The Secret Princess. Rachelle McCalla

play stupid with me. Now that I’ve got you, we’re going to go wake up the king. He needs to know what you two have been up to.”

      Across the room, Bertie’s eyes widened and he made desperate noises with his throat, but his bonds held him tight. He couldn’t help her.

      With Omar’s grip digging into her shoulder, Evelyn had no choice but to go back up the stairs as he guided her. King Garren always hated bad news. But more than that, he hated being awakened in the middle of the night.

      She was a little surprised that he hadn’t made good on his threat of marrying her to Omar already, though he’d muttered something once about political usefulness, which made her suspect the cunning king hoped to find a match for her that would benefit him more. After all, as the king’s granddaughter, she could technically be considered a princess—but that was only if the king acknowledged her. As always, it would come down to whatever fit his schemes.

      But even her grandfather’s craftiness couldn’t compete with his anger.

      Evelyn turned at the top of the stairs, headed in the direction in which Omar pointed her. She had no choice but to pray with her eyes wide open, watching for any chance to escape. Even as she did so, she prayed silently that Prince Luke would make haste. If her grandfather sent a party after him on horseback, the Lydian prince would need a solid head start to make good his escape.