Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Hugo shook off those thoughts and stripped out of his filthy tuxedo. The white shirt had long ago yellowed under a mix of dirt and sweat. He’d be shocked if the garments could be saved. It would be better if they were burned, which made him sad for Mr. Booth. His creation was ruined.
Hugo sank into the water and groaned, his voice bouncing off the walls. Clean and warm at last. For the first ten minutes, he soaked in the water, letting the heat ease days of fear and tension. As soon as his fingers wrinkled, he grabbed a cake of soap and worked on scrubbing until his skin turned pink. He washed his hair three times. He would have gone for a fourth, but he feared creating a bald spot.
Squeaky clean and refreshed, Hugo stepped out of the bath, wrapped in a soft blue robe that matched the decor of his room. When he left the bathroom, he found a fresh pot of tea and some snacks waiting for him along with a note from Pepper that he’d return in three hours to help him dress for his dinner with the king.
That was enough time for Hugo to think of a plan to deal with the king and this entire tangled situation. He might not know much about international politics, but he was experienced in dealing with scheming brothers. King Victor was polite and kind to him right now, but this was likely all a ploy to use Hugo to better control Everand. He wasn’t sure such a thing would work, but he’d be damned if he’d let Everand be put in that painful position.
No, what he needed to do was get to the bottom of this old dispute. He’d heard the Branem side of the problem. Now he needed to hear Wulia’s point of view. There had to be a middle point in all this that would allow them to end this war. Preferably without taking yet more innocent lives.
The only thing he couldn’t figure out was how he was going to get anyone to listen to him.
Twenty-Five
The sun was sitting low in the sky when a servant and the ever-present pair of guards escorted Hugo through the castle. They walked down yet more beautifully decorated corridors, but they didn’t stop in a grand dining room like he’d expected with its long table filled with Wulian ministers, politicians, and aristocrats.
Two servants soundlessly opened a pair of frosted glass doors to reveal a modest-sized balcony. A table covered with a white cloth rested in the center. But there were only two chairs and two place settings. That couldn’t be right. Had the servants brought him to the wrong spot in the castle? This was too intimate. Too romantic.
As he was about to ask, he lifted his gaze beyond the table, and all the words flew from his brain. The balcony provided a perfect view of Onisa. Fading sunlight gilded the sleepy city while gas lamps popped on to chase away the encroaching shadows. Even from a distance, he could see little architectural differences between Onisa and Frostbourne. The buildings of Branem had intricate gingerbread wood trim, while Wulia’s stone buildings featured more iron and metalwork. Pine trees cradled the edges of the massive city in a warm embrace, making this vibrant capital seem like a magical secret.
“Oh, my word. How amazing,” Hugo whispered. He rushed forward to the balcony railing to get as clear a look as possible.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, definitely,” Hugo replied without thinking. “It’s not what I was imagining at all.” He ripped his eyes away to stare at the person who’d spoken to find King Victor standing a few feet away from him, a hint of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth.
“Oh, gods!” he gasped. “Your Highness—I mean, Your Majesty! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you—no! I mean I—” Hugo lurched back and threw his body into a deep bow to cover for the idiotic babbling that kept pouring out of his mouth, but a powerful hand caught his shoulder, stopping him sharply.
“Well, that answers that question,” the king muttered under his breath.
“What?” The word slipped out, and Hugo was once again cursing himself. He had absolutely no control over his tongue. If Wulian and Branem went to war, it would be because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
The firm hand holding his shoulder eased Hugo upright to face the king’s smirk.
“I was wondering if Captain Ryze’s assessment of you was wrong. That you weren’t really the prince’s fiancé, but a highly trained bodyguard or assassin who was merely disguised as a bumbling commoner to fool my guards. However, after saving you from nearly bashing your skull on the rim of that stone planter you didn’t even notice, I’m inclined to agree with Captain Ryze.”