Page 111 of Falling Princess

The door slammed behind Bashir, startling me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. Apprehension raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

“I’m not sure. Stay away from the windows until I figure it out.” He inspected the window, frowning.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

Between our thwarted kiss and Bashir’s surprise appearance, my body trembled with anxious energy. I’m not sure whether to take pride that I was so distracting that he didn’t notice our friend’s presence, or be terrified that I’ll get him killed.

I pressed my ear to the bedroom door, listening for any sign of Lorcan moving—he’s as silent as a shadow.

A pop of breaking glass made me gasp.

“Lorcan?”

He burst in, took my arm and hustled me into the bathroom. There’s no way out of this room that won’t take us past the living area where the gunshot came from.

“Stay here until I come back. Stay down. Lock the door and don’t come out unless it’s me.”

He kissed me lightly on the mouth, and left. I did as I was told.

Which meant I was stuck sitting on the tile floor, heart racing, waiting for my guard and possible secret boyfriend to come back for me. This is the kind of nonsense that comes with being an imperiled princess. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Back propped against the bathtub, shivering in my sleeveless sheath dress, I waited.

And waited.

It seemed like forever, but only a few minutes passed before a series of gunshots startled me badly enough to send my heart into my throat. More breaking glass.

Someone knew we came back here. Either we were followed or…

They would have had to set up in a location across the street. The sniper would need to know which window to hit.

Our internal leak told them where we were staying. It’s the only logical conclusion.

It could have been any of us.

I ran through the possibilities, ruling out myself and Raina. Kenton seems unlikely. He doesn’t like Lorcan but has always been honest about that, and he’s loyal to my father and me. I know it’s not Cata. That rules out four of us.

It’s unfathomable to me that it could be Bashir. He’s too lazy, for one thing. For another, outwitting Cata and Lorcan would require someone with great intelligence, and while he’s not stupid, per se, Bash isn’t cunning.

Which leaves the disturbing possibility that Lorcan could be secretly working against us.

I shook my head at the notion. He’s saved my life on more occasions than I know; it would be a simple matter for him to kill me and throw the country into chaos. I can’t even imagine why this thought entered my head, when he’s out there right now, risking his life to save mine.

All I know is that deep down, I harbor a lot of uncertainty about his motives. It has nothing to do with wanting him. Right now, its existence is a delicious tang of danger about a man who always makes me feel safe and protected. It’s probably rooted in my inability to reconcile what he does with who he is—the assassin and the boy who blushes sweetly. The killer and the artist.

He chose to become the man who kills without a second thought. Trained for it. Wanted it, so he could get to me and succeed where his father failed. Yet there’s no end to it. My life will always be in danger. Where does he stop? Does he ever get to be Lorcan? What is the endpoint of his mission?

I don’t think he knows. He’s achieved most of what he set out to accomplish as a child, but now he’s an adult. What future does he see for himself?

Whereas I haven’t achieved anything I wanted. Nothing. I picked a piece of lint from my skirt, feeling useless. I’ve worked so hard and yet I feel no more ready to lead than I did in Beijing.

Perhaps he never saw himself standing by my side as king. Asking me to wait could be a way to postpone the day when we’ll be separated by a husband who views him as a threat.

I sat on the cold tile, alone with my cold thoughts, listening for any indication of whether I was about to be kidnapped or killed.

There came a knock at the bathroom door. I froze, waiting for him to identify himself.

---