Chapter 5
1140 Words
“You!!”
The head chef barked, eyes narrowing.
“You’re not a kitchen staff. Who let you in?”
Aaron, still as composed as a dove, turned around to face the square-headed chef who now had suspicion reeled out on his face. He reached into his suite and produced the golden seal which he had been given by Seraphina Windsor.
The chef’s scowl faltered. “That’s… Her Majesty’s?”
Aaron nodded, voice low. “Yes, the queen requested a personal inspection of the kitchen, and it's my duty to do so.”
The chef hesitated, as if trying to doubt his claims.
“Or would you mind speaking to the queen yourself?” Aaron offered him a radio.
The chef nodded, then stepped aside with a grunt. “Fine, but stay out of the way. We’re preparing the toast tray now, and I wouldn't like it to be tampered with.”
Aaron nodded and moved into the heart to the kitchen where steam hissed, pans clang against burners and chefs shot orders across the counter. At the center, stood a stoned faced security, his hands on the holster of his weapon.
Aaron offered a curt nod and drifted toward the silver serving cart. Sitting like royalty on the midsection was the champagne meant for the queen. He waited and when no one looked in his direction, with practised movements, he drew a vial from his sleeve. The liquid inside was as clear as dew. He uncorked the portion with a practiced flick and tilted the content into the champagne. No fizz, no cloud.
Outside, Gray had stolen the show. He was now surrounded by elites who listened to him brag.
“And Aaron?” Gray smirked. “Poor bastard. Used to think honor was currency. Now he’s just another nobody lurking under the shadows.”
A woman in emerald leaned in. “Didn’t he once serve in jail?”
“Briefly,” Gray said. “Before he got released and now serves at a bar.”
The crowd bursted into prolonged laughter, the type which leaves your ribs aching after a few minutes.
The queen was back, now wearing a sapphire embroidered dress and a hat made from gold. A steward presented the tray, and she selected the champagne Aaron had dipped.
Laywone raised his own glass. “To alliances that last longer than love.”
Gray joined.
“To Her Majesty,” someone added.
“To the future,” another said.
The Queen smiled faintly and sipped.
It took less than three minutes.
Her hand trembled first, then her breath slowed, shallow and sharp. She staggered, one heel slipping on the grass.
“Are you OK, your Majesty?” a man gasped.
The Queen staggered and held on to the edge of her chair as the champagne glass shattered beside her.
Chaos erupted.
“Call the physicians!”
“Clear the area!”
“Get the stretcher!”
Doctors surged from the wings, summoned by hidden signals. Nurses followed, their faces pale. The Queen was lifted, her body limp, her pulse faint.
Gray’s face was drained of color. “What…what happened?”
Aaron, now among the crowd, watched from the shadows. His expression, unreadable.
The Queen was carried out, as tension and confusion lurked on everyone's face. Master Laywone stepped forward, his voice rang out like terror across the lounge.
“Lock the gates. No one leaves, no one enters.”
Security snapped to attention. The garden’s laughter had died; now only orders rang out.
“Listen carefully,” Laywone continued, his tone was cold steel. “Anyone without the Queen’s golden seal is to be removed. Immediately.”
Murmur rippled through the crowd as everyone clung to their royal seal.
Security fanned out, checking guests one by one. The garden transformed into a tribunal.
Master Laywone, scanned the crowd as if he was looking for a culprit. His eyes landed on a lone figure near the marble fountain.
Aaron.
Laywone’s lip curled. “There he is.”
“Let’s see if the Queen’s favorite still holds her favor.”
Aaron watched as they approached him, flanked by two guards in ceremonial black.
“Aaron,” Laywone said, voice smooth with disdain. “Your seal, NOW!”
Aaron turned, calm but alert. “I have it,” he said, reaching into his coat.
His fingers met fabric, then emptiness.
His breath paused, it wasn’t there.
He had left it on the silver tray in the cuisine section, in his haste.
“I… I left it inside,” he said quickly. “In the kitchen. I had clearance…”
Laywone raised a brow. “How convenient.”
Gray stepped closer. “You expect us to believe you wandered into the Queen’s cuisine without her seal?”
“I showed it to the head chief,” Aaron insisted. “He let me in. I…”
“No seal,” Laywone interrupted. “No story.”
Aaron’s voice sharpened. “You know who I am.”
Laywone smirked. “A man without a seal is just a man.”
The security seized him. One gripped his arm, the other his collar.
“Wait,” Aaron snapped. “This is a mistake. I’m…”
“You’re trespassing,” Laywone said. “And you’re leaving.”
Aaron struggled, but the security was trained for more than ceremony. They dragged him across the garden, past stunned guests and whispering elites.
“Isn’t that Aaron?”
“What happened?”
“How was he allowed in without clearance?”
“No… he was her envoy once, wasn’t he?”
“Not anymore.”
They reached the gate, the security shoved it open and hurled him out like a disaster.
Aaron hit the gravel hard, palms scraping, coat torn, people laughing. And then the golden gate of the estate slammed shut behind him.
He sat there, breathing heavily. His fingers were itching for revenge. No one, not Laywone, not Gray, not the Elites who had mocked him, knew the truth that he was the mayor of London.
And he had just orchestrated the first coup of his career.
His phone buzzed.
He pulled it from his pocket, thumb trembling.
There was a message on the screen:
“GOOD WORK, THE QUEEN IS DOWN. COME, GET YOUR MOTHER.
25 JUDE AVENUE BYPASS.”
He stared at the screen, the words burning brighter than the garden lights.
Whoever this was, he didn't know that, instead of poison, he had laced the queen’s champagne with a harmless chemical, only strong enough to knock her out for a few hours and that was it.
That should buy him enough time to retrieve his mother.
Just enough time.
In a few hours, the Queen should be awake; and by then he would be far from the estate.
From all this madness.
- Writer
