Virgin Bride(187)

Finally, the men were loaded. More ministers began to filter out of the estate house to watch the show. The men began to file into their trucks and then the engines roared to life.

“Impressive, right?” someone said on my right.

I looked over. Richter Johansson smiled at me. “I guess so,” I said.

“Maybe not as impressive as the old days, true. But still, all this metal and technology, it’s amazing what we can do now.”

“Do you ever wish you were a young man again riding off to war?” I asked him.

He laughed. “Not in the slightest, Your Highness, and neither should you. War is for those who can’t get out of it.”

I frowned at that but said nothing. The trucks began to roll out, and the people clapped politely.

Richter patted my shoulder. “Don’t feel down, Your Highness. You’re doing very well, all things considered.”

“Thank you, Richter.”

He nodded and then left.

I stood there alone, watching the trucks pull out into the distance. I felt a strange pang in my stomach, but I couldn’t identify it.

As I stood there, Maximillian came walking quickly up to me from the house. “Your Highness,” he said.

“What’s up, Max?”

“Your Highness, it’s about Nicolai Corvin.”

I sighed. “What now? I thought he had been cleared?”

Max’s expression was stressed and tense. “He was, but . . . well, you’ll find this hard to believe.”

“Spit it out, Max.”

“When did Nicolai join the ministers?”

“Three years ago,” I said. “He’s a young man, and apparently he came out of nowhere.”

“Yes, three years ago. Well, we went back through the records, and we found something.”

“Out with it.”

“Nicolai Corvin died of lung cancer four years ago.” Max held up a photograph of an old, frail man. “This is him.”

I stared at the photograph. “That can’t be right.”

“We don’t know who the man who claims to be Nicolai Corvin is, but he is definitely an imposter. We cleared him because Corvin’s name is clean, but that man is anything but.”

“Fuck,” I said. “Find him. Detain him.”

“Already sent men looking.”

I felt another twisting, stressful jolt in my core and began to walk slowly back toward the house. Bryce had been at the party last night, and my servants had told me that they saw her speaking with Corvin. Afterward, she left the dinner and never returned.

I had a horrible feeling. I walked quickly toward the house but couldn’t hold myself back. I began running, bursting in through the door, and took the stairs two at a time.

I careened down the hallway until I got to her room. The door was shut. I knocked and then turned the knob.

It wasn’t locked. It swung open easily. I went in and checked through her place.

It was completely empty.

Max came behind me a few second later, huffing and puffing. “Your Highness?” he asked, confused. “What’s happening?”

“Where is Bryce?” I asked him.

“I don’t know.”

“Find her. Now.”

“Very well.” He bowed and then left.

As I stood in the middle of Bryce’s room, I knew what had happened. I knew, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I didn’t want to admit that I could have missed this, that I could have fucked up so fucking badly.

I was holding out hope, but I knew it was past time for hope and time for more action.





31





Bryce





Jostling back and forth, I tried moving my hands, but they wouldn’t budge. Everything was thick and slow, a muddy mess.

My eyes were closed. I tried to open them, but they weren’t working. For a moment I panicked, until I realized I was wearing a blindfold.

Cold floor. Hum of an engine. Okay, I was in a vehicle of some kind.

I had clothes on. I didn’t remember getting dressed.

I tried to move and toppled over to the side. My feet were bound as well. I groaned, and at least I didn’t have a gag in my mouth.

What the hell had happened?

I remembered leaving the dinner. I remembered going into my room and taking off my dress. Why did I take off my dress?

I got into the shower. That’s right, I was showering.

Everything after that was a total blur.

I stretched again, trying to get upright, and groaned. My head was dizzy and painful, like an awful hangover mixed with vertigo.

“Don’t move,” a voice said in clear English. “Chloroform is a nasty drug. You’re probably feeling pretty awful right now.”

I knew that voice but couldn’t place it. I wanted to reply, but my tongue felt heavy and my words came out like a jumbled groan.