Chasing Royalty

17

Augustine stands, “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be. Just be sure to—”

“Pronounce my words clearly and speak loud enough. I know. You’ve told me enough times.” I finish for him.

“Yes, I suppose I have. Good luck. You may be dismissed.”

I curtsy and exit from his room. I hurry back to the Sitting Room, where Grace patiently waits for me.

She joins me when I enter. I whisper, “Grab a piece of paper and a quill. I need you to copy down something for me.”

She curtsies and hurries from the room. I tap fingers against my arm, anxiously waiting for her to return. The paper sits in my shoes, begging to be read. I can’t open it in front of the guards. We’ll need somewhere to read it privately.

Grace pushes back through the door, the supplies in her hand.

I turn to the guards, “Is there a room where we may discuss private matters?”

One of them nods and leads us out into the halls. I motion for Grace to follow me. He leads us to a room similar to Augustine’s office. A small room with a table.

I nearly push Grace inside and slam the door behind us.

“What is it?” Fear shakes in Grace’s voice.

I rip off my shoe, pulling out the wrinkled paper. I unfold it with shaking hands, scanning through the barely visible handwriting.

“Where did you acquire this?”

“My tutor.”

“He gave this to you?”

“I might have stolen it.”

Grace’s eyes flash, but she doesn’t say anything more. She refocuses on the words and I do the same. It’s broken fragments of words, scribbled sentences and circled letters.

The girl – no. Too easy. The servant’s trial too unusual. Servants’ refusal. Perhaps false information. Intended? The investigator—the words following are too scribbled to understand—possible. William acting suspicious. The night of the murder was unusual. True emotion or faked? How do the servants and Emilienne connect? The public—more crossed out words—truth or security?

The entire page continues on, words piled on top of each other. It’s impossible to decipher any of it.

Grace peers at it, “He was trying to figure out who did it?”

“Yes, I thought stealing it could help us.”

“He’s going to know you stole it.”

I shrug, “He can’t accuse me of stealing it without turning himself in.”

Grace rolls her eyes, “Maybe not, but you won’t escape the consequences with him.”

Unless I blackmail him into acting like it never happened.

I force the thought from my head. I can’t do something like that. William or Victor would do that, not me.

I ask, “Could you copy down everything you can read? If anyone asks, I came up with the ideas and wrote down the words myself. You’ll have no blame in this.”

“Except that it’ll be clearly in my handwriting.”

“Fine, I came up with the ideas and forced you to write them down.”

Grace sighs and begins copying down the words. “You know I can take some blame for myself. You don’t have to continuously shield me from the responsibility of our actions.”

I press my lips together, “If we’re caught, I’m going to need someone to do my hair.”

Grace rolls her eyes and falls silent, focusing on the paper before her. After she’s finished neatly writing all of Augustine’s words, she hands me both the papers. “What is your plan for these?”

“I’ll need to return Augustine’s paper to him. Maybe I can do it without him noticing.”

“And the other paper? Where can we hide that? There are guards around us at all times, and we have no private quarters. If you request for anything to be put away confidentially, I’m sure that someone will go through it. The suspicions are running too high for it to be done any other way.”

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, “I’ll find someplace to put it. I’ll put it back in my shoe for now and figure it out after the funeral.”

Grace straightens in her chair, “I could sew in extra pocket into your corset. We’ll figure out a place to hide it at night.”

“Brilliant. I’ll return the paper and you sew the pocket before the funeral.”

Grace nods, “We should go back to the Sitting Room before this conversation becomes too suspicious.”

We scurries from the room, thanking the guards. They push open the doors revealing Augustine waiting impatiently inside. His wrinkled face flushes with anger.

He bows when he sees me. “Princess Admira, may I request your company? It’s rather important.”

The stolen paper itches against my foot. I lick my lips, “What would be so important? I met with you only a few minutes ago. What could have come up so quickly?”

“I’m having second thoughts about something we put down in the speech. I think we might want to look it over again. It will only take but a minute, I’m sure. Do you have something more important to be doing at this time? If you don’t have the time, I suppose I could consult William about it.”

I curtsy, “I have a few minutes to spare, but only a few. My lady in waiting needs plenty of time to prepare me for the funeral this afternoon.”

Augustine smiles tightly, “Perfect, hopefully we can get this resolved quickly.”

He strides from the room. I hurry after him, trying not to anger him more than he already is.

We step into his office and he closes the door tightly behind us. He turns on his heel, “Give the paper back to me.”

I don’t waste any time. I slip off my shoe, take out his paper, and hand it back to him. The copy of the paper sits inside Grace’s shoe to be sewn into the hidden pocket.

Augustine unfolds the paper with shaking hands, his eyes scanning over it. “You stole it?”

“I borrowed it.”

His eyes flash in anger. “You stole it.”

I shrug, trying to maintain my careless façade. I press my shaking hands behind my back so he doesn’t see them.

“You read this?”

I bite back the sarcastic remarks and only nod.

“And? Are you turning me in for treachery? Are you looking forward to seeing my head roll? Maybe you’ll find a new tutor that doesn’t force you to read poetry.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to turn you in. I just wanted to know your ideas. Every single second I’m terrified that the person next to me or behind me is my sister’s murderer. Someone could be within these very castle walls plotting my death right now. I prefer to have at least some idea as to who it could be.”

“So you stole my paper.”

“It’s not as if you were going to let me read it if I hadn’t stolen it. It doesn’t matter anyway. I couldn’t read half the things you wrote.”

Augustine watches me carefully, staying silent.

“Can you explain it to me?” I ask.

“Do I have a choice in the matter or is this simply disguised blackmail?”

I cross my arms over my chest, “It isn’t blackmail. I can’t kill you for the same crimes I’ve committed. I don’t trust that Justin was the murderer and I don’t trust Victor as the investigator. I don’t know who I can trust.”

Augustine shakes his head, “I’m afraid I don’t either. Trust your sisters, you have more security together. I don’t know how you feel about me, but I’d hate to lose you.”

I don’t know how to respond to those words, so I change the subject. “What do you think of the investigator, Victor?”

“I suppose he seems a little suspicious. He was in charge of Justin’s trial and there certainly was something not right there. I have not personally talked to the man, though, so I can’t make any serious accusations.”

“Who do you think did it?”

Augustine opens his mouth, hesitates, and then shakes his head. “We can’t be discussing this, Admira.”

“I need to know. I can’t continue to live in fear of every single person in the castle.”

“It’s not safe to discuss it.”

“Then we’ll go somewhere else. We’ll send the guards away.”

“No. It’s not safe to discuss at all. Not here, not anywhere else. Never.”

“Why not?”

Augustine only shakes his head. “Words are powerful, Admira, remember? These accusations could bring us both to executions. We must forget about it. The guards, investigator, and William are all here for our safety.”

I press my lips together. When will there be someone willing to find out the truth for themselves? The only other willing person was Emilienne. Perhaps her fate should be a message to me.

I swallow hard, returning back to our normal, stiff formality. “Was that all you needed, sir? I must be getting ready for my sister’s funeral.”

Augustine sighs, “Yes, you are dismissed.”

I march from the room and straight to Grace in the Sitting Room. She searches my features for some sort of answer on how the meeting went.

I shake my head tightly and fall to the nearest chair. Grace wordlessly hands me a corset. It’s identical to how it was before, except I hear the soft crinkle of the copied paper inside.

●◊●◊●

Grace shifts the sleeve of the dress over my shoulder. It’s a sweeping black gown, dark jewels glistening around the edges. Grace pins up the last of my blonde hair.

I catch my reflection in the mirrored glass, shocking me with the true reality of the situation. I’m dressed in my best funeral dress. I’ll be giving a speech to the public about my sister before seeing her lifeless body in a casket. We’ll go to the royal cemetery and bury beneath the earth. Emilienne truly is dead.

My blue eyes fill with tears.

Grace quickly catches any tears that fall from my eyes, to keep it from smudging the tedious makeup. “Oh, Admira, it’ll be okay. This is hard, but it will help you move on.”

I force myself to take slow deep breaths. A queen would be able to keep her emotions in check. William might be watching to see how we control our tears at the funeral.

How can he continue the competition at a time like this? Where are the vases with the cubes inside? What have been done with Emilienne’s?

I ask, “Where are the vases of the contest?”

Grace refuses to meet my eye. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see them.”

I search her face, “Why not?”

“Will you just take my word for it?”

“No, I need to see it for myself.”

Grace stands, “Fine, follow me.”

She strides out of the room. I hop up from my chair and follow her out into the corridor. The guards wordlessly trail after us, ready to defend us.

Grace leads me to the entryway of the castle. The furniture has been rearranged since we first arrived. A table has been pressed against the wall. The same table that sat in the Royal Gallery.

Except now there are only three vases.

What was done to Emilienne’s?

I step closer, comparing the number of cubes in each vase.

I’m still in last place, but I only have two or three less than Violette. Alexanne still has a lot more than both Violette and I, but it’s not as many as before. I might still have a chance at winning this competition. I just have to continue copying everything that Alexanne does. Are we every going to have an organized competition?

I sigh, “I still don’t know what I’ve been doing wrong.”

Grace stares at the cubes, “How do you know what they mean?”

“We don’t. We just figure that the person with the most cubes by the time we turn sixteen will be crowned queen.”

“What if it’s the other way around? What if the cubes mark the things you’ve done wrong? Maybe you get a cube every time you fail to live up to William’s expectations.”