in the only way he’d listen to. It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until they got to the bottom of this, until they fixed the thing he hadn’t quite managed to admit was broken.
Theo stepped back and Galen let him go. He nodded at the door. “Take care of her. I’ll be back shortly.”
“You’re not going to tell me where you’re going, are you?”
If he did, Galen might hogtie him and toss him into a closet, king or no. “Correct.”
Galen cursed. “Tell Kozlov that if something happens to you, I’m going to hunt him down and gut him.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that information along.” Theo hesitated, something soft and worried taking root in his stomach. “I love you.”
“I know.” Galen opened the doo
r. “I love you, too. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He was about to go do something stupid.
Theo waited for the door to close and to hear the click of the lock being engaged. Then he went in search of his head of security, Isaac Kozlov. It didn’t take long to track him down—the man took his job seriously and essentially lived in the hub where he ran the various security operations. He looked up as Theo walked through the door and lunged to his feet to bow, bending his huge body in half with more grace that he should have possessed with his size. “Your Majesty.”
“Isaac.” He closed the door behind him and checked the room. As usual, Isaac was alone. “I need you to do something for me, and both time and speed are of the essence.” Back when Galen ran the security for the palace, he’d specifically recruited Isaac because of his unique skills pairing of being able to hack damn near any computer system, and being just as deadly as Galen was. There weren’t many people Theo trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt, but Isaac numbered among them.
If only for his loyalty to Galen.
Isaac straightened. “Of course, Your Majesty. Is this concerning the Consort’s attack?”
“It is.” He hesitated. Once he pulled this proverbial trigger, there was no going back. “I need you to find Dorian Mikos.”
5
Dorian Mikos drank his wine and watched the car approach the house. He already knew who it contained. He’d been warned several hours ago that an unknown entity had zeroed in on his location. Said entity may be unknown to his security team, but he knew exactly who had come calling.
His wife, Anne, leaned against the railing. She was beautiful, even after all these years, the wind teasing her blond hair away from her face. Age had burned away the youthful curves of her body, leaving only a sterling strength behind. She didn’t look over. “He’s early.”
“Fear makes fools of even the best of men.” Dorian wouldn’t necessarily number Theodore Fitzcharles III among the best of men, but he brought more power to the table than most. He was a threat, and a large one. They’d spent six months watching him—watching all three of them—and considering their options. Thirty years ago, Dorian couldn’t have imagined that his only son would be Consort to the King of Thalania. If he had, he would have played things out differently.
Impossible to hold sway over Galen when the man was as likely to shoot him as listen to anything he had to say. The boy really took things too personally. Power was the only god Dorian worshipped, and everything was sacrificial when it came to the long game.
Including his son.
He glanced over his shoulder at the black-clad man standing just out of earshot. “Send him up when he arrives.” He waited for the man to nod and disappear before turning back to his wife. “We have to be careful with him. He doesn’t function the same way Galen does.” Their son divided up the world into black and white. It wasn’t anything so simplistic as good and evil—it was the people who mattered to him and those who didn’t. He might be moved to empathy for someone in danger, but he wouldn’t compromise the people he loved because of a bleeding heart. It made him hellishly hard to manipulate because he was either apathetic or steamrolled over every perceived threat he came across.
Theodore, on the other hand, appreciated nuance.
One didn’t come back from exile and ruin a perfectly good coup unless one was a threat.
Anne shifted, a signal that they were no longer alone. Dorian contemplated his wine and hid a smile. “What brings the King of Thalania to my humble home?”
He half expected the man to charge forward with accusations. Dorian should have known better. Theodore walked out onto the balcony and dropped into an empty chair. He picked up the bottle of wine and examined it. “Good vintage.”
“I appreciate the finer things in life.”
“Nothing but the best for you while you suffer out your exile.” Theodore made a show of looking around. “Suffering is a relative term, I suppose.”
Dorian shrugged a single shoulder. “I suppose it is.” He waited, but Theodore didn’t seem interested in filling the silence. Dorian wrapped a stranglehold around his impatience. This was nothing more than a game of conversational chicken, and he’d be damned before he broke first and gave Theodore the upper hand.
Theodore leaned back and propped a foot on his knee, every inch the king at home in his kingdom. It didn’t seem to matter that they weren’t on Thalanian ground or that he currently sat in what amounted to enemy territory. “Phillip’s doing well in prison. I know you were particularly concerned about your old partner in crime.”
He blinked. Where was he going with this? “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m stating it baldly. My uncle, the one whom you conspired with to keep me from the throne, is doing well in prison.” Theodore let both feet drop to the ground and leaned forward to brace his elbows on her knees. “I think it’s time we had a discussion. Don’t you?”
Galen lay in the dark and listened to Meg’s breathing. Such a little thing—an inhale, pause, an exhale. He’d never put much thought into it before. Even after the car crash that had knocked Theo out and cut Meg up, he’d never really thought either of them would die. He’d been too focused on the end goal: finding and eliminating the threat.
This time, he didn’t know who the threat was.
Someone had come into what amounted to their home and hurt their woman, and he was stuck here playing nursemaid while Theo went off and did… whatever the fuck he was doing. Taking risks was supposed to be Galen’s job. For so long, his entire purpose had boiled down to one prerogative—keep Theo safe. Six months wasn’t enough to undo years’ worth of thought process. He didn’t want to undo it. No one was better than Galen at keeping Theo from harm. Not even Kozlov, though he was at least mostly capable.
Galen closed his eyes, and immediately opened them again. There would be no sleep tonight, not with him counting Meg’s every breath and listening intently for the door to open and Theo to return safely.
He should have gone with him. Watched his back.
But if he’d gone, who would have taken care of Meg?
Fuck, this wasn’t his deal. He never bothered to be pulled in different directions, because his momentum had only one direction. Galen preferred to operate like that. Life was messy, as Meg was so fond of reminding him. Shit got tangled and emotions made them all act like damn fools. He loved Meg, and he wanted her safe. He loved Theo, and he wanted to keep his friend’s ass out of danger.
Hours later, right as the first rays of dawn edged through the windows, the door opened. Even in the darkness, Theo appeared to have aged a decade. He ran his hand over his face and headed toward the bathroom. Galen could let him go, he could pretend to sleep and put off an uncomfortable conversation for a few more hours.
But then, Galen had never been the type to run from a fight.
He waited until the bathroom door closed, and then he carefully edged out from beneath Meg. A few seconds to ensure she was tucked in tight beneath the blankets, and then he stalked to the bathroom and slipped inside. Theo stood with his hands braced on the marble countertop, his head hanging loose between his shoulders. “I have good news and I have bad news.”
“What’s the bad news?” Better to take the hit head on instead of wasting the time bracing for it.
Theo didn’t look up. “Your father is behind the attack on Meg. I don’t have proof, but—”
“Fuck.” Galen strode to the shower and flipped the water on. The sound wouldn’t completely mask their conversation, but Meg needed her sleep and with the pills in her system, she could wait to be looped in until she woke up. “Tell me you didn’t do some fucking bullshit like seek Dorian out and talk to him.”
Theo lifted his head and gave a wan smile. “We needed to know.”
“If you needed someone to run interference, I am the appropriate option, you jackass. He’s my fucking father, and I’m the
only one who is guaranteed to be able to walk into his presence and back out again.” Probably.
Theo finally turned to lean against the bathroom sink and crossed his arms over his chest. “That was true before. There’s no reason to think it’s true now.” He hesitated the barest breadth of a second. “And, fuck, Galen, I know what seeing him does to you. I couldn’t do a damn thing about it when I was exiled, but I can do something about it now. If that means I take on a little risk, then so be it.”
“A little risk.” Galen might laugh if he wasn’t in danger of throttling his friend. “A little fucking risk.” He stalked closer. “Do you know what he does to people he has under his control?”
Theo’s gaze flicked to Galen’s bare chest, to the scars that marked his skin. “You know I do.”
“You are the goddamn king, Theo.”
“I’m aware.” Theo grabbed his shoulders, the relative pain of his fingers digging into Galen’s skin grounding him. He leaned in. “And if you think I’m going to let him near you if I have any other choice, you’re a fucking idiot.”
God, he loved this arrogant fool of a man. It didn’t stop him from wanting to strangle Theo, but love and fear danced together in his chest, a confusing combination that had never been so strong as it was in that moment. “You took Kozlov.”
“I took Kozlov and another three of his men that he trusts implicitly. They had a sniper set up before I ever walked into the house, and the entire meeting took place on the balcony.”
Smart of Dorian. He wanted the King of Thalania’s attention, and he’d ensured that nothing would hold Theo back from coming to him. It’s what Galen would have done if he wanted to lay a trap, a spider sitting in the middle of a web of its own making. He sighed. He could keep arguing about this until he was blue in the face, but the end result was that Theo went, and now he was back. “Do not do that shit again, Theo. Promise me.”
“No.” Theo squeezed his shoulders. He looked away, and then back at Galen. “I know I’ve been fucking up. This balancing act is more difficult than I could have dreamed, and I know that you and Meg are things I have let slip that I shouldn’t have. I can work to fix that, to make it right, but I can’t do that if one of you is dead. If that means I have to do exactly what I did tonight a thousand times, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
