Page 21 of The Bodyguard

Chapter Ten

Sophia

I can’t stop hugging my little sister. Thankfully she had been too engrossed in her puzzle to be fullyaware of the danger she had been in some hours ago. Even when Igor entered the room, he was careful not to startle her.

“Your highness. I’m afraid we have to take care of other things too,” Margo Henry says. She is standing next to Rachelle, my lady in waiting.

Margo is six feet tall, light blonde and doesn’t take nonsense. She’s head of royal communications and putting us royals in the best light no matter the situation is her job. There isn’t anything she can’t cover up or spin.

I’m so tired I want to take my sister, crawl into bed and just hold her.

“This way, your highness.”

She steers me away from Lia and out of the room.

I’m led to my bedroom. The two women on either side of me. My two bodyguards are one in front of us and one behind as if I’m at a public event. But this is my home. I should be able to move around freely.

I understand the need though. A member of FATM had been right under our noses all this time. We don’t know who else on our staff is in their employ. If my own uncle, a man I trusted all my life could turn against us, no one else is exempt.

“Where’s Uncle Neil?” I ask. My blood begins to simmer at the thought of my uncle. I can’t believe the scope of violence he triggers in me. All those years of thinking he was on my side, only to discover he had been planning to usurp the throne. And he led an entire organization into following him and doing his bidding.

If FATM thought my uncle was going to give them what they wanted, they couldn’t be more wrong. Now that I’m able to see Uncle Neil without my rose-tinted glasses, I realize how selfish he is. How there were many times when the things we did were sabotaged and we had no clue how it was orchestrated.

He played us.

He wanted the throne for power, to feed his greed. He wouldn’t care about the man on the street.

I sigh when I think of all my carefully laid plans regarding the FATM. All they want is jobs, free health care. As a country, we can’t afford this but we could if we open up our mines and step up on tourism, every Strohamden citizen will benefit.

And we could do this without going further into debt. We have coffers filled with jewels and crowns, from as early back as the seventeen hundreds. Gifts given to our country by other kings and queens and emperors and sheiks. The total value of which comes to over one hundred billion dollars. For a country our size, the sum is colossally significant.

But my father won’t hear of selling them off. He gets angry when I bring it up then avoids me for days. He would rather our country remain the same but hold onto useless souvenirs.

The instant I’m away from my sister a severe numbness sets into my bones.I can’t think anymore and I allow myself to be controlled.

I’m a puppet and someone else is pulling my royal strings. In this case the head of royal communications, my lady in waiting, and my personal maid.

“There is to be dinner. At seven sharp. The Duke of Burkings is here and his son, Roger Thompson. I’ve invited Ministers Carlten and Jacobsen and their wives. If ever there is even an inkling of what transpired in the cabin to the public, the ministers’ wives will set the rumors straight because they’ll see that you're perfectly fine at the dinner.

“We need to appease them. We need to let them see that everything is as previously planned, Your Highness, with your wedding. It’s supposed to be a festive occasion.” Margo flips her fingers up and down her Ipad.

She’s looking at images of my wardrobe, picking out the perfect dress to set the perfect tone, to embed the perfect lie in a shit storm of violence and death.

Cadelyn, my maid is running a bath for me and Rachelle guides me toward the shower cubicle.

I take off the T-shirt I’m wearing and something inside me is released. Images flash through my mind.

Kayne.

Kayne.

Kayne.

I remove the rest of my clothes, part of me wondering where my panties are, part of me hearing the sound of blood splattering.

I make the water as hot as I can go to keep the chill off my skin, but the only places I’m still hot are where he touched me. I shake that thought from my mind immediately. It’s a dark place to go to. A different kind of dark and once I allow myself those thoughts I won’t be able to come back.

I’m reminded I don’t have time and again numbly I wash my hair, lather up, rinse off then step into the steamy scented bath.

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