“Be killed, you mean?” I challenged flatly.

He nodded, eyebrows raised. “That’s exactly what I mean.” Why was I relieved that he didn’t try to lie to me? Why did that simple acknowledgment elevate my trust in him, even if only a little? Behind me I heard footsteps, and I turned to see that Brook had joined us. “As far as a new ruler, you’re right; we must have a queen to take her place.”

I scoffed at his response. “You’re insane! Where do you think you’ll find another regent willing to come to our country to take the queen’s place?”

“We don’t need to go to another bloodline. We have one here, in this country. Descendants from the original line, who survived the overthrow more than two hundred years ago.”

“So where have they been? Why does no one know about them?”

But Xander didn’t even blink; he had a quick answer for all my questions. “They’ve been hiding. And why wouldn’t they? Their very existence would be a challenge to the monarchy. Surely if anyone had known who they were, they would have been captured and executed by the crown.”

“And what’s changed?”

“Time is running out. Sabara is growing old and needs an heir soon. She’s been searching as well, hoping to find these descendants before we do, to infuse her brand of evil into them before we can convince them that our way is better, that the class system is no longer necessary. If she finds them first, I worry about what type of spell she’ll cast on them.”

I was confused; he was talking nonsense. Besides, I questioned, “If they truly are descendants, wouldn’t they have the will of the people to back them? Why wouldn’t they have sought to regain the thro Jtooll s talne long ago? Why has no one tried to put them back into power?”

“It’s simple. There’s never been a female child before. There has to be a princess to inherit the realm.”

I gave him a dubious look. “And now there is?”

Brooklynn shifted behind me but remained silent.

“We believe so.”

I hesitated, wondering why there was a sudden charge in the air, why the hairs on my arms were suddenly standing on end. “How do you know?”

Brooklynn cleared her throat, and I turned to look at her, as she—not Xander—answered my question. “Because, Charlie, we think we’ve found her.”

They were wrong. This was all wrong. There was nothing royal about my family—or me. I’d been born into the Vendor class, plain and simple.

We were merchants who worked hard in service to the crown.

I studied Angelina as she slept, wisps of her silver-blond hair sticking up from her head, creating a soft halo even in the darkness. I tried to imagine her as anything other than what she was, but it was ludicrous. She was no more a princess than I was.

“Wake up.” I spoke as quietly as I could, leaning close to her ear. I shook her gently.

I felt bad waking her after so little sleep, but we needed to leave. I needed to go in search of our parents, and after everything Xander had confided—his suspicions about who we were—I was certain he would try to stop me if he knew what I planned.

Her sleepy eyes blinked up at me.

“You have to get up. We’re leaving,” I explained, slipping her jacket over her shoulders and tucking Muffin into the inner pocket.

She took my hand without hesitation and we crept from the chamber, careful not to disturb Sydney, who slept more soundly now. I was grateful that the woman who had been positioned at the door the day before was no longer standing guard over us.

It was easy for us to blend into the ceaseless activity in this city below the streets; no one paid any notice to the two of us as we moved quietly among them. Angelina kept pace with me despite the weariness that was apparent in the dark circles beneath her eyes. Her pale skin hid nothing from me.

I scanned the walls again—just as I had before retiring to our chamber for the night—looking for possible exit points. In my head, I’d mapped out several promising options. The people who lived down here seemed to come and go freely, and I could see no shortage of tunnels and doorways leading to the world above.

What I wasn’t as sure of was whether we would draw more attention using any particular route. Attention was something that Angelina and I needed to avoid at the moment.

I pulled Angelina out of the way, our backs pressed to the wall, as we watched three drunken men staggering toward us from one of the darkened passageways. They were loud and unruly, clinging to one another as they stumbled over their own feet an Jtooinad tod then laughed at their missteps. I kept my eyes lowered, relieved that we didn’t earn so much as a second glance from any one of them. I was certain they had just come from above ground.

I dragged my sister in the direction from which they’d come.

Once we were away from the ever-present gas lamps of the main chambers, the channel we stepped through grew darker and narrower. From somewhere up ahead, I could hear the constant sound of water dripping. The fetid smell that assaulted us made me wonder if we were traversing some sort of sewage line. Angelina squeezed my fingers tightly, although whether she was afraid of the dark or repulsed by the odor, I couldn’t be certain.

“I’m here,” I assured her, taking each step cautiously, feeling my way with my toes. With my free hand, I brushed my fingertips along the wall, which was slick in places, making my stomach recoil even when my fingers could not.

Every step felt dangerously uncertain.