I just got here.
Couldn’t her mother give her one afternoon? It had been four years since Renna had been there. Four years since she had left her comfortable home at Wellenbreck Farm for a fast-paced life at the New Hope Government Center. Four years since her mother had married the king of New Hope.
The PT’s hum grew louder, echoing off the thick trees. Renna had seconds before Mangum would arrive. She couldn’t really blame him. He was following the queen’s orders.
She blew out a breath in frustration and began swimming toward the dock when a sudden idea made her stop. If she was going to be dragged back to her mother, she might as well do it in style.
Renna grinned. She flipped onto her stomach, waiting until the PT’s sound was upon her, and then immersed her head underwater. She floated, careful not to move a muscle. She didn’t know how long it would take for Mangum to find her, but for the sake of a joke, she was willing to hold her breath as long as she could. After all, when faking her death by drowning, appearance was everything.
Poor Mangum. He’ll probably have a heart attack when he finds me.
2
Trev
Trev slowed his machine to a stop, his muscles relieved to have a break from driving. He had started the day in Dacoma. His father didn’t see any use in visiting the small, far-away cities in the outskirts of Albion borders. But Trev wanted to show every citizen that he cared for them. If Trev had to be forced onto a campaign tour, he would do it his own way. The tour was supposed to help him in the King Ruler election at the end of the year, but it was more than that to Trev. He wanted to get to know the people—their needs and struggles. How could he lead them, be their king, if he didn’t know them?
Trev kicked out the stand at the bottom of his PT, letting the weight of the motorized bike rest against it. He pulled his helmet off, hanging it on the machine’s handlebars. His body ached everywhere from straddling the leather seat for so many miles. Even his fingers hurt from grasping the handlebars and pushing the lever forward with his thumb.
He turned to the water, hoping its coolness would soothe his tired muscles. Soft ripples rolled lazily along, begging him to dive through their perfection. His eyes followed the hypnotizing movement until he noticed something gray bobbing in the water a few yards away. Squinting against the warm sunlight, he stepped to the pond’s edge for a closer look.
Was that a body?
Alarm took over.
He sprang into action, removing his boots and weapons belt. With one swift motion, he dove into the water, the sting of cold pricking his skin. His focus was on getting to the lifeless body’s side, and in three strokes, he was there. He pushed the body over, recognizing the curves of a young woman. Massive amounts of wet hair covered her face, tangling between his fingers.
Heart pounding, Trev wrapped his arm under her shoulder and dragged her limp body to the dock’s ladder. It was a bit awkward, but he managed to hoist her up and spread her out on the decaying wood. Had he found her too late? He leaned over, checking her neck for a pulse.
That’s when the dead girl gave him a heart attack.
“Save me, Mangum!” she shouted, jerking dramatically.
The sudden burst of life from the drowning victim startled Trev, causing him to jump back, but there was nowhere for him to go. He was going to fall, and there was nothing he could do about it. Everything seemed to be in slow motion—arms and legs flailing in the air as he dropped back. For a split second, his eyes locked with the woman, who looked as surprised as he felt. Then his back slapped against the water, and he fell under.
He emerged with an alarming amount of spits and coughs.
“You’re not Mangum,” the girl gasped, leaning over the dock’s edge, eyes wide. She reached her hand out to help pull him up.
“And you’re not dead,” he grumbled, purposefully avoiding her proffered hand. He swam to the ladder instead.
“No.” She winced. “I’m not dead.” She watched him struggle, her expression confessing her guilt. “I . . . was faking it.”
“I can see that.” He climbed up the ladder and collapsed on the dock, hands resting limply on his heaving chest as he stared at the blue sky above him.
She was quiet for a moment until, suddenly, her body shook with an inexplicable spasm. Trev sat up, his brows folding together in confusion. Then she spasmed again and again until she obviously couldn’t keep it in, and she doubled over.
“Are you laughing?”
His question only made it worse. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to hold it in, but the laughter continued to roar out of her. Her face dropped into her hands as she shook her head back and forth. She tried deep breaths, but then she peeked at Trev through her fingers and came completely undone.
He was irritated at first, but the longer Trev watched her shaking form, the harder it became to stay mad. Despite his best efforts, laughter escaped his lips too. It was strange, the two of them sitting in a puddle on the dock, laughing like children. Trev couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard.
It felt good.
Trev gasped through a laugh, “Why . . . why would you fake drowning?”
“It was meant to be a joke,” she defended.
“For this Mangum person?” Trev cringed. “I feel sorry for the guy.”
Sucking in, she slowed the momentum of her giggles. “You’re right. It’s not funny,” she said. “I’m sorry . . . for it all.”
Trev was curious. He scooted his body so he could sit on the edge of the dock, swinging his legs over the side. “So who’s this Mangum guy, and why did you get us confused?”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone else.” She rolled over to the edge copying the way he sat. “I’ve been coming to this pond my whole life, and I’ve never seen a single person here. How did you find this place?”
“My friend and I stumbled upon it a year or two ago. I haven’t been back since, but I needed a break today.” He kicked his legs back and forth over the water. “Do you live around here?”
She hesitated.
“What?” He pulled his head back. “It’s not like I’m going to come knocking on your door.”
“I grew up not far from here,” she hedged, her gaze falling to the water below. “What about you?”
“I come and go as I please,” he said mischievously.
She raised her eyebrows, likely curious about his vague answer, so he opted for changing the subject. “What’s your name?”
“Why? Do you keep a record of all the girls you save?”
“Only the pretty ones,” he joked, thinking he would add her name if such a list existed. She was pretty. Water dripped down from the top of her forehead and the ends of her blonde hair, making tiny splashes all around her on the dock and prompting Trev to push his hands through his own dripping hair. Her wet clothes accentuated the curves of her body and Trev looked away. She must have noticed his sudden avoidance because she self-consciously pulled at her gray shirt so the damp fabric didn’t cling to her chest.
He tried again. “Are you going to tell me your name? If I did have a list, I’d want you on it.”
“You’re a complete stranger,” she deflected, bestowing a small smile.