Page 32 of Coronation
“The Dark House,” I read, feeling myself frown at the name, which is vaguely familiar. “What is that?”
“A movie, filming just north of Dalmore, in Balloch Castle, Your Highness. It’s a highly anticipated motion picture, and the cast is said to have, ah,broken the internet.” He sounds a little irritated to have been forced to say such an undignified combination of words.
I glance up, bemused. “You want me to be in a movie?”
Thomas appears horrified at the very suggestion. “Goodness no, sir. You’ll be visiting the set. It’s been arranged for you to take a tour, given by the director, George Matron himself, before meeting some of the major actors. I must say, I wasskeptical when the firm suggested it, but I do believe the strategy is good. Many of these actors are popular with the younger demographics we are trying to appeal to, and seeing you on good terms with them can only help. To reinforce this impression, they will be attending the palace’s first garden party of the season, along with some of the other desirable guests we discussed.”
So much has happened since our last meeting, I’d quite forgotten the queen candidate they’d been planning to shove at me. The thought of it alone is enough to make my stomach twist uncomfortably, but as my gaze falls back to the list of appearances Thomas provided, I find I have more pressing concerns to address.
Since I left Fernmoor House, I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time replaying the days I spent with Zelda Flowers. As such, I’m confident she never mentioned the name of the project she was here working on. Stelland’s tax incentives and its beautiful wild landscape make the North Country a popular movie location, but even so, there can’t be a very long list of high-profile projects filming at the moment.
Which means there is a very decent chance thatThe Dark Houseis Zelda’s movie.
My palms are damp as I lean back in my chair, watching Thomas shuffle through his paperwork, searching for the next horrid document to hand me.
It shouldn’t be a question at all of whether I should go—I know I shouldn’t. The woman undoubtedly loathes me now, and not one thing about our circumstances has changed. There is nothing to be gained from going, except angering her, and the logical thing to do here would be to refuse this stop on the PR tour and continue my efforts to put Zelda Flowers behind me.
Possessed by a sudden urgency to know for sure, I clear my throat. “Who is acting in this movie?” I ask Thomas, keepingmy voice as flat and uninterested as it ever is while I’m seated in this particular chair.
My press secretary pauses, reaching for his phone on the table and squinting down at the screen, his lips pursed as he pulls something up. “It seems the lead actors are Davina Lovette, Killian Cassidy, Harris Dixon, and Zelda Flowers. All four are rising stars, allegedly, though I can’t say I’ve seen any of their movies. Hollywood drivel, no doubt.” He sniffs as he lowers his phone, returning his attention to the paperwork.
God, he’s a snob. It would irritate me more if I hadn’t been sent reeling by the confirmation he just provided.
A part of me, a selfish, cowardly one, doesn’t want to come face-to-face with the hurt or anger in Zelda’s eyes, knowing I’m the one who put them there. The memories of our time together are some of the happiest of my life, even colored by guilt at my later actions. Could I stomach thinking of them if I knew the woman on her knees for me in my memories would one day hate me?
“That will be all,” I hear myself say as my press secretary fiddles with the remote to the monitor, clearly intent on subjecting me to another soul-numbing presentation on my many flaws as a public figure.
I stand.
The old man blinks at me, bemused. “Sir?”
“I said that’s all, Thomas, I believe I’ve got the gist of it. In the future, these meetings can be summarized in an email.”
At the spluttering I receive in response to this order, anyone would think I’d just told old Thomas we’d be declaring war on Antarctica. “But, sir. Your brother?—”
“Is dead and gone. His waterlogged corpse is rotting in the abbey as we speak,” I remind him grimly as I fold the paper containing the details of my visit to Zelda’s movie, tucking it securely into my inside breast pocket. “You’re stuck with me now, Thomas. And I would prefer this as an email.”
Then, ignoring the man’s horrified expression, I cross to the door, pulse racing. After spending the past two weeks in various degrees of guilt-ridden misery, even the possibility of seeing Zelda again is comparable to a shot of adrenaline.
Without stopping to speak to or acknowledge a single person, I stride through the palace to my rooms, an irrational sense of urgency vibrating beneath my skin. The door has barely closed with a heavy bang behind me before I’m sitting down at the table with my laptop, my fingers flying over the keys.
All the air goes out of me at the first results that come up.
A simple internet search has yielded hundreds of articles, videos, and images, all dedicated to the same dazzling young actress. None of them seems to be compatible with the woman I came to know, however. I scroll past picture after picture—everything from headshots to stills from movies, to posters of her in black leather and fangs, to grainy paparazzi photographs of her stepping out of a coffee shop. No matter how long I stare, I can’t quite reconcile the poised starlet with the pink-cheeked, wild-haired young woman who danced with me in a country pub.
It is her, though. The starlet and the girl in the country pub are the same, and I find myself wholly captivated by both.She is so beautiful.
A sour taste fills my mouth when I scroll down the page a little further, only to find myself staring at the image of her on the red carpet, under the arm of a grinning blond man. It’s fairly alarming how quickly I decide I hate him.
Unwilling to take the chance of seeing more of them together, I turn my attention to her bio at the top of the search engine.
Zelda Moon Flowers (25)
Born:June 11 (Los Angeles, CA)
Spouse:N/A
Children:N/A
