Page 31 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

“We’re getting to the bottom of it now, ma’am,” Tanner says quickly. “Someone’s cut the power.”

“I can see that.” Even in the dark, her eyes flash with Pennington rage.

“We’ll need to evacuate you and your son and interview everyone that’s here.”

“Interrogate my guests? On the one day I get to dedicate to my husband? You’ll do no such thing.” The queen sighs. “It seems I have to do everything myself.”

“Ma’am—”

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Pennington family, it’s that they’re stubborn and impossible to control. The queen slips through the bustling crowd and makes her way to the bandstand. Queen Selena lifts a microphone before she seems to remember that the electricity has been cut and tosses the thing to the side. The queen of England doesn’t need a microphone to get everyone’s attention. She lifts the hem of her dress and steps up onto the stage where the band remains still and quiet.

“Good evening, everyone!” She smiles out to the crowd. Immediately, all eyes are on her. The woman is the textbook definition of poise and grace. “I hope everyone’s enjoying the mood lighting.” A rumble of relieved laughter from the audience. The queen is in charge; the sheep are no longer anxious. “I want to thank you all for coming… it warms my heart to see this ball lit up—so to speak. Duncan loved gatherings like this. Any excuse to bring everyone together. It’s only appropriate that, ten years after his tragic passing, we come together to do exactly what he would’ve wanted: dance. Now, everyone, I implore you to remove your masks and take a moment to appreciate the one with you. Life is too short. You never know when a bright flame may be extinguished.”

Even as she speaks, her voice doesn’t shake and she never once loses composure. The woman is magnetic. Now, a smile brightens her face. “Now… enjoy the rest of the party. And dance!”

There’s applause all around. Finally—finally—the band starts back up again. The queen gracefully leaves the stage. Smile still intact, she comes over to us and addresses Tanner once more. “Find out what’s going on, but keep it quiet. I will not have Duncan’s memory blemished with a stampede of people fleeing the palace.”

With that, she leaves us. Her dress ripples behind her. The queen is an earthquake, and she leaves shock waves with each step.

“God bless the queen,” Tanner murmurs. His eyes flicker back to me, and he adds, “I’ll figure out who’s behind this. Go find the prince, for goodness’ sake.”

“Yes, sir.”

I dip out of the ballroom. A blast of frigid air kisses my sweat-dampened skin. The hallway is cast in a blue, low light. It’s strange to see the palace dark like this, and the whole thing sends a shiver through me. I feel for my gun. It hangs solidly at my hip. If this is a coup, the prince is in trouble. I need to find him. Immediately.

I lift my cell to call Roland and see that I’ve missed a text from him.

* * *

[txt: Roland] Your presence is required. My room. Stat.

* * *

Relief filters through my bloodstream. Mystery solved. I put my phone up and move swiftly down the darkened halls to the prince’s bedroom.

19

Roland

My fireplace is gaslit. Even with the power down, all I have to do is stick a lighter to it and it whooshes to life. The orange and yellow flames crackle over the ceramic replica logs.

“That should do it.” I get to my feet and glance back at Rory. “Better?”

She pokes her hands out of the insides of her robe to give me a thumbs-up. Well. My robe. It’s crimson red, velvet soft, and it has my initials, R.P., stitched into the chest pocket. It swallows her. I lent it to her thinking it would make her more comfortable, but now she looks like a wilted rose.

I ease down on the edge of the bed beside her and move my hand to the small of her back. Her fiery hair droops down the sides of her round face, and the fireplace light gives her skin a honeyed glow. I want to hold her close. Wrap my arms around her. Protect her. “Are you all right?” I ask gently.

“Oh, yeah, totally.” She cocks a half grin, but I can tell she’s putting it on. “I’ve always dreamed that one day I’d be locked up in a dark palace while there’s potentially an armed killer running around the premises.”

I exhale a breath of a laugh. “It’s funny. For years, my mother implanted this boogeyman image in my brain. According to her, there’s always an assassin right around the corner, waiting to strike as soon as I part the curtains a little too wide.”

Those moon eyes meet mine. “How does it feel to have your worst fears realized?”

“Oddly refreshing.”

The corner of her mouth turns up, and her head tilts quizzically. Before she can ask any further questions, however, my bedroom door cracks open. Rory hastily tightens the robe over her chest.

Ben’s raven-dark hair peeks around the door.

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