The Fateful mistake
1297 Words
Isla’s POV
The voice on the other end of the call finally got through when I was still racing in my heart.
“Good evening,” said a man in a formal, calm voice. “Permit me to address Princess Isla Valeria.”
I swallowed. “I am Pri-princess Isla.”
“I am Lord Harlan Keene,” he went on. “I am Chamberlain of the Royal Council of Vensora.”
Of course he was.
I sat back on the couch, holding my phone still tighter. “Yes?”
“I am summoning in respect to your Majesty King Adrian Valeria, who has decided to lay down the crown,” he said. “The royal council has been made known. You, being his only sister , and heir apparent, are hereby called to come home, and take possession of your birthright.”
All over again my chest tightened. “I do not believe,” I said at once. “There has to be someone else. I don’t want this. I never agreed to this.”
A moment of silence followed along the line.
“Your own inclination is observed,” Lord Keene, said. “But it makes no difference to the decision of the council.”
“I am not fit to rule,” I said, and my voice went up. “I don’t live there. I do not know anything about the court. I don’t want to be queen.”
“You are a Valerian by birth,” said he. “That alone qualifies you.”
“That is not the way life is in the real world,” I rapped. “You can’t just—”
“A jet will take you tomorrow morning, you see, a private jet. It will land at 9:00 a.m. local time. Be prepared at 8.30 a.m. There will be transport to take you to the airport.”
“I am not coming,” I said.
“You are coming,” he replied.
His tone was polite. His words were not.
“Cooperation, Your Highness, we expect,” he went on. We hope you will come back to the council. Good evening.”
The call ended.
I looked at my phone in disbelief.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered.
I at once tapped the name of Adrian and called him.
No answer.
I tried again.
Still nothing.
“Of course,” I whispered.
I put my phone on the couch and pulled my hands down my face. I was tight in the chest, my thoughts loud and disordered.
Then my phone rang again.
This time, it was Elena.
I grabbed it immediately. “Elena.”
Isla, she replied, gasping. “Why didn’t you pick up? I’ve been calling you all day.”
“I was at the gym,” I said. “I just got home.”
Her voice dropped. “Did you hear?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. “My brother abdicated.”
She let out a shaky breath. “So you know.”
The Lord Chamberlain has just called me, I said. He informed me that I am being called to the throne.
A silence followed on the line.
Isla, I know you do not want this, Elena says. But you have to come home.”
“I don’t want the throne,” I said. “I don’t want to be queen. I don’t want any of it.”
You cannot run off this one, you see, she said.
“That throne destroyed the life of our mother,” I said. “She died because of it. That is another reason why I would avoid it.
“That is the reason you cannot, that is why you cannot,” Elena, replied. “Would you have the throne you lost your mother to be given away? A person not to care about the people? Would some one ruin all that she represented?”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m scared,” I whispered. “I don’t know how to do this. I will mess things up.”
“You won’t,” Elena said calmly. And even when you do, you will not be alone. Adrian is still here. And so am I.”
I swallowed hard.
“You promise?” I asked.
“Always,” she said.
I nodded although I could not be observed. “Thank you.”
We hung up a few seconds later.
I sat there quiet and gazed at the wall, and contemplated my life. The freedom. The city. The gym. The small apartment. The quiet mornings. The normal problems.
It was all soon to be destroyed.
My phone buzzed.
I checked it.
A message of the Royal Council.
It listed the jet details. The airport. The time. The name of the escort officer which would meet me.
Everything was all in readiness.
I laughed weakly.
“So that’s it,” I whispered.
I heard Adrian ringing in my ears.
Enjoy your last night as a free woman.
I stood up.
An hour later, I was in plain black dress and sneakers.
I took my purse and threw out of my apartment.
The bar wasn’t far. It was a silent, dimly-lit, not too crowded place. I went directly to the counter and gave my card to the bartender.
I would like to have that corner piece, said I. “All of it. No one else.”
He raised a brow. “That’ll cost extra.”
“I don’t care.”
He shook his head and dismissed two persons already seated. In a few minutes the place was mine.
I ordered my first drink.
Then my second.
Then my third.
The alcohol burnt my throat and loosened the knot in my chest.
I sat back in my seat and gazed at my glass.
That’s when I noticed him.
He sat a few seats away and watched me.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair.
He resembled one of the employees.
I raised my hand a little and beckoned with it towards him.
He began to stutter and got up and walked to him.
“Yes?” he asked.
I fished in my purse, and took out a five-hundred-dollar bill and dropped it on the counter.
He frowned. “What’s this?”
I can do more in case that is not enough, I said. I only need someone who can make my last night enjoyable.
His face changed to bewildered and then he was offended.
I am not a s*x worker, he replied.
My stomach dropped.
“Oh my God,” I said quickly. “I’m so sorry. I imagined-- I did not say-- I am so sorry.
He contemplated me a while, and sighed.
“It’s fine,” he said. “You looked drunk.”
“I am,” I admitted.
He sat down next to me.
“So,” he said, “why are you here?”
I am making the most of my life, before it is snatched off my hands, I answered.
He let out a small chuckle. “I know how that feels.”
I glanced at him. “You do?”
“Yeah,” he said. I am also trying to have my last night in this city before I go out to do something which is a lifelong promise.
“That sounds awful,” I muttered.
“It is,” he admitted.
I took another drink. The room began to spin.
I bent over his shoulder without consciously thinking about it.
He smelled clean. Warm. Comforting.
I looked up at him.
I said, perhaps, we can assist one another.
He hesitated.
I drew near and mumbled,
“What do you say? One night... you know, you can leave your name out, you can leave your strings out, just... two people?
- Writer
