As I open the door, a maid stands with her hand prepped to knock.
“Sorry, my lady," she says, dropping her fist. “The king has requested your presence tonight for dinner. I'm supposed to help you dress and take you there."
“Help me dress?" I say. “I'm already dressed." I gesture to my gown and the maid smiles like she finds me absurd.
Right. I needed to blend in. Fit into the box of pretty, bimbo noble girl.
I straighten and nod at her, standing to the side so she can come in. The next few hours are spent brushing my hair and pinning it into an updo on my head and tightening me into a corseted gown. When I look at myself in the mirror, I once again don't recognize myself.
But I suppose that's the point.
The maid leads me through the maze of palace halls until we stop at a door. She bows and leaves me to it.
I knock gently on the door.
“Enter," the king says inside.
The room is a study, similar to the one he first brought me to the night before. This one, however, has a dining table and a more open layout. The candles cast a dim light on the bookshelves and I take note of the parchments scrambled on the desk. For some reason, this room seems more personal. This is the king's actual study and the last was a display.
King Ambrose is at his desk. He stands as I walk in, smiling.
I ignore the way my heart stutters.
“You requested me," I say with sass in my voice.
“How are you settling in?" he asks me.
“About as well as can be expected, Your Majesty." Like a bull in a market shop…wearing a nice gown.
Ambrose pours us drinks and hands me one. I down it instantly and hand it back. He grins at me like he's never seen someone act so untoward before.
I walk to the table and take a seat.
“I have some things I wanted to discuss with you," I tell him as he pours a second drink and sets it in front of me.
“Anything you need," he says, taking a seat on the opposite end of the table.
I hadn't thought of a way to word my questions gracefully so I just blurt the first one out.
“Do you know who would try to kill you?" I say. “Any enemies that are just craving your blood?"
He smiles and leans back in his chair. “If I knew that, I wouldn't need you. Would I, Hera?"
Sly, sexy bastard.
“Unhelpful," I respond.
He chuckles. “I'm the king. Kings have many enemies. Not to mention, I'm also an Alpha. While packs are loyal and like family, there are as many politics in that as at court."
Right…pack, wolves, wolf-king. Almost forgot.
I guess I needed to play along to find our culprit.
“Tell me about your pack," I say.
He raises a brow. “I thought you didn't believe me."
“I don't, but if you believe it, it will help me understand any motives."
“Mmm, alright. The position of Alpha works similarly to kings and queens. Alphas are usually passed from parent to child. My father was Alpha before me just as it will be passed to any heirs I may have." He pauses, looking at me with a masked expression. “My Beta, Theodore, is my second. Think of him as my best friend…who would also sacrifice his life to protect me."
“Charming," I mutter.
“The Alpha's word is something the pack takes seriously. It goes deeper than royal seniority. If I needed to, I could force them to obey. But that's something to be used in emergencies and for the safety of the pack."
Makes sense.
“What if someone doesn't like you as Alpha?" I ask.
He shrugs. “They can steal my position, just like the throne. They'd have to kill me, though. Usually, the repercussions if they fail outweigh any ambition."
There's an admirable fondness in his voice when he talks about them. I can understand that— it's like family. I wouldn't rule them out, though. It sounds like being Alpha has its perks. And an Alpha king? Ruler of their pack and the kingdom? Double whammy.
“And your brother? He's never been jealous of your position?" I ask. I liked Sebastian. He seemed like someone whose upfront and honest, which seems a rare trait to have at court.
Ambrose scoffs. “Sebastian doesn't have any ambition for my throne or my position as Alpha. He's always been happy living his life with the freedoms that I'm not granted."
Oh, so sounds like he's a f*ck boy that gets away with whatever he wants.
Seems about right.
“Anyone else? Think someone who would have a reason to harm you," I press.
He shakes his head. “I'm a relatively loved king, Hera."
“Says the king that has a mark on his head," I respond.
He laughs. “Touché."
There is a long silence while I contemplate what I need to ask next. If the king is truly unaware of any bold enemies, it means this enemy hides in the shadows behind flattery and friendship. It could be anyone Ambrose calls a friend.
This was going to be harder than I thought.
“Can I get a list of everyone staying here at the palace? Including everyone in your pack, too."
He nods. “Is that all?"
“For now," I smirk at him. For a person who is aware someone is out to kill him, he's disturbingly calm.
Ambrose stands and moves closer, his eyes never leaving mine. He comes to stand in front of me and offers me his hand.
I lift my brow before placing my hand in his. There are instant sparks that shoot up my arm but I keep my face blank with my eyes glued to his. He pulls me up from my seat in a swift movement landing me square against his chest.
He smiles down at me.
“Let's go for a walk."
I nod absently, letting him quietly lead me from the room. We walk through the halls in silence, my arm hooked to his. I try not to focus on his warmth or the strong muscles hidden beneath the very thin piece of fabric.
Ambrose doesn't say anything, and I'm perfectly content walking in silence.
I'm not sure where to start with this job. He's right on one thing: he's the king. He has an endless amount of enemies that would want his throne. The goal would be to weed out the people bold enough to try something.
I guess I could start with Lucas. He had never revealed his contact to me in the past, but I'd never asked. If I could find the contact, I could get closer to the mastermind.
“You look like you're thinking hard on something," Ambrose says to me, jarring me from my thoughts.
“A trait I'm sure not a lot of women share around here," I reply.
He laughs, the sound making me shudder.
“You are delightfully refreshing, Hera," he says. “Tell me more about you."
Where would I even start?
“What do you want to know?" I say instead.
“Who are your parents?"
“Don't know. They disappeared when I was thirteen. Left me to take care of my little sister. It's been her and me since."
“Is that what led you to become an assassin?" Ambrose says.
“Eventually, yes."
He's quiet for a moment. “I'm sure you're an incredible sister."
For some reason, that comment makes me smile, my chest swelling with pride. I was forced into this life by our parents. There was no time to be a kid and enjoy my teenage years. I woke up one morning to find them gone and was thrown into the responsibility of keeping us alive. Some days it was hard to get up and keep moving. Althea kept me going.
“She's welcome to come here." The statement makes me stop.
Ambrose turns toward me and smiles. “She would be safe here, Hera."
For some reason, I believe him.
“Trying to seduce me with kindness?" I say jokingly.
“Is it working?"
I laugh. The king was many things and unapologetically himself was definitely one of those things. Unfortunately for me, I found that trait irresistibly sexy.
Ambrose is smiling at me. “You have a beautiful laugh, Hera." He lifts his hand to push a lock of hair behind my ear. “I'd like to hear more of it."
I swat his hand away. “Now you're just laying it on thick," I say, but I can't swallow the smile that's crept onto my face.
We walk in silence back to my room. He hesitates at the door. I have the feeling he wants to say something but is holding back. Before I can ask, he takes my hand and kisses it softly.
“Goodnight, Hera."
“Goodnight, Your Majesty," I respond quietly. I watch him walk back down the hall before opening the door and stepping inside.
Stay focused, Hera. You have a killer to find. Don't get distracted by a pretty face and large biceps…and probably abs…and really, hot shoulders…
I shake the thoughts from my head. Focus!
I walk over to the desk in my room, grabbing a parchment and quill. I quickly scribble down a note to Lucas:
We need to talk. Meet at the bar tomorrow at noon.
-H
I summon the maid and hand her the letter. I fall into bed, closing my eyes, and hoping tomorrow would yield more answers.