Page 47 of The Royal Art of Revenge

I laugh, finally relaxing a little. “Well, I’m glad for your extensive network of spies.”

“I prefer to refer to them as researchers,” Alec says, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He can call them what he wants, but they’re still spies at the end of the days. Spies that benefit the Royal Family, along with everything else he does for us.

If Oscar is the brains, then Alec is the muscle.

Where Oscar moves in the light as my right hand, Alec is my left one, dancing through the shadows.

If there’s something to be uncovered in the Sinclair house, he’ll have it in front of me before I can blink.

“How long have I got?”

I meet his dark gaze. “She’s given me a week to answer her.”

He snorts.

“So, you’ve got less than that. But keep your eyes on them even after that. I want to know everything that happens in that house, from what time they wake up to how many leftovers there are at dinner.”

“Understood.”

“Get eyes on Harriet, too.”

Oscar pauses. “You’re going to have someone watch her?”

“No.” I look at them both, taking a moment to meet both of their gazes. “I don’t want her watched. I want her protected.”

“As you wish, Your Royal Highness,” Alec says, pulling a cigarette out of the box and toying with it between his fingers. “I assume you don’t want her to know.”

“No. Keep it secret.”

A tiny smile appears on his face. “And if something happens to her?”

I hold his gaze. “If something happens to her, Alec, the same thing will happen to you.”

The unlit cigarette stilled, pinched between his two fingers. “My, my. She must be special if you’re even threatening me.”

“I’m not playing around,” I say firmly. “I can’t protect her yet, so I’m trusting you to. If so much as a hair on her head is harmed, I will take all of yours. For every scrape or cut she gets, you’ll feel it tenfold.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” he replies, his gaze intense. “Nothing will happen to her. You have my word.”

***

“Well?”

Alec throws a manila envelope on the table between us. “She’s something, that’s for sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I grab the envelope and slide out the singular sheet of paper inside it. It’s the world’s shortest report with absolutely zero information in. “What the fuck is this?”

“I was trying to type it up when you demanded I get my arse over here, so here I am.” He holds his hands out. “Who am I to defy an order from my esteemed crown prince?”

I throw the almost blank sheet of paper down and stare at him. “Will you get on with it?”

Alec chuckles, but it quickly dies when he meets my gaze. “Her life is a mixed bag. She’s not treated badly, but she’s not treated particularly well, either. There’s a marked difference between her and Jasmine. It seems Harriet isn’t the only one sworn to secrecy about her identity—my girl sent me the copies of the contracts and agreements she had to sign, and they’re fucking extensive. Moreso than the ones I give my… researchers.”

I frown. “They’re going to great lengths to keep her secret. It’s a wonder they let her out of the house at all.”

“It would be Rosalyn’s preference not to, but it seems she’s aware that Harriet can and will use her true identity if she doesn’t get what she wants.” He pauses. “Her relationship with Rosalyn and Jasmine is volatile at best. They despise Harriet, and she, them. William seems unaware of the tension between the women in his family. That, or he’s being wilfully ignorant.”