Page 160 of Hawthorne

“You can lie to yourself and everyone else nut not to me,” he tuts.

My mouth opens to fight him on it, but the maid stops abruptly before turning and announcing, “Here.”

Then she knocks, and a strong “Come in” is heard.

When the double doors open and the hall comes into view, my step falters upon the sight. The silence is deafening as the only heard sound is the creaking of the doors. My mother is sitting in a single chair with three guards surrounding her. One on each side and one behind. In the far back, on her right-hand side, is a hand-cuffed man with two other guards on his flanks.

“Vincent!” my mother calls, a tinge of panic present in it. “What is this? What is happening?”

My body deflates, as I already know this can only mean one thing.

Not letting myself dwell on it, I focus on Camilla. I can finally watch her properly for the first time since she left my hospital room. The first thing I notice is the breach in protocol clothing. She is wearing a black suit, no crown, honour staches, or medals, which is unheard of, but then again, besides a handful of guards, there aren’t media or outsiders here.

My mind goes back to my mother’s presence in this room. Camilla had vowed to find the one to blame, and watching her here. confirms my suspicions.

“Duke of Hawthorne,” Camilla’s cold and detached voice reverberates throughout the room. “Please, enter.”

I obey with Edgar on my tail. The walk is quick and awfully silent, and we both bow as soon as we reach the allowed distance to greet her.

“As promised.” She ignores all formalities. “Inside this room, you’ll be face to face with the man who fired the gun and almost killed you. But also…the woman who ordered the coup.”

“Nonsense,” my mother shrieks, outraged.

“He admitted to everything. How he used to work here in the palace and how she bribed him for information ever since the previous king was still alive. Also how she hired him to fake the security breach and killme.”

Edgar gasps out loud, and while I don’t, my heart still skips a beat. Throughout our lives, my brother was more in touch with our mother’s cruelty, but I think he had hoped it wasn’t her...

Hell, even I did.

“Fucking hell,” I breathe out, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“He lies!”

“Does he?” Camilla prompts, motioning her hand.

Joshua, King Charles’ main counsellor and closest confident—and now, Camilla’s, too—shows up with a few papers in his hand.

“Here.” He hands them to me.

In my good hand, I make sense of the papers. The payments are the one on top, and when Edgar takes that one from my hands, I see the proof that my mother has been in contact with him on multiple occasions. When my brother takes those, too, I see the official report on how the gun that was fired is...Fucking hell!

“There you can see all bank transfers, pictures of the public places they met, even the gun has the same serial number registered in your late father’s name.”

“And,” the queen chimes in, “Unless he left the grave on his own, I doubt he was the one to hand that man the gun.”

“How sensitive of you to mention my dead father,” I can’t help but snark.

“Sir,” Joshua warns. “Please address Her Majesty with full formality.”

“It’s alright,” she cuts him off. “I was out of line.”

Ignoring this shit show, I turn to my mother.

“Mother?”

“Oh, Vince,” she cries. “I didn’t do it. I swear. I am being framed!”

“Proof is here,” I counter. “Just admit it. There’s no point. You’re going down either way.”

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