The door behind us explodes inward, destroyed by flame. Beyond, the ballroom is black with smoke. An explosion. “Cal—” I try to squirm away from Lucas, to run back the way we came, but he throws me back. “Lucas, we have to help him!” “Trust me, a bomb won’t bother the prince,” he growls, moving me forward. “A bomb?” That wasn’t part of the plan. “Was that a bomb?” Lucas draws back from me, positively shaking in anger. “You saw that bloody red scarf. This is the Scarlet Guard and that”—he points back to the ballroom, still dark and burning—“that is who they are.” “This doesn’t make sense,” I
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