Page 100 of The Promised Prince
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The next morning, Trev sat in his office, staring blankly out the window. He wasn’t hiding out. At least that’s what he told himself.
It was just a kiss.
Just a kiss.
Now wasn’t the best time for his excellent attention to detail to surface, but it did anyway. His memory recalled every moment with Renna, every touch, and exactly how it made him feel.
It made him feelhot.
He had been a sweaty mess since the kiss—loosening his tie, squirming out of his suit jacket, tossing the covers off last night. This was a persistent heat he couldn’t turn off, and he hated himself for it.
“I think I will pay a visit to the province of Axville.” He spun in his chair, so he faced his assistant. “How soon can we be ready to go?”
Crosby’s brows creased. “Sir, the wedding is in less than two weeks. What about the preparations?”
“Princess Seran has all of that covered.”
“What about your father? He won’t like you leaving so soon before the wedding.”
Trev thought about Renna. “I don’t think my father will mind.”
“What about the guests? They will be starting to arrive soon.”
“Crosby, are you trying to talk me out of leaving?”
Crosby dropped his chin in embarrassment. “No, sir. It just seems like odd timing to be leaving town. That’s all.”
It was odd timing, Trev knew that, but he didn’t care. Nothing was happening at the palace that he couldn’t miss, and he needed to get over Renna. He couldn’t do that if they were under the same roof.
“Not really,” he argued. “They still haven’t found the missing girls. I think it’s time somebody from the royal family visits their families and shows some support.”
“It sounds like an excellent political plan, sir. I will get things arranged for a departure in a couple of hours.”
37
The Informer
The night was quiet. Not even the echo of voices filled the city. The buildings lining the streets cast shadows one on top of the other, creating shapes in the dirt below him. He studied them for a minute, lost in thought as he waited in the secluded alley. A shadow emerged from the shapes; the skunk had finally come.
“You’re late,” the informer said, pushing his body off the wall he leaned against.
“So?” the skunk replied sharply.
“So, I don’t like waiting.” His eyes flicked over the brusque man and his white streak of hair. He wasn’t intimidated by the skunk or his brooding eyes. No, he was repulsed by his filth.
“Are you scared of the dark or something?” the skunk asked.
He lifted his nose in disgust. “No. I just don’t enjoy fraternizing with the riff-raff.” He waved the man closer. “Do you have what I asked for?”
The skunk shoved an envelope into his hand. He eyed him as he flipped through the stack of money inside.
“It’s all there,” the skunk sneered. “Or don’t you trust me?”
He gave the skunk a wry smile. “I don’t trust you at all. But I do trust King Adler. Here.” He opened his suit jacket, pulled out a file, glanced over his shoulder, and made sure no one was around before passing it to the man. “I’m sure this will make for some very interesting reading. All the information is there, everything that Adler needs to do and say to pull this scheme off. If he does his job right, the plan will succeed.” He couldn’t help but be proud of the plot he had come up with against King Carver and Ezra. “And in return, Adler better turn those pretty little missiles away from Albion when I’m king.”
The skunk grabbed the file and turned to go.
