His eyes were not as damaged as the first guy’s had been. While they had discharged some white fluid, he could evidently still see, but it clearly took effort.

The length of rope in his hands had a grappling hook at its end.

An instant later, Dion DeSaxe himself burst out of the tunnel and shoved his way past the Squire.

Lily saw the young king’s distinguishing feature instantly: the translucent plastic mask he wore over his disfigured lower jaw, covering the hideous wound he had received at the conclusion of the Great Games when Alby had shot him through the face.

His eyes, she saw, were also partially melted. But his body was unharmed.

Whatever superhot substance had splashed over his men had not touched him. Typical Dion. He’d been hiding behind them.

It was lucky Dion came out when he did, for at that exact moment, the metallic gold claw lunged out from the shadows of the tunnel again, clutched the Squire beside Dion by the throat and yanked him back into the darkness.

As he was sucked from view, the Squire screamed and dropped the rope and hook.

Dion scooped it up.

Then, without any hesitation, he dived off his balcony, leaping toward the next ledge over—Lily’s—holding the grappling hook in his outstretched right hand as he did so.

The hook caught Lily’s ledge.

Lily was momentarily taken aback.

Here was this man—this vile young man who had told her once that after he married her, he would violate her every night with his brother, Zaitan—now dangling at her feet above the abyss.

Lily’s first thought was to kick the hook and dislodge it, but could she do such a thing?

Hell, yes.

She lunged forward and raised her boot to kick the grappling hook.

‘Not so fast,’ Dion said, his hideous semi-melted eyes looking up into hers. ‘Or else you go with me.’

He must have had it clipped to his belt.

As he gripped the grappling hook with his right hand, he revealed his left hand, holding a grenade.

Jack watched helplessly as, ninety feet away from him, Dion climbed up onto Lily’s ledge.

It was literally Jack’s worst nightmare: this royal asshole holding his daughter at his mercy.

Jack drew his pistol. Maybe he could—

‘If you shoot me, this grenade goes off and she dies with me, Captain!’ Dion called across the shaft.

Jack swore.

Dion stepped up fully onto the ledge.

Lily faced him. He was a foot taller than she was.

Her disgust must have shown.

Dion smirked. ‘Come now, darling. Do I look so hideous?’

With his translucent facemask and the milky white fluid trickling from his eyes, the answer was a resounding yes.

‘Couldn’t happen to a bigger douchebag, Dion. You were always so wrapped up in appearances.’