The Secret King

“I think the Princess of Acacia is playing a dangerous game.”

“I don’t play games,” Serena replied.

“Asking me to meet you here?” Casimir said. “If I weren’t more trusting of you, I would think this was a trap.”

“How could this possibly be a trap?”

“I think you know how the king and his mother would respond to finding us alone in the palace. It would call your pending engagement into question.”

“We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Katarina seems to believe my very presence is wrong,” Casimir said.

“She knows her son and I don’t have a relationship. Any male is a threat to the little that we do have.”

Casimir’s eyes traced from her eyes to her lips. “Do you want to make me a real threat to him?”

He was asking if she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it. Desperately.

* * *

Be sure to check out the next books in this series.

Conspiracy Against the Crown: Ally or foe? No one can tell in this fight for power…and love.

The Secret King

C.J. Miller

C.J. MILLER loves to hear from her readers and can be contacted through her website, cj-miller.com. She lives in Maryland with her husband, son and daughter. C.J. believes in first loves, second chances and happily-ever-after.

To my brother, Dr. Andy.

Your sense of humor cheers me on my darkest days, your love of adventure inspires me and your unending support means the world. Love you, buddy.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Casimir felt the pulse of power in the ballroom of the Acacian castle. Three influential leaders, each with their axes to grind, were setting problems aside tonight in a public display of unity that hadn’t been witnessed in the past twenty years. The king of Acacia was turning sixty and the night was meant for frivolity.

Too bad one of the kings would die tonight by Casimir’s hand. He hated to ruin the party for the king of Acacia, but attacking the king of Rizari away from his palace made the logistics much simpler.

With the president of Icarus’s help, Casimir had smuggled his weapons into the room. He was ready. He had mentally run the plan dozens of times. He had trained. He would do what needed to be done, shed his fake identity for good and he would disappear, taking asylum in Icarus.

Casimir was careful not to touch the gun at his side, a habit he’d formed in the military to ensure it was in place. The knife in its sheath at his hip brushed against his pants. He did nothing to call attention to himself. In addition to the three leaders, the room was filled with security—each of the king’s guards and the president’s servicemen, all armed to the teeth.

Danae, the eldest princess of Acacia had her guards close as well. She was the heir to the throne, and watching her, Casimir understood why she was being courted by the king of Rizari. Princess Danae looked like a woman who liked to have fun, but who couldn’t organize her closet, much less a country. Her brunette curls bounced as she laughed and threw her head back in delight.

The younger princess of Acacia, Serena, was standing alone on the perimeter of the party. Unlike her sister’s vibrant, fanciful energy, Serena had a quiet, serious beauty about her. Her blond hair hung around her shoulders and she looked almost ethereal in a light blue gown. She sipped her glass of wine and watched the party with little change in her expression. No one spoke to her. She had to be bored. Casimir had been studying King Warrington’s social circles, and he found her behavior curious, very different from what he had experienced in Rizari. To blend in to the royal social circle, extraversion was critical.

Why was the princess so removed? He knew little about the king and princesses of Acacia. They didn’t factor into his plan, except that he was using their castle to exact his revenge. He would send an anonymous note of apology once he’d returned to Icarus and was safe in his new life, revenge complete. Perhaps then his soul would be quiet and peaceful.

“She is beautiful, no?” Demetrius DeSante said. The president of Icarus, and his good friend, spoke softly. Though DeSante and Casimir were careful not to give away how close they were, especially in regard to this conspiracy, DeSante had been making the rounds through the ballroom, talking to everyone with a title or a fortune. Casimir was pretending to have the latter.

Though DeSante had been accused of many bad things, he was a good leader and one of his best qualities was his charisma. He could talk anyone into doing what he wanted. It was another way he was dangerous.

The lights flickered and then went out.

“Is this your plan? You’re doing this now?” DeSante’s voice in his ear.

The blackout was not part of his plan. Casimir was nowhere near King Warrington of Rizari. Casimir could only see by candlelight in the darkened room. Acacia was plagued by energy distribution problems. “Not my plan. Rolling blackouts—”