The Dare Collection September 2018. Stefanie London

brows furrow. “Spring? Like in the woods? Or something mechanical?”

      She doesn’t crack a smile.

      “Why would they mention springs to me?” Nothing this woman says makes any sense. “They didn’t speak to me unless it was to remind me to know my place. To stay out of sight. To not bring undue attention to myself.”

      “And you never wondered why they insisted on keeping you from your subjects?”

      “That was the custom.”

      “It never used to be.” The woman’s smile is cold.

      “What are you trying to say?” I fly to my feet, voice shaking. “My parents weren’t the best. They didn’t show me love in the usual way. But they aren’t murderers. They weren’t plotting to burn me to death or crush me with a boulder.”

      There’s the sound of a scuffle outside. I hear X’s voice.

      “I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there.”

      “Like hell you’ll keep me from her,” Damien snarls. “Juliet. Juliet!” I can hear his panic and imagine how he must have felt waking up alone. Not knowing if I was taken.

      “So dramatic, that one,” the woman says with something approaching affection.

      “Damien!” I call out. “I’m in here. I’m safe.”

      The doors open and he rushes in. “Thank God. I had a dream—no, a fucking nightmare.” He pulls me to him, presses his lips to my forehead. “But you’re safe.”

      “I am. But not if you listen to her.” I jerk my thumb to the head of the table, but when we both turn around, the woman is gone.

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      Damien

      “SLOW DOWN,” I tell Juliet, who’s speaking so fast I can’t tell if she’s upset or excited.

      “This woman, she said she had no name or country or anything. She said my parents were plotting to kill me. And she kept talking about some spring, wanting to know if I knew anything about it.”

      I stumble backward and collapse into a chair. “Jesus,” I hiss under my breath.

      Juliet rushes to me. “What is it?” she asks. “Does something hurt?”

      For a second I chuckle. “Everything hurts, Princess. After what we did in that room last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if the ribs re-broke.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling the slight bump that means it will always be crooked, that I will never quite be the me I was before I was sent away.

      She lowers to her knee, resting her palms on my thigh. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I—”

      “Don’t you ever apologize for what you do to me, Juliet. I am a fucking animal when it comes to you, and I would have it no other way.”

      She smiles coyly. “Okay. But, then, what’s eating you? Did I upset you?”

      “You mentioned a spring—or that this strange woman mentioned it.”

      “It’s true,” X says from the doorway. “My associate needs to know what Nightgardin knows of the spring. Because the more they believe the lore, the more they will want to breach every barrier we—I mean Edenvale has.”

      Juliet straightens and throws her hands in the air.

      “Will someone please tell me what the hell is with this damned spring?”

      My eyes and X’s widen.

      “Your Highness,” X says, sauntering into the room like he’s done this a hundred times. He probably has. “Several months ago Princess Evangeline was taken captive and dragged into the palace’s catacombs.”

      Juliet falls into one of the chairs now, too.

      “This is all too much,” she says breathlessly. “First Damien gets me pregnant. Then he forgets who I am. Rosegate tricks us and turns an amazing morning outside the stables into tabloid fodder. And now there are catacombs and a mystery woman—even more mysterious than X—who knows how I take my hot chocolate, is asking me about springs I’ve never heard of, and who can disappear into thin air the second I turn around.”

      X clears his throat.

      “It’s just one spring, Princess.”

      She glares at him. “Then tell me what is so special about the one spring.”

      I blow out a long breath. “Benedict’s wife—Princess Evangeline—she almost died to protect it. But I don’t know a hell of a lot more than that.”

      X takes a seat across from me, and Juliet and I both stare at him expectantly.

      “It is what The Order here in this part of the continent has been sworn to protect—the Spring of Youth.”

      I laugh, but X’s countenance does not change. “You’re serious. About a magical spring and some order who protects it? And you are a member of The Order?”

      Yes. Growing up as a royal is a life less ordinary. But I never anticipated spies, murder plots and a magical goddamn spring.

      He rolls up his sleeve, revealing the tattoo of a crow’s feather on his forearm. “You think me a spy, and perhaps that is one way to look at what I do. I go places others wouldn’t dare to go. I obtain information others would never be able to find. But first and foremost, I protect that which needs protecting.”

      “The royal family,” Juliet interrupts.

      X nods once. “For centuries Nightgardin and Edenvale have been at odds over one thing.”

      I roll my eyes. “Yes,” I say impatiently. “Power. We have it, and Nightgardin wants it.”

      “You have power, yes.” X raises his brows. “But it is access to the Edenvale catacombs they want.”

      “Oh my God,” Juliet says, realization creeping into her tone. “They think they can rule forever.” Her jaw tightens, and angry tears brim over her lashes. “If this spring is real and it does what they think it can do?” Her hand flies to her mouth. “The fire. The boulder. And—and—there must have been other times they tried and failed. I was never meant to be queen, was I?” Her eyes are wild. “Tell me, X! That woman asked about accidents, but I don’t think it was because she didn’t know my answers. She was testing me—testing my loyalty to my family. But you already know, don’t you? You’ve known this whole time!”

      X slides his chair backward, but Juliet shakes her head.

      “Don’t move. Don’t come near me. Just. Tell me. The truth,” she says, holding out a hand to ward him off.

      X freezes in place. “You were to be murdered on your wedding night, the Duke of Wartson framed, and your parents left without an heir.”

      She chokes out a sob. “Why does it even matter to them whether I live or die? The throne is not mine until they’re dead and gone.”

      X shakes his head slowly. “There have been whispers in the Order of your father’s concern over your mother’s behavior, of his threat to abdicate, which would strip your mother of her power and give the throne to you. But with you gone he will not risk it, not without an heir of his choosing.”

      She swipes at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Father has never spoken of this to me. He’s never given any indication that he even cares for me let alone wants me to rule.”

      “You knew, Juliet,” he continues. “Somehow you knew the marriage wasn’t right, so you fled.”

      She stares at me now, and she is not the timid girl I thought she was. She is a woman betrayed, scorned, by everyone