The Bad Royals Box Set: The Complete Royally Unexpected Series, page 19
“Well, that’ll be something for the new King to deal with,” my father says, raising a glass. “To the happy couple.”
“To the happy couple,” Lady Brundle says with a smile.
My heart sinks. My father is triumphant. If I oppose this now, he’ll hurt Elle. If I don’t, I’m the face of the project. My father keeps calling the shots with no repercussions.
I know, now, that Elle is right. I can’t be with her. My duty is to my Kingdom, and it seems that my father is intent on ruining it. If I turn my back on the Crown now, all of Grimdale will be annihilated.
My father stares at me with a wicked smirk on his face. He calls for more wine, but I can’t hear a word. My ears are ringing. I look around the dinner table to see my brothers’ grim faces followed by my father’s jubilant one.
He knows he’s trapped me. The only way I can stop this from happening is by becoming King, and the only way I can become King is by marrying Olivia Brundle.
Which means I can’t have Elle.
Sitting at that dinner table, the last piece of my heart turns black and crumbles as I realize that for all my wishing, all my hopes and late-night dreams… I’ll never be with the woman I love. I’ll never be a father to our child. I’ll never hold her in my arms again and I’ll never get to tell her that I love her.
I have to choose between her and half my Kingdom. As much as it breaks my spirit, I have to choose my Kingdom.
34
ELLE
Days turn into weeks, which turn into months. My baby grows. I take summer classes and schedule my next semester so I can graduate by December.
The baby is due around the holidays, so it’ll be tough, but it’s possible. I just have to do things right.
I apply for student loans. Between that, what the Valencias scrape together, and a generous loan from Dahlia, I’m able to pay tuition for the summer and fall semesters. I’ll graduate.
I stay off social media and I don’t watch the news. Stories of Prince Charlie’s wedding dominate the press. It’s never-ending.
There are news stories about what flowers will be chosen, what dress Olivia will wear, what they’ll name their first child. It feels like whenever I’m having a good day, I’ll see another headline about his happy marriage, or a photo of him and Olivia together, and it sends me down another spiral of depression.
The only thing that keeps me going is my baby. When I feel the negativity start to creep in, I sit and meditate until it goes away. I play classical music for my bump, and talk to my baby as if it’s already in my arms.
“You’re going to be the luckiest baby in the world, because you have a mother who will do anything for you,” I whisper to my belly.
Tina brings me to my doctor’s appointments, and I learn that I’m having a son.
“What are you going to call him?” She asks as she’s driving me home.
“Charlie,” I answer, staring out the window. She reaches over to clasp my hand, and we drive the rest of the way home in silence.
I still love him, is the thing. Even when I read about Prince Charlie’s upcoming marriage. Even when I see pictures of him with the girl who tormented me in the locker room for three years. Even when I get scared that I won’t be able to provide for this baby on my own.
I still love him.
As the weeks go by, I realize it’ll never go away.
So, I just accept it. I’ll love the Prince from afar, and I’ll use that energy to raise our son.
Come September, I go to the Farcliff University Student Services building to make my final tuition payment, only to learn that the balance has been cleared.
I walk out, stroking my now-obvious six-month baby bump. I know it was him—it was the Prince. My fingers hover over my phone screen, but I hesitate. I’ve blocked his number months ago, because I couldn’t handle his calls and texts.
If I talk to him now, will I still have the strength to go on without him? I’m just starting to come to terms with his absence.
I put my phone away without saying anything and I go home. Dahlia is there, and I try to give her back the money she lent me. Dahlia refuses, saying I’ll need money to live during the semester.
“I won’t charge you interest. The banks will. Pay back the student loans first, and you can pay me back after.”
“Dahlia…”
“I’m not taking any money from you. I’ll kick you out of this house before that happens, and then you’ll need the money even more than you do now.”
I open my mouth, but all I can do is laugh. “Fine. Thank you.” And then my jaw drops and my hand goes to my stomach. “He’s kicking!”
Dahlia squeals, rushing over to me and putting her hand out to feel it. “Is this the first time?”
I nod, speechless. My cheeks flush and a smile cracks my face in half. “That feels so weird.”
“You have an actual whole other human growing inside you,” Dahlia says, her eyes wide. “That’s wild.”
I laugh. “Yes, that’s the general idea behind pregnancy.”
We sit on the sofa together for another quiet evening, and I realize that Dahlia and the Valencias are all the family I need. I’ve spent my whole life mourning the fact that I don’t know who my parents are, but now—with this baby inside me—it’s giving me perspective. I get to choose my family, and fill it with people who love and care about me. I know Dahlia, Frank, and Tina will be here for me, no matter what.
I glance at Dahlia and nod to her room. “I haven’t heard any marathon sex sessions in a while. You okay?”
She gives me a tight smile. “Yeah,” she says. “Just a dry spell, I guess. Don’t want to ruin another bed frame seeing as you won’t be able to help me build another one for a little while.”
I laugh, and then glance at my friend. It’s out of character for her to be celibate. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. You?”
“Yeah,” I smile. “I’m good, actually. I feel… I feel like everything is going to be okay.”
“Didn’t I tell you that four months ago? It will be okay.”
She grabs the remote and changes the channel, and Charlie’s face flashes on the screen. My heart squeezes.
“Oops! Sorry,” she says, flicking it back.
“Wait, go back.”
“…and the date of the wedding is set for November first of this year. With only six weeks for the final preparations, the castle is abuzz with energy. The Brundle family are making preparations to move their daughter to Farcliff…”
“Six weeks,” I say, eyebrows arching. “That’s soon.”
“Must be some kind of rush.”
“Maybe she’s pregnant, too,” I say with a grin that turns into a grimace. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret saying them out loud. My lips pinch and my eyes water, and Dahlia squeezes my arm.
“I don’t think so,” she says. “I don’t think he would do that.”
“Yeah,” I respond, but I don’t really believe her. The Prince and I aren’t together anymore. He’s getting married, and he’s expected to have to have children—legitimate children—to become his heirs. At some point, if it hasn’t happened already, he’s going to have sex with Olivia Brundle.
The thought of him with another woman still makes me sick. My stomach turns and the baby kicks, as if he can feel me getting upset. I just run my hands over my stomach and focus on my son. I take deep breaths as Dahlia changes the channel again, and I push the thought of the Prince and Olivia out of my mind.
It doesn’t matter anymore, but it still hurts.
“He loved you, Elle. I know he did.” Dahlia’s voice is soft.
“It’s irrelevant,” I say. “It’s over. I just need to move on.”
“I’m sorry, Elle.”
“For what? I mean, at the end of the day, I was with him and it gave me an entire new perspective on life. I’ll have this kid, now, and I already know I’ll love him more than anything else in the world. It’s not all bad.”
“No, but it would be better if he wasn’t on television every four seconds.”
I laugh bitterly. “Yeah, true. I’ll have to choose a less famous secret boyfriend next time.”
“He hasn’t tried to contact you?”
“I blocked his number.”
“Oh.”
“He was calling me almost every day the first month. It was too hard to keep ignoring his calls. I can’t be with him, so it’s easier just to cut him off.”
“He paid your tuition, though, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So he’s thinking about you.”
“Maybe.”
Dahlia doesn’t say much after that, and neither do I.
Maybe I should talk to him and keep him in my life. Maybe I should call him to thank him. It would be the mature thing to do.
But every time I see him with Olivia, my heart breaks all over again. I’m scared that if I talk to him, hearing his voice will send me back down to the depths of despair.
It’s easier just to move on. It happened, and it was great, but now it’s done. I’ll always love him, but I can never have him. It’s over.
35
CHARLIE
My wedding day feels more like a funeral. With my stiff, over-starched ceremonial uniform choking me, and my hair gelled back like a helmet, I feel like a fool. A makeup artist is fussing over my face and neck. She’s covered my visible tattoos with makeup on my chest and wrists—at my father’s instruction, of course. It’s not appropriate, he told her. I don’t have the energy to fight it. It’s just another sign that I can’t be who I want to be anymore.
“It’s okay. I’m done now,” I say, waving her away.
“But the photos—”
“The photos will be fine. I don’t care about the photos.” I get up off the chair and make my way down to the castle lobby. The royal procession is ready and waiting for me. We’ll make our way to the cathedral in the center of Farcliff. The police have closed off the streets, and there are already thousands of people lining the barricades to watch us go by.
My carriage is ornate, red, and completely over-the-top. Four white horses are ready to pull me to the end of my life as I know it.
My father hangs out of the carriage waiting behind mine and he waves impatiently. “You’re late!”
I ignore him. Castle guards on horses line the procession on either side, wearing equally ridiculous uniforms as me. What a fucking rigamarole this is. It’s almost embarrassing.
Olivia Brundle is somewhere in this circus, wearing a big dress that everyone will gush about. There are about a dozen horse-drawn carriages in a row, and I allow myself to be led to one of them. Neville joins me, along with my two brothers.
“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Gabe says with a grin. “Your wedding day is supposed to be happy.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not.”
No one says anything else, and we start moving. The carriage bounces along and I stare out the window, seeing nothing.
The future is bleak, but this is what being King is all about, apparently. I have to sacrifice my personal happiness for the sake of my people—and the twelve million residents of Grimdale shouldn’t have to move away from their homes. If I can’t be with Elle, I’ll make sure of that, at least.
The Farcliff Dam Project isn’t signed yet, and I’m making it my mission to kill it, if it’s the last thing I do. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I will. I’m doing it for Elle, and for my mother. It’s what they’d both want.
There are thousands of people lining the streets, shouting and cheering for us as we ride by. My spirits sink lower. They shouldn’t be here celebrating when I feel like I’m walking the plank. We wind through the streets of Farcliff and the crowds get denser.
As we near the cathedral, the energy outside grows more frantic. People jostle and push to be near the barricades, throwing their arms toward the royal carriages. Cameras flash. People shout.
Our procession comes to a stop outside the cathedral. Damon shakes my hand and exits the carriage. Gabe is next. I watch them take their places outside the carriage and I turn to Neville, who’s holding something in his hands.
“Your Highness…”
It’s my mother’s ring box.
“Put that away, Neville. Olivia Brundle isn’t wearing that ring. Never.”
“I think you should look inside.” He stares at me and thrusts the box toward me.
I huff. I don’t want to look at that ring right now. That ring represents everything that I’m giving up, everything that I’ve lost. But Neville nods at me, and it’s uncharacteristic for him to be this pushy. I open the box, and my mother’s emerald ring twinkles at me.
My chest squeezes and I struggle to take a breath.
“What? Why am I looking at this?”
Nev clears his throat. “Look underneath.”
I frown, pulling up the cushion that holds the ring. A small, folded slip of paper is hidden underneath. My mouth goes dry. I stare at Neville, who averts his eyes.
“Did you know this was in here?”
“The Queen was very clear that you should only find it on your own. But, seeing as the circumstances are what they are…”
I unfold the yellowing paper with trembling hands. My breath hitches when I see my mother’s looping handwriting. In the center of the page is a little circular watermark, where the ink has bled, as if she cried as she wrote this.
My darling Charlie,
If you’re reading this, it means my worst fears have been realized. I’m sorry that I’m not there to see your wedding day, or my grandchildren, or to see what kind of man you grew to be.
I want you to know that I love you with all my heart, and I’m so very proud of you. You will be the King that Farcliff needs.
My hands are shaking so hard I can’t read. My vision is blurring. I take a breath to compose myself.
In the cabin, at the back of the wine cellar, you’ll find a safe. The combination is your birthday. I’ve hidden evidence of the first attempt on my life, and everything that I believe shows that your father and Talin Thorne are planning to have me murdered.
I’m causing too much of a fuss with Farcliff politics, I think. You know me—always sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong. Kind of like you.
Take care of your brothers.
Love,
Mom
I read the letter again, my eyes widening.
“Sir?” Neville asks. “What does it say?”
“It says she thought she was going to be murdered,” I whisper. “It says my father and Talin… Thorne?” My eyes widen. “I thought his last name was Smith.”
Neville’s eyebrows arch. “I always heard Smith. Thorne was…”
“The name of my governess.”
My hands tremble as my pulse quickens. I smooth the paper out and snap a picture of it with my phone. It takes me three tries to get a picture that isn’t blurry because my hands are shaking so much. I fold the letter up again, putting it into the ring box and slipping the box into my jacket pocket. I pat it to make sure it’s safe as my eyes swing to look out of the carriage window. My brothers are walking up the cathedral steps. Talin is standing near the door, hands clasped behind his back, and the urge to murder him becomes almost irresistible.
Cameras flash.
My blood boils.
Tabitha Raventhal was right. My mother was murdered, and I know who did it.
Flying out the door before anyone can open it for me, I stumble toward my father’s carriage at the back of the procession. People clamor for my attention, but I ignore them all.
Tearing the King’s carriage door off its hinges, I glare at my father. “You set me up.”
“Get in that cathedral and marry the Brundle girl.”
“You killed my mother.”
“Been talking to the Raventhals, have you?”
“No, I’ve got a letter from my mother—the Queen that you had murdered—that explains it all.” It’s not quite true, I don’t know everything, but I know enough. “And Talin… I know his last name is Thorne. I know he’s related to the governess, and you were behind it all. You set me up to be preyed on by a grown woman. You had me abused. You had my mother killed.”
My whole body is shaking and my father crouches away from me, eyes wide. He shakes his head. “You have no proof.”
“I have enough. You think the Kingdom will care that I’m in love with Elle when they hear that you murdered your own wife? That you had your own child set up by a grown woman? That you threatened him? I don’t need you to name me heir, because you’re going to abdicate. Today.”
“I will do no such—”
“I have pictures of the letter, and I’ll send them to every news station I can find. You’re going to jail.”
“No one will believe you.”
“They will when I tell them about the dam project. How do you think the twelve million residents of Grimdale will react when they hear you killed the one member of the royal family who cared about them and are planning to flood their homes?” I lean in toward him. “They’ll tear you limb from limb, Father, and I’ll let them. They’ll put your head on a stake, and I’ll laugh with them.”
“Charlie…” My father opens and closes his mouth, running his hands through his hair. His whole face has gone red and he sputters and tries to speak, but nothing comes out.
“I’m not getting married today. You’re getting up there and abdicating.”
His lip trembles and he closes his eyes, but he still shakes his head. “I will not—”
“Either step down right now, or watch everything you built crumble. If you step down, I’ll keep this quiet. If you make a fuss, you’ll welcome the day that you die.”
For once, the cruel grin is on my lips, not his. He knows that he’ll be dishonored, dethroned, destroyed if a word of this gets out.
I won’t even need all the proof in my hands. My mother’s letter is enough. A whiff of suspicion is enough.
“To the happy couple,” Lady Brundle says with a smile.
My heart sinks. My father is triumphant. If I oppose this now, he’ll hurt Elle. If I don’t, I’m the face of the project. My father keeps calling the shots with no repercussions.
I know, now, that Elle is right. I can’t be with her. My duty is to my Kingdom, and it seems that my father is intent on ruining it. If I turn my back on the Crown now, all of Grimdale will be annihilated.
My father stares at me with a wicked smirk on his face. He calls for more wine, but I can’t hear a word. My ears are ringing. I look around the dinner table to see my brothers’ grim faces followed by my father’s jubilant one.
He knows he’s trapped me. The only way I can stop this from happening is by becoming King, and the only way I can become King is by marrying Olivia Brundle.
Which means I can’t have Elle.
Sitting at that dinner table, the last piece of my heart turns black and crumbles as I realize that for all my wishing, all my hopes and late-night dreams… I’ll never be with the woman I love. I’ll never be a father to our child. I’ll never hold her in my arms again and I’ll never get to tell her that I love her.
I have to choose between her and half my Kingdom. As much as it breaks my spirit, I have to choose my Kingdom.
34
ELLE
Days turn into weeks, which turn into months. My baby grows. I take summer classes and schedule my next semester so I can graduate by December.
The baby is due around the holidays, so it’ll be tough, but it’s possible. I just have to do things right.
I apply for student loans. Between that, what the Valencias scrape together, and a generous loan from Dahlia, I’m able to pay tuition for the summer and fall semesters. I’ll graduate.
I stay off social media and I don’t watch the news. Stories of Prince Charlie’s wedding dominate the press. It’s never-ending.
There are news stories about what flowers will be chosen, what dress Olivia will wear, what they’ll name their first child. It feels like whenever I’m having a good day, I’ll see another headline about his happy marriage, or a photo of him and Olivia together, and it sends me down another spiral of depression.
The only thing that keeps me going is my baby. When I feel the negativity start to creep in, I sit and meditate until it goes away. I play classical music for my bump, and talk to my baby as if it’s already in my arms.
“You’re going to be the luckiest baby in the world, because you have a mother who will do anything for you,” I whisper to my belly.
Tina brings me to my doctor’s appointments, and I learn that I’m having a son.
“What are you going to call him?” She asks as she’s driving me home.
“Charlie,” I answer, staring out the window. She reaches over to clasp my hand, and we drive the rest of the way home in silence.
I still love him, is the thing. Even when I read about Prince Charlie’s upcoming marriage. Even when I see pictures of him with the girl who tormented me in the locker room for three years. Even when I get scared that I won’t be able to provide for this baby on my own.
I still love him.
As the weeks go by, I realize it’ll never go away.
So, I just accept it. I’ll love the Prince from afar, and I’ll use that energy to raise our son.
Come September, I go to the Farcliff University Student Services building to make my final tuition payment, only to learn that the balance has been cleared.
I walk out, stroking my now-obvious six-month baby bump. I know it was him—it was the Prince. My fingers hover over my phone screen, but I hesitate. I’ve blocked his number months ago, because I couldn’t handle his calls and texts.
If I talk to him now, will I still have the strength to go on without him? I’m just starting to come to terms with his absence.
I put my phone away without saying anything and I go home. Dahlia is there, and I try to give her back the money she lent me. Dahlia refuses, saying I’ll need money to live during the semester.
“I won’t charge you interest. The banks will. Pay back the student loans first, and you can pay me back after.”
“Dahlia…”
“I’m not taking any money from you. I’ll kick you out of this house before that happens, and then you’ll need the money even more than you do now.”
I open my mouth, but all I can do is laugh. “Fine. Thank you.” And then my jaw drops and my hand goes to my stomach. “He’s kicking!”
Dahlia squeals, rushing over to me and putting her hand out to feel it. “Is this the first time?”
I nod, speechless. My cheeks flush and a smile cracks my face in half. “That feels so weird.”
“You have an actual whole other human growing inside you,” Dahlia says, her eyes wide. “That’s wild.”
I laugh. “Yes, that’s the general idea behind pregnancy.”
We sit on the sofa together for another quiet evening, and I realize that Dahlia and the Valencias are all the family I need. I’ve spent my whole life mourning the fact that I don’t know who my parents are, but now—with this baby inside me—it’s giving me perspective. I get to choose my family, and fill it with people who love and care about me. I know Dahlia, Frank, and Tina will be here for me, no matter what.
I glance at Dahlia and nod to her room. “I haven’t heard any marathon sex sessions in a while. You okay?”
She gives me a tight smile. “Yeah,” she says. “Just a dry spell, I guess. Don’t want to ruin another bed frame seeing as you won’t be able to help me build another one for a little while.”
I laugh, and then glance at my friend. It’s out of character for her to be celibate. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. You?”
“Yeah,” I smile. “I’m good, actually. I feel… I feel like everything is going to be okay.”
“Didn’t I tell you that four months ago? It will be okay.”
She grabs the remote and changes the channel, and Charlie’s face flashes on the screen. My heart squeezes.
“Oops! Sorry,” she says, flicking it back.
“Wait, go back.”
“…and the date of the wedding is set for November first of this year. With only six weeks for the final preparations, the castle is abuzz with energy. The Brundle family are making preparations to move their daughter to Farcliff…”
“Six weeks,” I say, eyebrows arching. “That’s soon.”
“Must be some kind of rush.”
“Maybe she’s pregnant, too,” I say with a grin that turns into a grimace. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret saying them out loud. My lips pinch and my eyes water, and Dahlia squeezes my arm.
“I don’t think so,” she says. “I don’t think he would do that.”
“Yeah,” I respond, but I don’t really believe her. The Prince and I aren’t together anymore. He’s getting married, and he’s expected to have to have children—legitimate children—to become his heirs. At some point, if it hasn’t happened already, he’s going to have sex with Olivia Brundle.
The thought of him with another woman still makes me sick. My stomach turns and the baby kicks, as if he can feel me getting upset. I just run my hands over my stomach and focus on my son. I take deep breaths as Dahlia changes the channel again, and I push the thought of the Prince and Olivia out of my mind.
It doesn’t matter anymore, but it still hurts.
“He loved you, Elle. I know he did.” Dahlia’s voice is soft.
“It’s irrelevant,” I say. “It’s over. I just need to move on.”
“I’m sorry, Elle.”
“For what? I mean, at the end of the day, I was with him and it gave me an entire new perspective on life. I’ll have this kid, now, and I already know I’ll love him more than anything else in the world. It’s not all bad.”
“No, but it would be better if he wasn’t on television every four seconds.”
I laugh bitterly. “Yeah, true. I’ll have to choose a less famous secret boyfriend next time.”
“He hasn’t tried to contact you?”
“I blocked his number.”
“Oh.”
“He was calling me almost every day the first month. It was too hard to keep ignoring his calls. I can’t be with him, so it’s easier just to cut him off.”
“He paid your tuition, though, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So he’s thinking about you.”
“Maybe.”
Dahlia doesn’t say much after that, and neither do I.
Maybe I should talk to him and keep him in my life. Maybe I should call him to thank him. It would be the mature thing to do.
But every time I see him with Olivia, my heart breaks all over again. I’m scared that if I talk to him, hearing his voice will send me back down to the depths of despair.
It’s easier just to move on. It happened, and it was great, but now it’s done. I’ll always love him, but I can never have him. It’s over.
35
CHARLIE
My wedding day feels more like a funeral. With my stiff, over-starched ceremonial uniform choking me, and my hair gelled back like a helmet, I feel like a fool. A makeup artist is fussing over my face and neck. She’s covered my visible tattoos with makeup on my chest and wrists—at my father’s instruction, of course. It’s not appropriate, he told her. I don’t have the energy to fight it. It’s just another sign that I can’t be who I want to be anymore.
“It’s okay. I’m done now,” I say, waving her away.
“But the photos—”
“The photos will be fine. I don’t care about the photos.” I get up off the chair and make my way down to the castle lobby. The royal procession is ready and waiting for me. We’ll make our way to the cathedral in the center of Farcliff. The police have closed off the streets, and there are already thousands of people lining the barricades to watch us go by.
My carriage is ornate, red, and completely over-the-top. Four white horses are ready to pull me to the end of my life as I know it.
My father hangs out of the carriage waiting behind mine and he waves impatiently. “You’re late!”
I ignore him. Castle guards on horses line the procession on either side, wearing equally ridiculous uniforms as me. What a fucking rigamarole this is. It’s almost embarrassing.
Olivia Brundle is somewhere in this circus, wearing a big dress that everyone will gush about. There are about a dozen horse-drawn carriages in a row, and I allow myself to be led to one of them. Neville joins me, along with my two brothers.
“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Gabe says with a grin. “Your wedding day is supposed to be happy.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not.”
No one says anything else, and we start moving. The carriage bounces along and I stare out the window, seeing nothing.
The future is bleak, but this is what being King is all about, apparently. I have to sacrifice my personal happiness for the sake of my people—and the twelve million residents of Grimdale shouldn’t have to move away from their homes. If I can’t be with Elle, I’ll make sure of that, at least.
The Farcliff Dam Project isn’t signed yet, and I’m making it my mission to kill it, if it’s the last thing I do. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I will. I’m doing it for Elle, and for my mother. It’s what they’d both want.
There are thousands of people lining the streets, shouting and cheering for us as we ride by. My spirits sink lower. They shouldn’t be here celebrating when I feel like I’m walking the plank. We wind through the streets of Farcliff and the crowds get denser.
As we near the cathedral, the energy outside grows more frantic. People jostle and push to be near the barricades, throwing their arms toward the royal carriages. Cameras flash. People shout.
Our procession comes to a stop outside the cathedral. Damon shakes my hand and exits the carriage. Gabe is next. I watch them take their places outside the carriage and I turn to Neville, who’s holding something in his hands.
“Your Highness…”
It’s my mother’s ring box.
“Put that away, Neville. Olivia Brundle isn’t wearing that ring. Never.”
“I think you should look inside.” He stares at me and thrusts the box toward me.
I huff. I don’t want to look at that ring right now. That ring represents everything that I’m giving up, everything that I’ve lost. But Neville nods at me, and it’s uncharacteristic for him to be this pushy. I open the box, and my mother’s emerald ring twinkles at me.
My chest squeezes and I struggle to take a breath.
“What? Why am I looking at this?”
Nev clears his throat. “Look underneath.”
I frown, pulling up the cushion that holds the ring. A small, folded slip of paper is hidden underneath. My mouth goes dry. I stare at Neville, who averts his eyes.
“Did you know this was in here?”
“The Queen was very clear that you should only find it on your own. But, seeing as the circumstances are what they are…”
I unfold the yellowing paper with trembling hands. My breath hitches when I see my mother’s looping handwriting. In the center of the page is a little circular watermark, where the ink has bled, as if she cried as she wrote this.
My darling Charlie,
If you’re reading this, it means my worst fears have been realized. I’m sorry that I’m not there to see your wedding day, or my grandchildren, or to see what kind of man you grew to be.
I want you to know that I love you with all my heart, and I’m so very proud of you. You will be the King that Farcliff needs.
My hands are shaking so hard I can’t read. My vision is blurring. I take a breath to compose myself.
In the cabin, at the back of the wine cellar, you’ll find a safe. The combination is your birthday. I’ve hidden evidence of the first attempt on my life, and everything that I believe shows that your father and Talin Thorne are planning to have me murdered.
I’m causing too much of a fuss with Farcliff politics, I think. You know me—always sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong. Kind of like you.
Take care of your brothers.
Love,
Mom
I read the letter again, my eyes widening.
“Sir?” Neville asks. “What does it say?”
“It says she thought she was going to be murdered,” I whisper. “It says my father and Talin… Thorne?” My eyes widen. “I thought his last name was Smith.”
Neville’s eyebrows arch. “I always heard Smith. Thorne was…”
“The name of my governess.”
My hands tremble as my pulse quickens. I smooth the paper out and snap a picture of it with my phone. It takes me three tries to get a picture that isn’t blurry because my hands are shaking so much. I fold the letter up again, putting it into the ring box and slipping the box into my jacket pocket. I pat it to make sure it’s safe as my eyes swing to look out of the carriage window. My brothers are walking up the cathedral steps. Talin is standing near the door, hands clasped behind his back, and the urge to murder him becomes almost irresistible.
Cameras flash.
My blood boils.
Tabitha Raventhal was right. My mother was murdered, and I know who did it.
Flying out the door before anyone can open it for me, I stumble toward my father’s carriage at the back of the procession. People clamor for my attention, but I ignore them all.
Tearing the King’s carriage door off its hinges, I glare at my father. “You set me up.”
“Get in that cathedral and marry the Brundle girl.”
“You killed my mother.”
“Been talking to the Raventhals, have you?”
“No, I’ve got a letter from my mother—the Queen that you had murdered—that explains it all.” It’s not quite true, I don’t know everything, but I know enough. “And Talin… I know his last name is Thorne. I know he’s related to the governess, and you were behind it all. You set me up to be preyed on by a grown woman. You had me abused. You had my mother killed.”
My whole body is shaking and my father crouches away from me, eyes wide. He shakes his head. “You have no proof.”
“I have enough. You think the Kingdom will care that I’m in love with Elle when they hear that you murdered your own wife? That you had your own child set up by a grown woman? That you threatened him? I don’t need you to name me heir, because you’re going to abdicate. Today.”
“I will do no such—”
“I have pictures of the letter, and I’ll send them to every news station I can find. You’re going to jail.”
“No one will believe you.”
“They will when I tell them about the dam project. How do you think the twelve million residents of Grimdale will react when they hear you killed the one member of the royal family who cared about them and are planning to flood their homes?” I lean in toward him. “They’ll tear you limb from limb, Father, and I’ll let them. They’ll put your head on a stake, and I’ll laugh with them.”
“Charlie…” My father opens and closes his mouth, running his hands through his hair. His whole face has gone red and he sputters and tries to speak, but nothing comes out.
“I’m not getting married today. You’re getting up there and abdicating.”
His lip trembles and he closes his eyes, but he still shakes his head. “I will not—”
“Either step down right now, or watch everything you built crumble. If you step down, I’ll keep this quiet. If you make a fuss, you’ll welcome the day that you die.”
For once, the cruel grin is on my lips, not his. He knows that he’ll be dishonored, dethroned, destroyed if a word of this gets out.
I won’t even need all the proof in my hands. My mother’s letter is enough. A whiff of suspicion is enough.
