“She’s loyal to a fault. I’ll admit that much, at least,” Joseph said, as if that somehow excused Charlie’s midnight escapade. As if that made it all okay.

“Loyal? Loyal! That’s all you have to say about this? She’ll get herself killed, and then what? Is Angelina prepared to take the throne?” Max saw the muscles in the older man’s jaw twitch, and he knew he’d gone too far, but he couldn’t stop himself. This was Charlie they were talking about.

Joseph struck the heavy wooden table in front of him with both fists, his chair scraping across the floor. He stood facing Max now, and there was nothing calm in his demeanor. His body trembled with ill-concealed fury. “Don’t you dare for a second think that I don’t care, Maxmillian,” he barked. “That’s my daughter you’re talking about, but what do you want of me? I’m an old man. I can’t very well go myself. We’ll send an army after her if necessary.”

Max looked more closely at the older man, assessing the strain that made the lines that etched his face grow deeper, furrowing in places Max hadn’t noticed before. The man’s eyes tightened ever so slightly at the corners, and his pupils were constricted as he glowered at Max. It was there, the worry, but it was hidden, veiled just beneath the surface.

“I’ll go myself,” Max stated, leaving no room for argument. “Claude’s getting Brooklynn now, and as soon as we can, we’re heading out to find Charlie.”

The older man nodded, settling back down once more.

“I’m sorry.” Max put his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. He’d been out of line to accuse Charlie’s father—overtly or not—of not caring enough for his errant daughter, not after all he’d done, all the secrets he’d kept to keep her safe her entire life.

Joseph shook his head, looking wearier than he had just moments before. “Don’t be, Max. Just bring her home.”

The doors opened then, and both men’s heads snapped around to see who it was.

Claude came in, alone, a scowl on his face. “The commander’s gone,” he announced, not waiting to be asked. “Brooklynn,” he amended as if they didn’t know who he meant. “She’s gone too.”

Max shook his head and muttered beneath his breath as he paced toward the door. Then he stopped to face Claude. “Get word to Aron. Let him know what’s happening here, and gather some of Brook’s soldiers. We’re going after them.”

brooklynn

By the end of the first day, the only one talking was Charlie, and Brook contemplated shooting her just to shut her up. Brook wasn’t sure it would be considered treason at this point, since Charlie was no longer sitting on the throne, only on a horse they’d stolen from the palace stables. She didn’t even think Eden would try to stop her. Charlie was driving the both of them crazy.

“Don’t you think Aron will worry when he finds out?” Charlie asked for the millionth time. Brook glanced over her shoulder to where Charlie was at least seven horse lengths behind both her and Eden. It was hard enough to wait for Eden, who was a decent enough rider, but waiting for Charlie to keep up was downright painful.

Hell, if Brook shot her now, no one would ever be able to catch her anyway, not even Eden. Brook was a better rider than she was a markswoman, and that was saying something.

When she’d actually realized just what a drawback Charlie’s riding was, Brooklynn had doubled back and left a trail of broken branches and hoofprints in the mud to make it look as if the three of them had taken an entirely different route, hoping to send any search parties off on a wild goose chase. She might not have stopped them from discovering their direction entirely, but she hoped she’d bought them some time.

“He’s probably already been notified,” Charlie went on. “I wonder who it was who told him.” Brook watched her as she kept talking, the way her eyes never left the ground in front of her, as if somehow by watching the terrain, she was helping the horse keep its footing. Her grip on the reins was so firm that her knuckles would be stiff for days. “Do you think it was Max? Do you think he used the new communication device to send word?” Charlie looked up then, her eyes straying from the path to catch Brook’s gaze, but only for a moment before returning to the ground again. Brook wondered what Charlie thought was going to happen if she looked away. That the horse was going to trip on a twig or a pebble? Or maybe a fallen tree that no one but her might notice?

Brooklynn turned and righted herself in her saddle, spurring her horse forward. She increased the distance between her and her . . . What am I supposed to consider Charlie at this point, anyway? she wondered. Charlie had insisted she was no longer to be referred to as “Your Majesty,” so what was she, then? Neither Eden nor Charlie had clued Brook in to exactly what their mission was or where they were headed, so she still didn’t understand what their plan was.

My queen , Brook reminded herself. Charlie is still my queen, as annoying as she might be, Brook thought as she listened to Charlie prattle on about Max and Zafir, and even her parents now.

Brook eased up to where she’d let Eden take the lead. “How much longer? I think Her Majesty needs some sleep. Or food. Or more likely a gag.” She winked at Eden, grinning deviously.

Eden, who’d said barely two words since they’d left during the night, just squinted at Brooklynn, giving her a look that reminded Brook she was a stowaway on this mission and that her input wasn’t at all appreciated. “We’ll be there just after nightfall. And stop calling her that. You never know who might be listening.”