The Regent's False Heir

"Drag her out. Tear her apart. Even death will not spare her!"

Nora woke with the king's voice still filling her head. She sat up, breath caught painfully in her chest, and found the familiar bed curtains instead of a throne room.

Another nightmare. Months in this body, and she still dreamed of discovery.

In her first life, she had been an American assassin in the twenty-first century. Here, in an impossible version of America where an Atlantic kingdom held court in Newport, she was the dead soldier Daniel Ward's supposedly male heir.

The girl whose body she occupied had ended her life under the strain.

Nora understood why. At twenty, she was old enough to marry, but had never been allowed to live openly as herself.

She had nearly mastered even the awkward business of pretending to urinate standing up. Apparently that was easier than sleeping peacefully.

A servant knocked. "Master Noah? Lord Bell's grandson is waiting."

Of course. Being a man was only half the performance. Being a useless young wastrel was the other half.

Miles Bell's idea of broadening her horizons was a brothel. He stood outside the gilded sign of the Swan House, visibly pleased with himself.

"This is what you meant by showing me the world?" Nora asked.

"Excellent, isn't it?"

"Excellent. Absolutely excellent."

He slung an arm over her shoulders. "See? We're meant to be friends. I'm disreputable, you're disreputable. Come on. Shall we look inside?"

The street changed before she could answer. A gust rattled the hanging signs. People scattered, dragging children into doorways and abandoning their stalls.

"The regent! Get out of the way!"

A man pulled his companion behind a wall. "Offend Blackwell and losing your whole family is the gentle outcome. He'll dig up your ancestors so you can have a reunion before he kills you."

Miles dropped to his knees. Nora followed him without hesitation. Independence and dignity were splendid American principles. She would practice them on a day when they were less likely to get her killed.

A covered royal litter stopped. Adrian Blackwell stepped down, tall and beautifully dressed, with the pale, still face of someone whose body was ill and whose temper needed no help from illness.

"Miles Bell pays his respects, Your Highness," Miles said.

"Noah Ward, Your Highness." Nora kept her head low.

"Get up."

They obeyed. Adrian walked past them, then stopped.

"You are Daniel Ward's son?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Look at me."

Nora lifted her face. That line belonged in a costume drama about choosing a bride. Unfortunately, this was no television set.

He was even better looking up close. Blackwell alone among the kingdom's princes had been born outside its ruling dynasty; royal adoption and military command had made him the king's brother in rank. Even the king's sons feared him. Rumor said he was incapable of fathering children, and treated everyone viciously because of it.

Adrian studied the fine-featured young man before him. Daniel had been so upright. Producing a shameless son like this was an unexpected achievement.

"I've embarrassed my father," Nora ventured into the silence.

Adrian gave a cold little sound and continued toward the brothel.

"Let's go," Miles whispered.

An assassin flew through the air and struck the paving stones at their feet. Blood spilled from his mouth. He did not move again.

On the steps, Adrian calmly wiped his fingers with a handkerchief and dropped it, disgusted.

Miles hauled Nora into an alley. They crouched behind crates until they could breathe.

"Was he here to admire the scenery?" she asked.

"Scenery? He likes men and women. Listen, with your looks, keep away from him." Miles touched his own cheek. "I should, too."

"What if he takes us both home?" Nora asked. "We'd end up sharing a husband."

For one absurd instant she pictured them in dresses, roses between their teeth, wrestling over Adrian on a couch.

Miles caught her shoulders with solemn conviction. "If that happens, I get to be the principal spouse."

Wonderful. She had not even been abducted yet and had already been demoted.

They fled home.

That night Nora removed the ornaments from her tied-back hair. She crushed a rose between her fingers.

Secrets had limits. Marriage would expose hers. She needed to leave Newport—or appear to die, then live somewhere no one knew her.

Ben, her young adult valet, burst into the room.

"Master Noah! The king is choosing a consort for the regent!"

Nora turned, the ruined rose still in her hand.