Cheating Royalty (Chasing Royalty #2)

Introduction

Hi everyone,

This is the second book in the Chasing Royalty series. Please read Chasing Royalty before you read Cheating Royalty, because there are a lot of spoilers and you'll probably just be confused.

Enjoy!

Anne Brees

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Grace’s critical eyes run over my disguise before brushing one last stroke of powder across my nose.

“Do you think they could recognize me?” I ask, my hands fiddling with the cloth tied tightly around my head to hide my blonde locks.

“Only if they are willing to stare at every single woman there for a few hours. I learned a lot about appearances as your lady in waiting. It’s amazing what a little makeup can do. The only similarity you have to Princess Admira is her eye color.”

I nod nervously and help her brush the powder across her own face. The guards won’t be looking for only me. Both Grace and I were supposed to leave the kingdom two months ago.

I know it was foolish to risk my life yet again staying in one city over from the castle, but nothing Grace said could convince me. I begged her to let us stay until I see Alexanne declared Queen. Until all of my futile hope of William and Victor realizing who the true murderer is crushed into the cobblestone as the crown is placed on Alexanne’s head.

Tomorrow we will gather the meager belongings we’ve collected, from selling my jewelry and dress that I was wearing when I left the castle and from Grace’s work in a sewing shop, and leave the kingdom. We still haven’t decided which kingdom we will settle down for the rest of our lives, but we plan to head north. One thing is certain. Once we leave, we will never come back to my true home.

I pull on one of my two dresses. The rags could barely be called a dress in comparison to what I use to own. One sheet of rough cloth stitched haphazardly together, a coarse belt pinching it around my thin waist. Between selling my castle possessions and Grace’s hard work at the sewing shop, we’ve stayed a step away from starvation, but it’s never been far enough away to relax.

I take a deep breath and walk across the creaking, dirty floorboards to our “kitchen”. A miniscule stove and a pot of dirty water we call our sink. Thinking of the kitchen of the castle, overflowing with every kind of food imaginable sends a wave of pain through my aching stomach. Nevertheless, I shield the pain from reaching my face and put a potato into the stove to bake.

A breakfast for Grace and me to share.

Grace tidies up the blankets strewn across the floor, the same ones that double as our beds at night.

“Admira…” She raises a book into the air.

I look away, pretending to be very interested with the potato baking in the stove.

“Did you steal this one too?” She sets it down next to a pile of my other four books. Stolen books.

“It’s not fair. I have just as much right to learn as everyone, but we’re too poor. Alexanne gets to sit in the castle, paging through the hundreds of books in the library. I have to steal each and every one that I want to read. I know I shouldn’t, I know that it’s wrong, but…” We’ve had this conversation before. I repeat the same message every time.

I know it’s wrong. I can’t attract any more attention that I already have. I will stop. But I don’t.

I pull the potato out of the stove by covering my hand in cloth and cut it in half. We don’t have any plates to set it on, just some ragged cloth.

I sit down on a blanket we call our table and Grace joins me. I begin shoveling the potato into my mouth with my fingers before Grace stops me.

She pulls a small package, slightly bigger than my thumbnail. “For your birthday.”

I take it gingerly, and peel off the gauzy wrap. A miniscule slice of butter sits inside. I don’t know if I’ve tasted butter since I left the castle.

I split it in half with my finger and give some to a refusing Grace, and put it on my own potato.

To my rumbling stomach, it tastes better than birthday cake.

But then I think of Alexanne celebrating her own birthday today, too. She must be eating a royal breakfast of croissants and eggs and ham and every other delicacy imaginable. After breakfast she’ll prepare for her coronation that she stole from me and my other two quadruplets, Emilienne and Violette.

And what about Emilienne and Violette who will never celebrate another birthday again?

The buttery potato turns to ash in my mouth.

I continue eating to please Grace and thank her repeatedly for the present. She must have sacrificed something to get it.

After we finish Grace says, “We should begin traveling now. We’ll have to walk to the next town and we don’t want to miss the event of the year.”

We wrap ourselves in too thin shawls and pull on our too holey shoes and leave our room. It’s located above the small sewing shop Grace works in to keep us from starvation. The old lady who owns the shop is kind enough to allow us to stay the empty room at no cost.

Too many people have heard of the story of Princess Admira, who ‘disgraced the kingdom by working with rebels’, for me to work anywhere. Instead I clean our room and cook and brood over everything my life has become.

We step out into the early morning summer air. The breeze still holds a distinct chill that sends shivers over my skin. The sun has just peaked out from behind the trees.

Though the coronation isn’t until the afternoon, we have to begin travel now to reach the city square in time.

Grace and I discuss our plans once we reach the abandoned road connecting the two cities. We’ll travel north, find a busy city we can pass by undetected, and work until…until nothing.

We can’t retire. We don’t have the money or job experience or connection to ever make nearly enough money to live on. We’ll work until we can’t, and then we’ll die, most likely of starvation. It’s what most people with our income do.

After everything my life was supposed to amount to as a royal, the empty future is overwhelming.

The nearer we come to the city, the less we talk. The road becomes clogged with carriages and people from throughout the kingdom, all of them traveling to see Alexanne’s coronation. It’s been sixteen years since the last royal king or queen, and the people are ready. We reach the city square near lunch time, only an hour or two until the coronation.

I would sneak out with Emilienne, put on poorly constructed disguises, and explore this very city. Just down the cobblestoned street is the blue awning to our favorite sweet shop. We would giggle for hours, painting ourselves with whip cream mustaches and slurping down sugary tea. Down this street next street is the market where Emilienne and I bought fruits and sweet bread, just to feel like we were everyone else. A lump forms in my throat when I remember that Emilienne isn’t here anymore to smile at all these memories with me.

A large section in the middle of the courtyard is roped off, kept clear with guards. Some skilled carpenters, architects, and artists have constructed a temporary stage in the center. Rich mahogany boards raise the stage five feet above the ground. The place where Alexanne will be crowned Queen.

Even with an hour until coronation, the courtyard is already packed with people. No amount of shoving or begging could get us to the front of the stage. We elbow our way to the middle of the crowd where we will go undetected amongst other eager citizens. Young women trying to appear rich with clean dresses and their own fancy head wraps. Mothers clutching their children’s hands, attempting to keep their children spotless. Men vying for a view of where the beautiful Queen will stand. Toddlers whining, asking where the Queen will be.

All this fuss for a murderer.

The wait is agonizing, but Grace and I don’t say anything. We are afraid that even the sound of our voices could give us away to the guards. The buzz of the crowd should cover it, but guards periodically cut through the crowd, searching for anyone with weapons or intentions of killing the Queen.

Grace leans in to say, “I wonder what everyone would think if they knew the truth.”

“They probably wouldn’t care as long as they have a show.” I say, careful to keep my voice down.

“True, but…” Grace’s eyes follow someone else within the crowd, forgetting what she was saying.

I turn, trying to catch what she saw. I glimpse a guard elbowing his way past us, searching for any threats. His eyes slide over us, deeming us as two young, weak women. If only he knew.

I’m about to turn away, when I get a better look at his face.

Antonin.

The guard who helped us into Victor’s office. The guard who took me to see Grace while she was imprisoned. The guard who rescued Grace from death and gave us a safe escape.

The guard whom Grace loves.

He walks further away, three, four people between us.

Pain fills Grace’s expression. She murmurs, “I would have hoped that he would have recognized me, even in this disguise.”

As she says these words, Antonin freezes among the people. He turns back for just a second, recognition flickering across his features. Helplessness fills his eyes and I see him straining against himself, begging to run to Grace. Instead, slowly, he turns back around and disappears into the crowd. He doesn’t look back.

He’s saved our disguises and our lives.

A single tear reaches Grace’s cheek before she hurriedly wipes it away.

●◊●◊●

The crowd shifts, pressing backwards. We are forced to step backwards with it or be crushed. Word travels through the crowd in murmurs. The soon-to-be Queen is coming in her carriage now and we must move out of the way. The guards are separating the crowd, pushing us together even tighter, to make the path.

Sure enough, the sound of trumpets reaches our ears, announcing Alexanne’s arrival. First come nobles and distant royal relatives in carriages. They spill out into the empty area in the middle of the courtyard around the stage. They bounce in fluffy dresses and white gloves and feathered hats and sparkly jewels and every other possession that has slipped through my unsuspecting fingers.

Then finally the royal carriage approaches. Even through the shifting view I have, I can see it. The shine of the golden walls glares into my eyes, causing me to squint. Pure white horses trot over the cobblestone, pulling up to a halt in front of the stage.

My eyes are torn from the carriage as someone taps on my shoulder. I turn and stiffen immediately.

Florentine.

She smiles at me, “Hello, dear.”

I force my face to stay blank in attempts to maintain my disguise, “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Florentine laughs, “Cut the disguise dear, you aren’t fooling me. I know who you are, but I won’t say it aloud for your safety. I won’t stay long. I just have one question for you. What are you still doing in the city? And at the coronation, no less? Don’t you know people are constantly searching for you?”

“We are leaving tomorrow.” I murmur.

By now, Grace has noticed Florentine’s presence. I realize she has never truly met Florentine, just helped us prepare our disguises to meet her.

Florentine frowns, “Where are you staying?”

“In the next town over.”

“Don’t leave. Stay. Meet me in the courtyard tomorrow in the first hours of the morning. I have something important to discuss with you.”

I want to laugh at how similar this sounds to every promise she made back when I was still a princess searching for a murderer. She never told us anything very helpful, in fact she helped convince me that Grace was the murderer. However, I think she meant well and she always seemed to know all of the royal gossip. Now that I am out of the castle walls, she may know something that I don’t.

I find myself promising to meet with her.

She smiles, “Good, good. You know you are rather lucky you haven’t been caught yet. Your sister regrets the choice she made to allow you to walk free. Ever since the night you left, she’s sent hundreds of guards and investigators out to search for you. I don’t know if she’ll relax until she has you under her control again.”