“I’m right here, brother,” Ackley said, pulling the sleeves of his shirt down over his arms as he exited the palace. He stood next to his brother.

Since Ackley was here, didn’t that mean Dexter had to be here as well? Peering at Ackley, Reid searched for any kind of signal from him, but he didn’t even look her way. Folding her hands, she faced the lawn, waiting for the king and army to arrive.

Soldiers were stationed around the perimeter of the palace and the rooftop. All wore crisp, matching uniforms.

Reid felt a strong, warm presence behind her. Turning, she watched Dexter exit the palace, relief almost choking her at the sight. He wore a plain black tunic, similar to his father’s, which bore the Winston family crest on the front. The same symbol as the king, only smaller and less ostentatious.

He came up next to her, not once meeting her eyes. “What?” he whispered.

“Nothing.” She’d just never seen him dressed so demurely before. Normally, he wore military attire, which exposed his muscular arms. The man beside her looked like a subdued duke or prince—which was what she assumed he was going for. He almost didn’t look or feel like her Dexter.

A low, rumbling sound reverberated through the ground.

“Here they come,” Dexter murmured, taking a deliberate step away from Reid.

Soldiers appeared. Rows and rows of men dressed in solid red with a lion stitched on the front of their uniforms. They kept coming. Hundreds of them. They lined up on the front lawn, leaving a space in the middle leading directly to the palace entrance. Then the horses appeared. There were probably thirty or so carrying men dressed in a variation of the red uniform. Reid assumed they were the officers. They rode down the aisle to the steps of the palace. When they fanned out, she realized the king was among them.

Reid examined the soldiers noting they all had a similar look to them—wide-shouldered, muscled arms, short hair. They resembled the three groups of assassins she’d encountered as well as the miners from Bridger, confirming her suspicions that the men weren’t assassins or miners, but soldiers from another kingdom.

Eldon dismounted, moving to stand before Henrick. Everyone bowed or curtsied. “Rise,” Eldon commanded as he scanned those present on the steps.

Reid glanced between Henrick and Eldon—father and son. What were they each thinking?

“Welcome,” Henrick said. “We are pleased and honored you traveled here for the wedding. Please come inside for some refreshments.”

Wasn’t he going to ask about the hundreds of soldiers in formation on the lawn?

Gordon’s hands balled into fists, but he didn’t question his brother.

Was no one going to demand to know what was going on? Were they all supposed to pretend as if nothing were amiss? Reid wanted to shake sense into everybody.