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Penwyck above its letterhead. “The king’s personal stationery is used only for his most personal correspondence,” he continued. “It is always addressed from his office in his private apartments.”
    Harrison took his coffee and offered it to Pierce. The younger man looked even more desperate for caffeine than he felt himself.
    “Have a seat,” he muttered, and poured himself another cup as the importance of something that ordinarily wouldn’t seem significant at all turned all four men silent.
    Whoever had kidnapped Prince Owen had also been in the king’s private apartments.
    The conclusion was so obvious that not one of them felt compelled to mention it.
    “Not to add insult to injury,” Harrison prefaced, “but was the printer used the one in the king’s residence office, too?”
    Pierce had taken a grateful sip of what his colleague had offered him. Preparing to take another, he muttered, “It appears so.”
    Harrison’s grip on his own mug tightened. “How do you want to handle General Vancor?” he asked, speaking of the head of the royal guard.
    “I think it’s best that whatever evidence we have remain among us,” Logan asserted.
    “I agree,” Harrison concluded, his voice going hard as he wondered how many other ways security might have been compromised that night. “Just tell him we have reason to believe Prince Owen’s kidnappers were also in the king’s apartments and find out how security was breached. If he doesn’t have answers from his men by this afternoon, I’ll pay him a visit myself.”
    Having delegated that task, he picked up the newspaper he’d dropped onto a side chair and slid it faceup to the center of the table. “We also have another security problem.” His tone was matter-of-fact, his manner amazingly calm considering how furious he was at whoever had broken their confidence. The situation before had been delicate, to say the least. It now held the potential for disaster. “I received a call from a reporter of the Penwyck Herald about forty-five minutes ago. This is already hitting the streets.”
    The bold, black headline screamed up at them all: King Morgan in Coma; Prince Broderick in Power
    The other three men rose to their feet, each turning the paper so he could better see, the sounds muffled by their expletives.
    Having already uttered a few oaths himself, Harrison glanced from one to another. These were the men the king had chosen to trust with his kingdom. There wasn’t one Harrison didn’t trust himself.
    “We need to find whoever leaked this information.”
    “What did the reporter say?” Logan demanded darkly.
    “Only that he thought the palace should know beforethe public found out. He hung up before I could ask anything else.” To Harrison, Logan looked as if he could cheerfully choke someone. He could sympathize. Refusing to cave in to fatigue or frustration, he shoved his hand into his pocket instead. “My secretary is tracking him and his editor down now.”
    “Aside from us,” Logan growled, “the only people who knew were the doctor and the three nurses tending His Majesty. They all have top security clearance and wouldn’t have anything to gain by leaking this.”
    “The queen knows,” Pierce reminded him.
    “Well, we know she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the Crown,” the bodyguard conceded. “What about someone in a lab somewhere? The king’s bloodwork is still being handled under an alias, isn’t it?”
    “I’ll check with the doctor,” Pierce replied, fully sharing his peer’s frustration. “But questions raise questions and we need to tread lightly there. I think our best source right now is the reporter and the editor.”
    “I’ll stay on it,” Harrison promised. “But who leaked this isn’t our biggest problem at the moment.” He was unable himself to imagine where the leak had occurred, though he did agree with Pierce about Her Majesty. If the queen were to confide in anyone, it would be Lady