The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 54

**RECAP TIME!

After striking a bargain with the usurper queen Dulciana, Thomas has returned to Pretania. To save Beatriz' life, he must somehow secure an army for Dulciana. But helping Dulciana means dooming Frederico and his rebels, something Beatriz would never forgive him for.

Distracted by his desperation to save Beatriz, Thomas has found himself cornered by Adelaide, who has maneuvered him into declaring her as his betrothed in exchange for her silence to Dulciana about his plot to double cross the false Ardalonian Queen. Except that plot has just been foiled by Thomas's father, the king of Pretania, who has elected to not send help to Ardalone for either Dulciana or Frederico. This is where we now find Thomas, reeling after the news that no one seems to want to help him...**

"Let's get you back to your room," Anne was saying, through the haze of my tears. Her small hands tugged at my arms, my shoulders, anything to get me to rise.

"I can't," I managed, thinking of Nisha waiting there. Dreading what she would do if she saw me like this. If she learned how badly I'd failed.

"Mine, then," Anne said sternly, before leaning down to whisper, "You can't be seen like this. Not when we don't know who else..."

She trailed off, and suddenly the servants trying to be inconspicuous as they bustled around us seemed to take up all the air in the hallway. So many watching eyes, ready to report back to some mystery ally of Dulciana's we still hadn't discovered.

I dashed a sleeve across my eyes, shoved to my feet, and stalked away towards Anne's room. She had to run to catch up to me, and was already ringing her call bell while I threw open a window to suck in some cold morning air. The bite of Highcastle's dewy morning slapped some sense back into me. The tracks of my tears chilled, then dried.

If Father wouldn't help, then I'd find someone who would. I'd bring whatever troops I could muster, and hope they would be enough for Dulciana. Hell, perhaps I'd go so far as to say that I wanted to overthrow my own Father's throne with her help. That might really cement us as allies.

But none of that would help Frederico. And with Vareinne and Germania allied against him, he didn't stand a chance. It wouldn't matter if I saved Beatriz if his rebellion went down in flames. If her brother died fighting for his country, she'd never forgive me. She'd probably want to go down alongside him, not live a cushy life in Highcastle's palace, wearing fancy dresses and going to operas.

My stomach hollowed out, dread liquefying my insides. I suppose I hadn't really thought about what might happen if I ever managed to free Beatriz. Would she really board a ship and sail back here with me, while her brother's troops needed all the help they could get? I thought of her pinning me to the ground with her knife when I'd gotten in her way once before.

She wouldn't run from her brother's fight. She'd run towards it. The only way to bring her here, to safety, would be to abscond with her very much against her will. I'd have to shackle her and drag her back, which I could never bear to do because she'd never forgive me.

I hadn't realized I was pacing until Anne materialized in front of me with a steaming cup of tea.

"Drink. And sit." She pointed to one of her armchairs.

I accepted the tea but refused the seat. My nerves wouldn't let me settle, so I kept pacing.

"He won't help," I managed finally, when she'd sent her maid back out on some other errand and then sat down to watch me pace, eyes wide with concern.

"Father?"

"He prefers to do nothing. To let Ardalone and Vareinne and Germania sort it all out on their own."