Lethal Queen Bee (Embassy Academy #2) - Emily Kazmierski Page 0,1

in the sidewalk, making him lurch forward toward the curb. Flailing his arms, he righted himself before he could face plant into the asphalt.

His shoe had come untied.

Heart straining loudly in his chest, Alan knelt down to tie his laces, keeping the traffic lights in his peripheral vision. It was about to turn green. He stood just as the walk signal lit up. Perfect timing.

Alan didn’t even bother to look as he jogged into the crosswalk. Rarely were there cars on this street this late at night, since it dead-ended into the academy.

He ignored his buzzing phone. Checking it now would disrupt his mental flow. Bending over, he untied his shoe, pulled the laces tight so they wouldn’t come undone again.

A car’s headlights slid over him as it sped around the corner.

Alan froze, hunched over in the street, his fight or flight instincts skittering in indecision. Rendering him inert.

The car sped closer. Did they not see him?

Fear crept up Alan’s neck, whispering evil thoughts in his head.

It was ludicrous. The driver of that car wasn’t aiming for him. Were they?

Blood bubbled in his veins as his heart pumped at double speed.

Yes. They were.

The car lurched toward him. Tires screeched. Burned rubber filled Alan’s nostrils. Dropping the laces still gripped in his fingers, Alan lurched forward. His feet obeyed his commands, but it was not soon enough.

Metal met flesh in a crushing blow.

He felt nothing more.

2

Charlotte Cavendish-Holt

Fizzing lightness tingles through my arms and legs. Probably the wine I gulped down a few minutes ago. It’s strange. I’ve never felt the need to break my own rule against drinking, especially in public, but tonight I just couldn’t handle it.

Yet another night at a fundraiser for Daddy. Yet another disappointment.

Standing beside him during his speech, my lethal politician’s smile firmly in place, would have been a triumph. The assurance that after the debacle that was last semester, Daddy finally sees me as worthy. But yet again he relegated me to the sidelines while Cal stood front and center with that asinine blank expression on his face.

You’d think that once Daddy realized Cal wanted to be an artist, not a politician, he’d look to his next oldest child. But no.

At my elbow, Adrienne stands with a goblet in hand, sipping at her sparkling cider. She’s flanked by Mikhail, her shadow and protector, his eyes always alert for possible trouble. After all the drama last semester, Daddy assigned my bodyguard to Adrienne, leaving me free of the pesky tail.

My sister’s nose crinkles in pleasure, making me want to burst into indecorous laughter, but I won’t. Drawing attention to myself in such a state would not be beneficial for my future career as a politician. No, better to tamp down the bubbling sensation in my belly as best I can. It’s not Adrienne’s fault Daddy sees her as a potential heir. Adrienne is awesome. She’s both incredibly naive and incredibly badass. She’s sweet and knows how to bust her butt to get stuff done. Somehow, she managed to figure out who actually killed Na last semester. My stepsister may look like a doe-eyed Bambi with her wide set eyes, but she has guts. Substance. Still, would it kill her to get sick once or twice so she couldn’t come to all of Daddy’s campaign functions? Maybe then the press would stop gushing over her long enough to notice someone else.

I glance toward where my mom is standing next to Daddy as he talks to one of the senators from California. She meets my eyes, smiling. So she definitely didn’t see me sneaking champagne inelegantly in the corner during the speeches.

Really, it was colossally stupid of me to swipe champagne at such a high profile event. The political scene in the U.S. is a battlefield of promising up-and-comers who’ve been gunned down by scandal before they could even reach the most prestigious offices the country had to offer.

That won’t be my fate. I won’t allow it.

Next time I feel like wallowing, I’ll do it alone in my dorm room. Possibly with a mountain of those giant chocolate chip cookies Adrienne makes.

A giggle escapes me before I can stop it.

Adrienne shoots a concerned look my way, but I shrug her off.

I’m fine.

Still, maybe I should bow out and head back to the academy before someone sees me wobbling over the shiny wood floor of the great room we’re in. After all, the speeches and rubbing elbows portions of the night are pretty much over. All that’s left is