Chapter 34

Callum

The deep gashes in the mud are from off-road tire tracks, and their path of flattened vegetation leads straight into the woods behind the chapel.

“They went that way.”

Uther is a font of knowledge, I think to myself sarcastically.

The coronation guests have been secured inside the chapel and ordered not to move until we know where the princess has gone.

“Where are you going?” Uther asks.

“To see where the tracks lead,” I tell him. “It seems pretty obvious.”

Uther glares at me. “You don’t know it’s not a trap.”

“Great,” I say, waving. “You stay here and ask the guests if they know something. Call me when you find out anything. Meanwhile, I’ll burn these woods to the ground if it means finding the princess.”

Uther runs to catch up, and he’s not even out of breath in the slightest. Does he have to be good at everything? Even running uphill, the beast doesn’t break a sweat.

“I’m going with you,” he says as we reach the top of the next hill.

“Fine.”

“Don’t you want to stop and look for more evidence along the way?”

“I do want to look for evidence, but I don’t need to stop. I see everything I need to see.”

An abandoned Jeep sits at the bottom of the next hill.

We approach the vehicle and cautiously examine it for clues. A scrap of torn fabric falls to the ground when Uther opens the door.

“She was definitely here,” he says, reaching for it.

“Don’t touch that,” I say, shoving him out of the way and taking the yellow scrap of silk, examining it for blood.

Uther bellows. “Why do you hate me so much? I’m trying to help you? Do I need to wallop you the way the queen just did? We’re supposed to be working together.”

Is he finished shouting at me? No, he’s just built up a head of steam.

“Because I don’t want the palace playboy near my…anywhere near the princess!”

Uther stares at me blankly. “It’s…my job. Were you struck on the head?”

The way he watches me is unsettling, like he’s picking up on clues. And I’m not helping with how erratically I’m behaving.

“I’m aware. And no.”

“Then what is your major malfunction, Private?”

Now, it’s my turn to stare blankly at Uther. “What…what is that?”

“Never saw Full Metal Jacket?”

“What’s that?”

“Never mind.”

I’m about to get another dig in when footsteps approach. We dive behind the Jeep.

Uther draws the handgun, which he keeps holstered under his jacket.

“I can see your shoes, Callum.”

Uther cocks his gun but stays hidden behind one tire of the Jeep, crouching down. “Freeze! In the name of the throne!”

“Ah, put that away, Uther. It’s just me.”

Sigurd.

I should have known.

Finally recognizing the third prince’s voice, Uther springs to his feet, spluttering, scraping, and full of apologies.

“Your Highness,” he says, holstering his weapon and smoothing his jacket as if waiting for an inspection. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“Relax, Private. Sigurd, what are you doing out here?” I ask.

Sigurd appears confused by my question. “Tracking my sister. What are you doing out here?”

“Keeping an eye on Romeo here,” I say, nudging my head in Uther’s direction.

Uther wants to pummel me for that, but he won’t dare make a move while one of the royals is watching.

“Romeo?” Sigurd asks.

I snort. “You’ve seen the way he sniffs around your sister.”

Sigurd studies me for a moment, actually considering what I’ve said. “Go on,” he says. He believes it, too. Finally, I’m not crazy.

“The princess has been through enough with her father dying, with her brothers being cut off from the line of succession. Meeting a brother she never knew she had until last year. And now, all this pressure. All eyes are on her. Some eyes more than others.”

Sigurd’s face turns beet red. “Uther, is this true?”

“Your Highness, it’s not true. It’s never been true. I’ve only ever had a duty to the crown. And…and I think Mr. Black is certifiably insane.”

It appears we are at a standoff.

Birds chirp. Bees buzz. The wind from the North Sea whips through the woods, blowing Uther’s stupid kilt and exposing his sculpted thighs to the entire world. This fucking guy.

Uther cracks first. Heaving a long sigh, he admits, “The truth is?—”

“I knew it!” I shout.

“Callum, shut it and let him talk,” the prince warns.

Uther continues, “I’ve been engaged to Sable for several months.”

Sigurd and I stare at him, neither of us having seen this coming.

“Sable? The seamstress?” I ask.

Uther bristles at the title. “The palace stylist and renowned fashion designer, you mean.”

“Something wrong with a seamstress?” I’m needling him for no reason other than that my mother was a seamstress.

“No! Of course not! But that’s not what she is!” Uther is mad now, pointing at me and red in the face. “And if you would simply take your head out of your ass for one second, you would realize that my entire occupation is spent protecting the queen and the princess from people like you who seem to be quite obsessed. What motivation do you have for being such an asshole about her security detail? Hm? Answer that, forest boy!”

Uther finally collects himself and turns to the prince. “Apologies again, Your Highness. I lost my temper.”

“No need. Enough bickering, now, we have to?—”

Just then, a distant scream echoes through the ravine. The three of us instantly forget what we were arguing about because there could be no mistake about who that sound came from.

I run flat out in the direction of the princess’s cry.

“Flora!”

Uther and Sigurd are on my tail, but I’m faster. I know these woods better than I can spell my own name.

Maybe she didn’t hear me.

“Flora!” I call out again, louder.

I know it was this way.

No answer, still, as I crash through the underbrush, leap over brooks, wishing I could blast trees and hills out of my way with the sheer force of will.

“Answer me, Flora!”

The others are hot on my heels, also calling out her name.

No answer.

“This way,” I call out when I reach a clearing and spot the old monastery in the distance.

The sight of the dormitory tower chills me to the bone. Surely, her cries are not coming from there. That place is abandoned.

Yet a part of me suspects something must be going on at the old abandoned place. How many times have I had to shoo squatters out of there, or curious seniors with metal detectors, looking for treasure?

We sprint up the hill toward the ruins.

“She could be anywhere,” Uther challenges. “That might not have been her.”

I ignore this and keep going. Sigurd doesn’t question it at all and bolts ahead of me through the unmarked trail leading to the old abandoned monastery. His damn long legs.

Everybody’s damned long legs.

When we reach the edge of the woods, I’m about to run headlong into it. Sigurd’s big hand clamps down on my shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

I struggle against him but he’s stronger than me. “Rescuing the princess!”

I missed my chance once, and I’m never going to miss my chance again.

“Listen, we don’t know how many people are in there. They could have guns. They could have explosives. They could be watching us right now.”

Do I tell him?

“They won’t detonate any explosives.”

“How do you know that?” Sigurd asks.

Uther finally catches up to us, all out of breath. “They have explosives? I’m summoning the bomb squad,” he says, reaching for his radio.

“Don’t!” I shout-whisper, slapping his radio from his hand. Finally, a win for me. It’s stupid, but I love seeing Uther scramble through the weeds for his radio.

“What is wrong with you?” Even Sigurd is bewildered by my behavior.

Finally, I have to tell him. “They won’t blow anything up because it’ll cave in the tunnel.”

Sigurd and Uther both stare at me.

“What tunnel?” Uther asks.

I look from one to the other. “The tunnel to Bird Eye Black’s treasure.”