Page 23 of Broken Kingdom

“I’m grateful to be with you, too,” I say, before adding in a softer voice, “Though I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

She sighs. “Yeah, well, you never were the arranged marriage type.”

“Especially not to a man who murders members of my family right in front of me.” I lock my gaze with hers, willing her not to ask any questions as I add, “Will you help me in the bathroom? I need to pee and don’t want to accidentally go on the dress. The skirt is hard to manage on my own.”

“Of course,” she says, glancing at the guard. “Is that okay?”

The guard motions toward the bathroom. “Knock yourselves out. But don’t take too long. It’ll be time to get in position in about ten minutes.”

Once we’re inside the bathroom, Bethany closes the door behind us and reaches for the bottom of my skirt.

“I don’t need help peeing,” I whisper, brushing her hands away and crouching down to feel along the back of the hem. “I need help getting out of here.”

“But how?” she whispers back. “Jean-Paul has guards everywhere. There’s one not far from this window, even though it’s way too small to fit through. At least for me. You might be able to make it. You’ve always been so little. It used to make me soooo jealous.”

“I have an ace up my sleeve,” I say, my heart leaping as my fingers move across a series of small lumps beneath the hem. Turning the fabric over, I tug at the loose threads there until I can unfold the satin. Two lock picks with different heads and a small torsion wrench no bigger than my pinkie finger fall out, clinking lightly on the tile.

“Oh my God,” Bethany whispers. “How did you do that?”

“A little help from a friend,” I whisper as I pull out a few more stitches, uncovering a third pick. Silently, I vow to bust my ass to get Madame Duval out of here once I’m free. “Turn the water on in the sink, okay? I don’t think the picks will make much noise, but better safe than sorry.”

Bethany hesitates and I add, “Go on. I just want to make sure I have all the picks. I’m not sure which I’ll need for the collar.”

“Okay, but I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she says, shuffling over to the sink and twisting the taps. “Even if you can shift, you’re just one person. You can’t take down this entire pack all by yourself.”

“Watch me,” I mutter beneath my breath as I pull a tiny piece of rolled paper from the last empty space in the hem. Thinking it might be instructions on how to remove the collar, I unroll it to read, “Your cousin Bethany is on Jean-Paul’s side. Don’t let her know what you’re up to. Just shift and run as fast as you can. I’m pretty sure they’re planning to kill you.”

Well…fuck.

“What’s wrong?” Bethany asks.

“Nothing,” I lie, tucking the note back into the hem as my thoughts race. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I should wait to pick the lock until later when Jean-Paul and I are alone.” I force a soft laugh. “And I should probably actually use the bathroom so if you want to wait outside that’s fine.”

“Yeah, right, Juliet,” she says, sighing as she adds. “I’m not as smart as you are, but I’m not stupid, either.”

I look up to see a small gun in her hand that she’s pulled from goddess knows where. Maybe her cleavage? It’s deep enough to hide a gun twice that size.

But she doesn’t have one twice that size. She has a tiny antique-looking weapon that I’m betting I can take from her without much of a fight.

I just have to make sure she isn’t able to put up a fuss about it and alert the guard outside afterward…

Trusting the feral part of me that learned to fight dirty during my years in the circus and the combat training I received at Lost Moon, I lunge for my cousin. Before she can cry out, I wrap my arm around her neck, smashing my hand over her mouth as I drag her quickly and quietly to the floor.

Thirteen

Ford

The strike force Maxim sent consists of seven men and two women in tactical gear, who seem more resigned than thrilled about their assignment.

But then, it’s pretty clear to anyone with a brain that this has all the makings of a suicide mission.

We’re horrifically outnumbered and our enemy knows their way around the location far better than we do. Even with everything Neezer, the old man Catherine rescued from the dungeon, could remember about the church and an ariel view from a drone, we’re going in mostly blind.

We don’t know which rooms will be used, which are unstable due to structural decay, how many armed guards they have on wedding duty, or where they’ll be keeping Juliet before the ceremony. All we know is that she’s in there—our lookout saw her enter the church around five-thirty, accompanied by four of Jean-Paul’s many bodyguards—and that the ceremony starts at seven.

Our plan is to move in right before, when they’ll hopefully be distracted with getting settled for the start of the service. We’ll surround the church, take out as many guards as we can without being noticed, and hope to get to Juliet before she’s trapped in the sanctuary with Jean-Paul.

Of course, that’s assuming they’re planning to have her walk down the aisle.

---