They reached the section of their home open to public tours, and the artwork here transitioned to being enclosed in protective cases. They were halfway through the wide entryway when the heavy wooden doors opened, the hinges creaking.

Why were the guards allowing anyone to enter when the king was walking through? When two men in white chef’s uniforms stepped inside, Cassie’s confusion deepened. Food preparations should be nearly completed by now. Why would two chefs be arriving minutes before hors d’oeuvres would be served?

Cassie anticipated the guards demanding answers to those exact questions, but instead, one shouted, “Get down!”

The guard’s words only added to her confusion, leaving her frozen in place. Then she saw it, the guns in the newcomers’ hands, as well as the dark, almost blank expressions they wore.

Her heart caught in her throat, and she reached for her father’s hand only to find he was no longer beside her.

Weapons raised on both sides. A guard jumped in front of her, and another grabbed her arm. Gunfire sparked. Bodies fell. Alarms sounded.

Fear swamped through her, even as she was yanked to the side of the foyer. The heel of her left shoe caught on the wood floor, breaking cleanly when a guard shoved her behind a suit of armor. An instant later, the guard dropped to the ground.

Gunshots sparked against metal.

More gunfire. More shouts. More sparks as bullets hit the armor protecting her. The helmet took a direct hit and clanged to the floor.

Cassie fought for breath, unable to see anything beyond the hallway behind her and the guard lying at her feet. She focused on the guard, his chest rising and falling in an irregular pattern, blood visible on his uniform a few inches below his right collarbone.

Cassie knelt, hooked both hands beneath his shoulders, and pulled him toward her. She squeaked in alarm when a bullet impacted only inches from her head, but she didn’t release him until his body was out of the line of fire.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmured, not sure if she was trying to convince the injured guard or herself. She saw the handkerchief in the man’s pocket. Quickly, she drew it out and pressed it against his wound.

She glanced up in time to see a fresh wave of guards arrive from the hall opposite her. This time, the gunfire lasted mere seconds, and none of the royal guards fell. In an instant, Darius, the captain of the guard, appeared at her side.

“Call an ambulance,” Darius yelled to the man behind him. As his companion did so, Darius leaned down. “Your Highness, are you okay?”

“I think so.” Her gaze swept the room, taking in the two assailants lying on the ground, along with three more guards. A tremor worked through her. “My father?”

The king answered for himself, his voice booming through the foyer. “Cassandra!”

Relief washed through her at the familiar sound.

“She’s unharmed.” Darius signaled to one of his men, who took Cassie’s place at the injured guard’s side.