Page 52 of A Valiant Prince

“So, you all want to go to Edinburgh in the morning?” Jack asks.

Everyone nods.

“I’ll have your security arrange a trip. Please note, if we have any intel that concerns me, then the trip will not happen,” he says as we begin walking back down the drive to the gatehouse. Cain is at the door when we arrive back. Pete and Nico have been introduced to the five men, but now Pete relieves Cain and Jack motions for him to head up to the manor to meet the security team as well. “It’s important everyone knows everyone by tomorrow morning.”

I’m not sure why he says this, but I have a feeling that everything Jack does is carefully planned and strategized in advance. Anna and I bid goodnight to everyone and retire to our room once we’re back inside.

She immediately walks over to the box I brought from my grandparents’ home.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I just want to go through this stuff again,” she says.

“Why?” I ask. “I mean, we can go through it later. Aren’t you tired?”

She shrugs as she opens the box, and I know I’m not going to sleep. I sit down on the floor next to her. The old floorboard creaks as I settle myself. She lays out the contents, including the “lover’s eye” and starts going through the photographs and journals.

I settle myself back against a wooden chest at the foot of the bed and begin to read the articles again. This time I start with the ones my mother wrote. They are in order from the time she first arrived in Europe until shortly before I was born. They trace a series of wealthy men, anti-monarchists, and politicians. I stop as I realize that I’ve categorized them. I slowly go through them again, setting them into piles on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Anna asks.

“I…I’m not sure,” I admit as I begin to go back through in their categories. It’s then that I realize there’s a pattern to them. My mother’s journal had indicated that she was first here to cover the anti-monarchist movement in Montelandia. So, it makes sense that her earliest articles were about the individuals involved in that movement. But then she somewhat abruptly stopped covering them and began to cover politicians. Now, it’s not a crazy move. The anti-monarchists clearly had gotten the attention of some politicians who backed their cause. However, it’s the next move that leaves me pondering where my mother was going with her investigation. After investigating three different politicians, she began to write articles on businessmen. She did write two more on politicians after that, but then the remaining were about several businessmen. She didn’t come out and say they were bankrolling the anti-monarchist movement, but her investigation implies that this may have been the case.

I look at the journal where she made notes during that time period. Her journals were always dated in the front. I can feel Anna’s gaze on me, but I’m deep into my search. Something about the last businessman jogs a memory.

“Anna, do you know who Sebastian Bach is?” I ask her. Her eyes widen slightly, letting me know she does know him.

“Yes…” she says slowly. “He was in a photo we found in the box. Why?”

“How do you know him?” I ask.

“He owns and operates the largest commercial transport company in our area of Europe. He was friendly with my parents,” she says and frowns.

“What?” I ask.

“He was in charge of the charity event, the gala, my mother was attending the night she died,” Anna says.

“Do you know if he’s an anti-monarchist?” I ask her.

Her eyes widen further. “Oh no. Of course not, he’s always been very supportive of our family,” she says.

“Are you sure?” I ask her.

She sighs. “I…I’m not sure. I have never heard that he has ties to that movement,” she admits.

I place a hand on hers. “I’m not saying that he’s behind this, but we need to look at every angle, right?” I ask her.

“Yes, you’re very right,” she says, her tone tells me she’s admitting this begrudgingly.

“Anna, listen to me. Whoever is after us, they are likely going to be in the inner circle. They will be someone you trust,” I say to her.

“I know,” she whispers. She takes a deep breath. “It’s just hard to reconcile it, you know?”

“I know,” I say as I squeeze her hand.

“Sebastian doesn’t have any shady ties, as far as I know,” she says, biting her lip.

“Can you search him?” I inquire.

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