Page 25 of Learning to Rule

I’m bundled off my horse, the guards surrounding me. I don’t have a chance to think as I’m virtually carried, like I’m weightless, into the building nearest the entrance to the parade ground—a Georgian mansion under the control of the palace.

“What is going on?” I question, my breathing quick and ragged.

I wait for my father and mother to be ushered into the room, but no one else comes. I shout again as the men with me barricade the door and pull me away from the windows and into a dark corner.

“Please, Your Highness, there’s a security incident. We’ll update you as soon as possible.”

I nod rapidly knowing they have a job to do. The thought of a terrorist attack on the crowds of people who gathered to see us swims through my head—the innocent men, women and children in the crowd being harmed. My stomach lurches.

God, please don’t let anyone be hurt.

It seems to take forever. I feel like I’ve been standing frozen in the room for an eternity. I’m surrounded by men who’d lay down their life for me. They have their guns drawn, prepared to shoot should they need to. I’m military trained and have my own weapon at the ready, but using it will be a last resort for me. These men will protect me with their lives.

My mouth dries.

My head throbs.

I can hear nothing from outside.

It’s eerily silent.

So quiet that when a bang comes to the door, I almost jump out of my skin.

“Who is it?” the officer in charge of the men looking after me questions.

“Mr. Hinchbottom, personal secretary to Prince Dalton.”

A couple of the guards are motioned forward, and they check through a peephole before turning back to their superior and nodding.

“Open up.”

They open the door and I stumble backward when I see the sight of my personal secretary. His face is white as a sheet—he looks like a ghost, but it’s the blood all over his formal suit that shocks me the most.

“What happened?” I step forward. “Are people hurt? How can I help?

I’m desperate to assist in any way I can. I’m sure my father is somewhere safe and in hiding. He won’t show his face until the mess is cleared up, but my entire being is telling me I need to assist in some way.

Hinchbootie opens his mouth to talk to me but instantly closes it again. I can see him struggling with whatever he’s seen outside.

“It’s me, Hinchbootie. Come on, you can tell me what’s going on. You know I’ll sort it out or at least I’ll try.”

His mouth quivers before he falls to his knees in a low bow. He holds his hand out in front of him. The rest of the men in the room must sense or understand something I don’t as they all fall to their knees as well.

Hinchbootie opens his hand and turns it over. In the palm of his hand, I can see the ring of the King of Janastria. My father’s ring. It’s covered in blood.

The edges of my world darken as I begin to understand what this all means.

I don’t need to voice what is happening as Hinchbootie looks directly at me and announces, “The king is dead. Long live the king.”

Thirteen

Elodie

“And relax.” I gracefully come out of the dancer’s pose that the class and I have been concentrating on for the last five minutes. It’s an elegant pose, which allows the hips to stretch as we stand on one leg with the other stretched out behind us. It does require a phenomenal amount of balance, though. “Well done, everyone. I was looking at your poses, and I can see you’ve really been working on them while I’ve been away.”

The permanent pang of regret knots in my stomach.

Dalton…I miss him so much.

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