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  Water heaters hummed around him as the musty smell of paint invaded his senses. Caged light bulbs shined down on him with a dull yellow light as the hallway stretched in front of him, dotted with carts of towels, mop buckets, and the occasional bottle of toilet bowl cleaner. Damon ought to grab one of those and force Patrick to drink it, but swallowed and walked past it before he could think twice. He didn't need to go to prison himself for murder right now.

  Florescent light shined from behind a steel door at the end of the hallway. The prison area. Damon yanked the door open and let it bang against the wall, hoping that Patrick could hear it. He probably could, because nobody else was in the prison area, not even the guards. The steel bars to the three cells shined under the harsh light. Patrick stood behind the bars of the first one, staring at him with a pair of bloodshot eyes that peeked out from under a mess of brown hair. Something about that look made the anger inside him freeze and morph into cold dread.

  “Are you here to free me?” Patrick asked. A grin crept up his face, showing a pair of teeth that seemed brighter than usual.

  “Now why should I do that?” Damon asked, letting his fists clench up again. “You tried to kill me, and you’re after my future wife." He stressed the words future wife and watched Patrick flinch at the sound of it. "She's in bed having nightmares because of you. Or is that what you wanted? To screw with her emotions? You said you wanted that capability, right?"

  Patrick lurched forward and gripped the bars so tight that every drop of blood vanished from his knuckles. A pair of bloodshot eyes slowly turned up to face him. “We’re going to be family soon,” Patrick said. “That’s why you should release me. There's so much you don't know...future king.” Acid tinged his words as they rolled off his tongue.

  Damon rubbed his hands through his hair and fought the urge to back up. This bastard couldn’t be trusted. There was no way anybody, even his own family, could trust him ever again. It was in his eyes.

  “Guess what? Family doesn’t kill future family members,” Damon said. "Sure didn't apply to me, did it? And I'm going to make sure of that. Our conversation earlier—you know, the one about your Ariel ancestor and how proud you are of her? I think I'll make sure Kiki's father knows all about that."

  The former Royal General's eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the words. Patrick had been counting on being gone after tonight, and now there was no safety from his secrets. He slammed against the bars so hard they rattled, reaching for Damon, but he backed out of the way in time to leave Patrick's fingers grasping for a shirt that wasn't there.

  Damon nodded. "I've really got to take off now. Got some things to tell the King about."

  "No!"

  This was going too well. Damon spotted the keys hanging in the guard booth. He opened the glass door, seized them, and twirled them in front of the former Royal General.

  "You don't even have any noble blood," Patrick growled. "There's no reason you should be marrying Kiki. Her parents let you live here because they felt sorry for you."

  Damon's grip tightened on the keys as he hung them back up. "Not true," he said, gritting his teeth. "I love Kiki. That's why. She's the one who wanted me here."

  Patrick's curses echoing down the hall and following him back to the stairwell were the best sounds he'd heard in a long time.

  * * * * *

  As soon as Patrick's insults and profanity vanished into the background behind him, Damon heard a pair of angry voices coming his way from somewhere in the ballroom hallway. They got louder by the second. He looked around, but the ballroom door was shut and locked, and the plant nearby was nowhere near big enough to hide behind. Yes, he needed to talk to the King, but when the Queen was in a bad mood, it was best to stay out of the way. Any of the service personnel could tell you that.

  “I can't believe this,” Dawn shouted, rounding the curve and heading straight for him. “Patrick barged into Kiki's room?”

  “Yes,” the King said. He took a deep breath. “I know he's your brother, but I also believe he betrayed us all by not doing his job and letting this happen." He pointed out the window as he walked beside his wife, cape flowing behind him. The sound of another helicopter droned off in the distance.

  “What else did he try to do?” Dawn said, her voice rising. “You realize the press will be all over this, right? My family's had enough bad press over the years.”

  “I do realize this. I will be taking it up with Patrick.”

  Damon cringed as the royal couple closed the distance. They hadn't spotted him yet.

  Dawn stopped. “Tell me. What else did he try to do when he barged in on Kiki and Damon?” Her voice trembled like she already knew the answer.

  The King stopped and took her arms. He was about to tell her the truth, and the poor woman didn't need that right now. It could wait until morning. It was evident in the lines on both their faces.

  "Hey," Damon said.

  They both jumped and whirled around to face him.

  “You probably heard everything, didn’t you?” Morris asked. His eyebrows relaxed with relief.

  “No, not much. Can I talk to you?"

  The King nodded to Dawn. "Can you excuse us for a moment?"

  Dawn didn't argue. "I'm going down to see Patrick." She marched past him and towards the custodians' stairwell.

  Damon almost called after her, but the King put a hand on his shoulder.

  "She'll be fine," he said. "She's gotten along with her brother fairly well for years, now. It's been a long time since they had problems. Let's step this way."

  He unlocked the ballroom and led him inside. The place was a mess. The refreshments tables were still spread out everywhere, covered in food going cold. Dusty footprints covered the floor, leftover from the palace guards running through when the alarms were going off.

  “Damon…what else is there?” the King asked. His eyes softened a bit, like his own father's had back before that Lateine Border Skirmish.

  Damon looked away. He had to tell him now, or else even more problems would come to haunt him.

  "I think Patrick's up to more than we think," Damon said. "I had a conversation with him earlier in the study." He went on to describe Patrick's fascination with Emoshis and their ability to manipulate the emotions of others, and his sick fascination with his murderous ancestor. "I think he may have been looking for a way to become one, so he can use that power against me and Kiki. He hasn't been hanging around Meredith, has he?"

  The King shook his head. "Not that I'm aware. I doubt Meredith would give him any of her blood. She's not like that and would never hurt anybody, or let anyone else hurt anybody. I think she could defend herself if Patrick tried to force her."

  Damon nodded, letting his shoulders slump. That was good. All Meredith had to do was make Patrick feel a good burst of terror if he tried to attack her. He'd deserve it.

  “There is no way Patrick can return to the position of Royal General," Morris said, facing Damon. The bags under his eyes disappeared a little. “I have been thinking about this tonight, and I know it must be. You and Kiki were both the best of your class at the Military Academy. You proved yourself out there tonight, protecting my daughter. I hereby crown you Prince of Keilara and award you the title of Royal General.”

  Damon's body moved before he could react, bowing before the king in the trashed ballroom. He rose back up, the wind knocked out of him. He knew he'd be a prince eventually—it came with the marriage, but this early? "You're serious?"

  The King nodded. "I was planning to wait until after the marriage, but things have changed. After all, you'll both inherit the country someday."

  Patrick was sure to be unhappy about this, too, but hey, he deserved it. Even in his shock, Damon couldn't help but imagine Patrick as an Emoshi, torturing humans through emotion manipulation, using it against him and maybe even Kiki to get what he wanted. It was a nightmare waiting to happen.

  Chapter Five

  August 20th, 2017

  The s
un rose an hour later, shedding light on a now-separated city. Barriers now blocked off every street to the Industrial District, shining in the orange light and topped with barbed wire. Black-and-red uniformed guards stood behind the barriers, ready to open fire on anyone who tried to approach. Delainian helicopters circled the skies above the factories, dwarfing the Keilaran ones hovering around the palace not too far away. Clearly, Darren Storm had put a lot of funding into his weapons program in addition to his biological experiments on his own people. The two together seemed like an unstoppable foe, and the military seemed to know that, too. None of the Keilaran helicopters, jeeps, or ground troops approached the barriers, though more of them had started gathering around the palace. Nobody wanted to make a move until they knew what they were dealing with.

  Ashley Maxwell found it easy to navigate the streets from her suburb two miles from the palace. Nobody was out. After the emergency broadcast last night, the schools had closed down along with almost every business in the city. Even the normal traffic sounds from downtown were absent, and all airline traffic had been diverted to other airports in the area. A lot of cars were missing from their driveways, too—it seemed like a lot of people had taken off for the country in the middle of the night.

  But not her. With her husband sitting down in the palace jail, she wasn't going anywhere. What was she supposed to tell her daughter if he didn't come back? It had been hard enough hiding his desperate phone call from her last night.

  Honey, I'm sitting in here for crimes I didn't commit. They must have confused me for someone else during the attack. Please, I need you to help get me out before Amber finds out I'm here. Patrick's words swirled through her head, unreal, like a bad dream. Her husband wouldn't try to shoot a civilian. How could anyone think that? He was Royal General. A Keilaran in high standing. But he also had a temper and loved to argue, especially with her lately, and he was out of the house more and more lately. Could he have done something she had no way of knowing about?

  An army jeep crawled past her as she turned onto Royal Avenue. Green-uniformed soldiers formed rings around the streetlights as if they were unsure what to do next. Nobody seemed to know what to do next, or even what Darren Storm wanted.

  The gray palace towered into the sky above her as she approached, its round windows peeking into the clouds as if watching for Delainian helicopters. Ashley passed through the tall gates and past the guards who were stationed there. Neither of them tried to stop her. Everyone knew she was the wife of the Royal General, and why she was there, too.

  The castle was still brewing with frustration and confusion. Servants milled around, bags under their eyes, trying to clean up a mess in the ballroom. Others toiled in the kitchen, likely there to help feed all the soldiers. Most of them stepped out of her way as she approached. Oh, they knew why she was here, all right.

  "Where's King Morris?" she asked an old butler who was passing by, pushing a cart of dirty, crusty dishes. No doubt this had to do with their old rivalry. Patrick hadn't wanted his sister to marry into a family who'd helped kill thousands of Emoshis decades ago—he'd told her that lots of times—and the two seemed to have had an uneasy truce since then. It had something to do with that, she was sure.

  The butler shook his head. "I can't help you, Ma'am."

  Ashley stormed on down the hall. She hated being called Ma'am. It made her feel old. “King Morris! Where are you?”

  After several minutes of yelling and walking up and down the crowded halls, she got an answer. The King came out of the glass doors of the Meeting Hall, a green-uniformed Damon right behind him. His gaze landed on her, worry lines deepening around his eyes.

  “What is it, Ashley?” he asked. The tone of this voice told her he already knew the answer. "Oh. Ashley, I am so s--"

  “I got a call from my husband, this morning. Is it true that he's sitting in a jail cell? My husband? Why is that?”

  “Oh,” Morris said as a maid rushed past him. He swallowed. "Ashley, this won't be easy to hear. Your husband seems to have been hiding some things from you." The King studied the floor. "He’s being charged with sexual harassment.”

  “Sexual harassment!” She interrupted as he opened his mouth to continue. “He’s in prison for that?” Her husband had always been faithful to her—hadn't he? Her heart started to race with panic. He did seem to be trying to avoid her lately, staying out extra late, not coming home for days at a time, being shut in his study a lot...No! She didn't want to believe it. Had he gone off chasing after one of the maids or something, not having her around for all those long hours?

  “You didn’t let me finish,” the King said. He reached out and placed a tired hand on her shoulder. “He’s being charged with sexual harassment against the crown, and an attempted murder against a potential royal leader. I'm truly sorry for you and your daughter. I really am.”

  The hallway seemed to close in at the words, and the hubbub of the castle to get louder and louder in her ears, until everything seemed ready to pop.

  “What?” Ashley said. Her voice felt like it was drying up in her throat. Patrick was quick to anger, but this? "Who was involved in this?”

  “He attempted to murder now-Prince Damon, and made many sexual attempts on Princess Kiki. I only became fully aware of the situation yesterday, and he attempted to murder Damon right before the attack happened, after he had proposed to her."

  Damon stared at her sadly. "It's true."

  Ashley's insides felt crushed. The man she had married had changed, turned into something else, maybe from the war. The sad look in the King's eyes told her that he wasn't lying. Patrick...going after his niece? A maid was one thing, but this was beyond sickening. She couldn't tolerate this, wouldn't tolerate this. "I can't...I can't..." Her mouth couldn't form the words.

  The King shuffled some papers in his hand. "I spoke with Dawn yesterday about this. Apparently, this isn't the first time he's done this. We now know the truth about why Patrick didn't want us to marry."

  Ashley took a step back as if a physical blow had hit her. "You mean...he was getting all googly-eyed for his own sister?"

  Neither King Morris nor Damon said anything. The silence was all the answer she needed.

  Finally, after the silence grew long and felt ready to explode, the King handed her the bundle of papers. "I knew I would see you today, Ashley. I had one of the servants print these out for you. I assumed you would want them."

  Numb, Ashley took the packet in her hand. “Divorce papers?”

  "We must think of your daughter, and you," he continued. "I'm worried about the safety of you both. I urge you to file for divorce since I have no idea how long his trial may last. It could last for a year, maybe two at most. If you find someone you want to marry, I want you to have that ability to go through with it instead of being stuck in this rotten marriage. Also, since Patrick was stripped of his title, you cannot receive benefits from him, but I will allow you and Amber to move into the palace if you have nowhere else to go. I will still consider you part of the Royal Family."

  Ashley's vision blurred as every emotion rose up inside of her, taking up everything, as her nightmare of a marriage came to an end. "Where is he? Patrick?"

  "In the basement jail. I'd prefer you to sit down for a while before you confront him. Also, I would like to send a guard down with you when you're ready."

  Ashley nodded. "Okay." He was going to sign the papers today, and if he got off easy on the trial, he sure wasn't going to get off easy with her.

  * * * * *

  Kiki slipped her hand into Damon's, joining her father in front of the Meeting Hall. She hadn't bothered to dress in royal attire today, not with the war going on, and it was far too hot outside to even wear her cammo pants. Instead, her black tank top and tan shorts sufficed, and they worked well with her gun belt.

  “What do we discuss first, now that we're all here?” Damon asked. He looked so strange in his new Royal General uniform, already with a Medal of Fortitude on his chest
for rushing out to fight the Delainians last night. Kiki's own medal poked into the skin of her chest, but she didn't have a uniform to attach it to.

  “The trial of Patrick Maxwell,” Morris said, keeping his voice low so that none of the passing personnel could hear. He gestured to Ashley, who stood defiantly against the wall, a packet of papers in her hand. “She has already heard about the events, and is more than likely to divorce him because of this--" he paused as she nodded--"and I am suspecting that someone on our side may have made this attack easy for the Delainians. I have been discussing this possibility with our new Royal General. We are still trying to contact Darren Storm to find out what he wants from us."

  Ashley seemed not to have heard. She stared hard at the glass door, as if expecting Patrick to come out of it any second. He'd been in and out of there lots of times, maybe thousands of times. This had to be extremely hard for her to believe that her husband would lie to her and have an affair, let alone try to murder someone. The fact that she'd had a child with him only made it worse. Kiki almost wanted to reach out and wrap her in a hug. "Ashley, I'm so--"

  An explosion from below made the walls shake as it roared through the building.

  Kiki jumped, breaking Damon's handhold and pinning up against the wall. Damon spun around, searching for the source. Ashley screamed and dove through the doorway of the Meeting Hall, papers flying.

  "What--" her father started.

  The explosion died down a second later, leaving frozen personnel and guards in it wake.

  “Where did that come from?" Damon asked.

  "Below us. Where else?" Kiki's heart raced in her chest. Were the Delainians invading the palace? They couldn't be. The army would've noticed them and started shooting, and they would've heard that. At least, the alarms would have gone off. "I...I think it came from the basement."

  Kiki stared at her father's wide-eyed expression, then Damon's.