The Dare Collection September 2018. Stefanie London

does that,” Kate answers wryly. “You’ll get used to it.”

      “I just so happened to be installing an extra security system around Princess Juliet’s windows. We aren’t picking up chatter that Nightgardin is planning another kidnapping attempt, but we are taking no chances with a member of our royal family.”

      There’s that word again.

      Family.

      I press my hand to my lower belly. “I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”

      X nods curtly. “I couldn’t help overhear a few words, Highness, so please pardon my interruption. Did you know when we first found Damien that he had forgotten a year of his life? He was beaten about the head and neck as badly as a man can be and still survive. The back of his head bore bruising that was an exact match for the butt of a rifle.”

      I gasp, bile rising in my throat. Had Mother and Father ordered such viciousness unleashed? It troubles me to suspect the answer.

      “As the swelling in his brain has decreased, his memories have slowly returned. Like he said on your arrival, we are down to just a few lost days.”

      “Our days.”

      He nods again with a sober expression.

      “Perhaps...perhaps he doesn’t want to remember them.” My voice breaks into a million pieces. “Pardon me, but I’m very tired. It’s been a long journey and quite an eventful morning.”

      “I will arrange for a doctor to visit in a few days’ time,” Kate says before leaving. “To put your mind at ease.”

      “As for these—” Evangeline gestures to the coloring books “—I know they seem silly, but art has a way of healing things that seem broken.”

      “Thank you.” And I mean every word. Their kindness is almost overwhelming. Such a rarity in my world.

      The door clicks shut behind them and X moves to exit the window.

      “Do you not have a harness?” I quiz, walking over. The drop is a good six stories to a flagstone courtyard.

      “I used to be a free climber in the Dolomites. Don’t want my skills to get rusty.”

      “And I don’t want you to fall to the ground and crack like an egg on my account.”

      He tweaks one of my braids. “Then I better make you a promise that I won’t fall.”

      A glimmer of humor ripples through me. I’d always wanted a big brother, and this man is almost the walking incarnation of the sibling I’d imagined.

      “You don’t need to stay cooped up in the tower,” he says, swinging his feet out the window. “The grounds are extensive. There is the maze. The chapel. The wishing well. Find your new husband. Ask him to give you a tour.”

      I cross my arms, hugging myself close. “My new husband doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

      “For what it’s worth,” X says, doing a quick, complicated maneuver that has him dangling from a near-invisible fingerhold on the castle wall, “I believe your story. That something sparked between the pair of you those missing days.” He frowns. “Damien has been lost most of his life. He’s weathered many storms, more than any man should for his still-short years on this earth. Perhaps you are his light in the dark.”

      “You care about him.”

      “I’ve always been a sucker for the underdog.” A troubled look flashes over his face and disappears. “Plus I made a promise long ago to look out for him. And I don’t intend to break it.”

      “A promise to whom?” I ask, but he is already climbing down, ducking around a carved gargoyle and leaving me with more questions than I had when I arrived.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      Damien

      I STORM TOWARD the open compartment of the royal hangar. After today’s events—marrying a woman I don’t know who’s supposedly carrying my child—I need to get behind the wheel and just drive. But it looks like my brother has other plans. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

      Nikolai spins toward me with a self-satisfied grin as I watch the Alfa Romeo rise up several stories on a mechanical platform. Our great-grandfather owned a collection of rare automobiles that he kept housed here with the aircraft. The movable platforms allowed him extra storage space, but I get the feeling my dear old brother is doing more than storing my favorite car.

      “You’re off the racing circuit,” he says, pocketing my keys. “And don’t even think about trying to get it. You don’t know the pass code for the lift, and I’ll change it daily if I have to.”

      We’re face-to-face now, my chest heaving. I may be his little brother, but dammit if I don’t have an inch or two on him these days.

      “Why?” I demand through gritted teeth. “And since when is it up to you, anyway?”

      He dusts off the shoulder of my leather jacket, a condescending move that is just so...Nikolai. I know this man hates me, and I do not blame him in the least. But that doesn’t mean I can’t call asshole when I see it.

      “Shall we count?” Nikolai asks.

      “Count what?” I say, taking the bait.

      He crosses his arms. “Count the times you behind a wheel has ended in some sort of catastrophe.” His words hits me like a fist to the gut. “You did quite well ‘rescuing’ Victoria from marrying a man she only pretended to love. And now there’s the lovely Juliet. Your wife. Had you not been tempting fate once again on that—that fucking death trap of a course at the Nightgardin Rally—we would not be in this precarious political position.”

      If I didn’t know better, I’d say my brother sounded almost concerned.

      “None of it has anything to do with a skull fracture or any of the other various broken bones that are still mending?” I ask, deciding to push his buttons. “That can’t possibly mean a thing to you when I robbed you of your mother, your first love and now possibly your kingdom. Can it?”

      My throat tightens, and the words burn like acid.

      “Yes. I hold you responsible for Victoria. And for the situation we are in right now. But Mother’s death? Damien, that could not be helped. Sometimes women die in childbirth, something that is beyond anyone’s control.” He speaks not with sympathy but with practicality. “Even Father knows that. Whatever issues you have with how you entered this world, they are yours alone. The problems caused by reckless decisions on your part? Well, those are another story.”

      My brother wouldn’t speak to me after the accident. Wouldn’t stand being in the same room with me. I was not even permitted to go to Victoria’s funeral. So even though there is no affection in this conversation, it is a conversation nonetheless, the first we’ve truly had in years.

      “I want my car, Nikolai. How the hell am I supposed to get around?”

      A throat clears behind me, and I turn to see X at the hangar entrance. He’s leaning on the grille of an Audi SQ5, one I never heard approach. Nor did I hear the man exit the vehicle.

      “You need to stop doing that,” I tell the man who has been the head of our family’s security since I was a child. Back then I found his tricks amusing, always wanting to figure him out. “It’s an invasion of privacy, the way you always just show up.”

      X straightens and brushes off his already-immaculate lapel.

      “My apologies, Highness. But it goes with the territory. If you don’t see me coming, neither will the enemy.”

      Nikolai chuckles. “Trust me. If you want anyone on your side when trouble is afoot, X is your man. Plus, now you have the answer to