The Crown Prophecy

Chapter 10

M y heart and feet were heavy as I made my trek back to the village that night.

When I opened the door, I found Mother standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips and fury on her face.

“Is everything all right, Mother?” An alarm blared in my mind, telling me to choose my words very carefully.

Turning away, she started a slow prowl around the living room. She picked some pilling off the knit throw on the back of the settee and leveled her gaze at me again.

“I had a very interesting conversation with Sasha today. She visited the tailor this morning.” Shit. “Did you know that his daughter Marisol has spent the last month at the palace?”

I said nothing. It was imperative that I found out exactly how much she knew before I built a defense. I couldn’t afford to make this any worse than it already was.

“Strangely enough, Marisol was under the impression that she had seen you there as well,” Mother continued. “I was convinced she was mistaken, and I told Sasha as much, but then she mentioned Permelia had been hired onto the royal staff.” Her eyes narrowed at me, lips pursed together in a razor thin line of anger. “That’s why you haven’t been listening to me. You’ve been lying to me for a month because you’ve been with her.”

“I can explain,” I started. I could only pray to the gods to help me somehow spin the right words to get out of this.

Mother advanced toward me, rage fueling every clack of her kitten heels. “And worse, you’ve been with them. ” The snide edge she reserved for the royal family made its way into her tone. “Tell me, did you enjoy your time in their gilded castle? Did they charm you with their gaudy magic? I hope all their party tricks didn’t make you forget that you’re nothing more than dirt to them.”

Of all the things she has said about the royals, that statement stung the most. I wasn’t dirt to Evander.

Was I?

“You always were desperate for attention, Quinn,” she sneered. “I bet you felt so important working for The Crown .”

I fought to keep my tone neutral. “I was only in the kitchen, Mother. I’ve never even met the queen.” True enough.

There was no jeering in her next words; all that remained was a hatred as cold as the metal of a blade plunged deep into snow. “You have no idea the kind of people they are, Quinn. No idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

I hated when she talked down to me. I hated that she treated me like a rebellious child. I hated that she made me feel incapable of making decisions without her assistance.

“A job, Mother,” I fired back. “A stable job that I actually enjoy. An excuse to be out of this living hell of a home.”

She recoiled as if I had slapped her.

“How dare you speak to me that way after all I’ve done for you? I have put a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and have loved you more than you deserved.”

More than I deserved? Those words, cruelest of all, were more than I could handle, and years of pent-up rage erupted from me..

“Love? Is that what you call this? Manipulating me into submission, not allowing me to have my own friends, my own life, trying to keep me compliant so you could turn me into a miniature version of you? That’s not love, Mother.”

“Oh, and I suppose Permelia loves you better than I do? A woman who isn’t even blood, who schemes to take you away from us because she doesn’t have children of her own? I bet you missed her, didn’t you?” she asked, acid dripping from her words. “The mother you wish you had.”

“YES!” I yelled at her. “Yes, I did! Is that what you wanted to hear? I am so sick and tired of the fighting and the melodrama and the echo chamber of this house! Working at the castle has made me happy. But you can’t stand that, can you? You need me to be miserable just like you.”

Without warning, her open palm connected with my cheek, the sting hot and angry.

“Get. Out,” she ordered, her voice deadly quiet. “If you want to escape so badly, go. But don’t expect me to take you back.” It only took one look at the hard set of her jaw to know she wasn’t bluffing.

My hand flew up to my face where she had struck me. I met her gaze. Her eyes held no remorse.

I fled past her into my room, grabbing the rucksack that hung on the post of my bedframe and filling it with as much as I could. Struggling to make decisions about what to take as the adrenaline surged through my system, I grabbed things at random: an extra set of clothing, my hairbrush, some books, and the stack of letters from my father I had hidden under my bed.

When I made it back to the parlor, Mother was holding the door open. Betrayal and wrath and righteous indignation swirled on her face. The sight threatened to make the moisture in my eyes overflow.

I would not let her see me cry. I was not going to give her the satisfaction.

Without a word, I pushed past her and held the tears that threatened to fall, even when her cottage was a speck of light behind me.

. . .

It wasn’t until I was staring up at the iron gates of the castle that I realized I didn’t know if I would even be afforded entry, but I didn’t know where else to go. I needed Mellie immediately. There was a hole in my heart in the shape of a mother’s comfort and guidance that only she could fill. But first I had to get into the castle.

It towered over me in the darkness, cutting an ever more intimidating figure than it did during the day. There must have been a shift change in the last hour, because I didn’t recognize any of the guards walking just inside the perimeter. No one had noticed me yet, but it would undoubtedly be worse to be found lurking in the shadows.

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand and summoning whatever courage I had left, I approached.

“Excuse me?” I called out. “I’m a baker in the kitchens and I need to be let back into the palace.”

The nearest guard eyed me with the distrust I’d expected, advancing slowly but staying behind the gate.

“And why would you be out here at this hour?” he asked. “Staff live on the grounds.”

“I’ve been given special dispensation to commute from the village,” I explained, already knowing how this conversation would go. After all, I’d had it once before. Mellie wouldn’t be coming to save me this time.

“Do you have proof of identity?”

I searched my mind frantically for something, anything that would help my case.

“This morning we served eggs benedict for breakfast?” A feeble attempt, but it was worth a try.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not enough,” the guard said, his expression equal parts pity and suspicion as his hand moved to rest on his sword.

My eyes welled up again and I turned away from him to hide my face. I had no idea where I was going to go. How had this happened?

“Let her in,” came a rumbling voice from within the gate.

I whipped around at the unmistakable sound.

Evander.

He was breathing heavily, as if he had run here from the fourth floor, and looked disheveled in his nightclothes, his hair mussed.

“Yes, your Highness,” the guard bowed, and I swore I could feel the ward ripple around me as I stepped onto the grounds.

The prince gave me a stern look and jerked his head toward the castle in a clear command to follow.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said, making sure to use his proper title for anyone who may be listening. The castle would already be abuzz with gossip the next morning about the unkempt prince showing up at the castle gates at almost midnight.

“Follow me,” he directed, not looking back. For the first time, I was thankful for the four flights of stairs and the time they gave me to figure out how to explain away what just happened.

Would he believe me if I said I’d lost my way and ended up outside the gates by accident? Unlikely. Should I pretend I had quit? Mellie may not get fired for my less-than-cordial attitude, but if Queen Evalina had asked that my working conditions be kept a secret from her son, I imagined a breach of that trust might get Mellie in some serious trouble.

Evander opened the door to his rooms, ushered me inside, and began pacing toward the window, looking down at the grounds near the gate.

“Do I even want to know why you were outside the wards?” he fumed.

“Probably not.” My honesty likely wouldn’t get me out of explaining myself, but it was worth a shot.

“If this is about what happened the other night and you’ve quit your post because of our conversation, I’d be extremely disappointed in you.” He turned toward me and stalked my way. “You have more fire in you than–” he stopped short, training his gaze on my right cheek.

“Who is responsible for this?” he growled.

I glanced behind him at my reflection in the glass of the windows. An angry red handprint stained my face, and I cringed as I saw what looked to be a burst blood vessel marring my undereye, though it was hard to tell without a proper mirror.

“Quinn,” he said, holding my jaw in his hand and turning my face towards him. “Who did this? I can promise you they will be out of the castle tonight.” Carefully restrained anger simmered just beneath the surface of the vow.

“No one,” I lied, already aware of what an unbelievable excuse I was about to make. “I fell asleep with my head on my hand. It must’ve left a mark.” I laughed, the hollow sound unconvincing even to my ears.

“And this?” he asked, running the pad of his thumb gently under my eye.

I didn’t have an excuse for that.

“Quinn,” his eyes softened. “You have to know I can’t let this go. Tell me.”

“It wasn’t anyone here,” I said, hoping the partial truth would pacify him enough to drop it.

“So it was someone outside the gates,” he said. “Why were you outside the grounds?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” I hedged.

“Honestly, preferably.”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.” As soon as the words left my lips, I was aware of my mistake.

Evander took a step back, betrayal in his eyes. “And who ordered you to keep quiet?”

Shit. From the fear on his face, he probably thought this was an assassination attempt.

“No, no, it isn’t like that,” I hurried to interject. “I just don’t want my friend to get in trouble. I have a . . . special arrangement.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

I had no choice but to be honest and hope that he would continue to surprise me with his leniency. After all, I had given him reason after reason to fire me over the last month, and in spite of my attitude and insults we had somehow ended up . . .friends?

I sighed. “I’ve been commuting from the village by special permission from your mother. You’re not supposed to know.”

Relief showed on his face for a heartbeat before the worry took over.

“How long?” he asked, caught somewhere between anger and frantic concern.

“Since I started working here.”

“Oh, gods.” He rubbed his brow. “Is there anyone else?”

“Not that I know of. I’ve been so careful, I promise. It hasn’t been a security risk.”

“That’s not–” He rubbed his temples. “The reason we limit people coming and going from the palace isn’t a matter of security. Not directly, anyway. Every time someone enters or leaves the palace, the wards do a check on the person’s intent,” he said. “It takes a drop of the Crown’s power, my mother’s power, power she desperately needs right now, and she’s been doing it twice a day for a month? Why would she risk herself like that?”

The guilt was suffocating. All this time we had been working to help Evalina, and I had been one of the factors draining her.

“Evander, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

His anger gave way to weariness as he sat down, running a hand through his hair.

“I believe you. I only wish you had told me. She has no right to keep things like this from me.”

“I’m sure she just doesn’t want you to worry,” I said.

“Yes, because that strategy has worked out so well.” He laughed bitterly. “I have to speak with her . . .” he trailed off, focusing his gaze back on me, eyes lingering on my face thoughtfully.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

I joined him in the sitting area, sinking into one of the chairs opposite the settee.

“My mother,” I admitted quietly.

“Your mother?”

“She didn’t know I was working here. Our relationship is . . . complicated. One of the contestants who went home this week lived in our neighborhood and my mother found out I’d been lying about where I’d been employed. She . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Evander waited patiently while I gathered myself.

“Doesn’t want me to come back,” I finished, sealing my emotions away behind a door and shutting it with as much force as I could muster. “So I suppose in one way your problem is solved. I won’t be leaving the wards anymore.” A horrible thought struck me. “That is, if I’m allowed to stay?”

Evander sighed. “Of course you can stay. I can’t fault you for my mother’s deception, and as angry as I am, I trust that she had a reason to do what she did.”

“Thank you.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

“I can’t do much about your mother’s actions since she’s not within my employment. If I were sovereign, I could have her tried. I’ll speak to my mother about it.”

“No!” I cut in. “Please don’t. It’s not that big an issue.” I didn’t think I could bear the shame or the scrutiny if this escalated.

“You would defend the woman who struck you?” I didn’t deserve his grace or the tender way he was looking at me.

“As I said, our relationship is complicated. And I shouldn’t have lied to her.”

“There is nothing complicated about abuse, Quinn. Lies or not, a woman who would harm her own daughter is not someone who deserves your protection. Or your love.”

At a loss for words again, I just stared at my shoes.

“I need to go speak to my mother,” Evander said, getting up. “We’ll find you accommodations in the morning. The bedroom and washroom are through there.” He pointed to the door in the back of the antechamber.

Absolutely not.

“Evander, I can’t take your bed,” I protested. “For about a dozen reasons.”

He rolled his eyes at me, the ghost of a half-smile on his face. “Don’t make this difficult, Quinn. I understand that may be a challenge for you, but this makes the most sense as a temporary solution. Unless you have something else in mind?”

I knew Mellie would let me stay with her, but she only had a single bed. And besides, I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell her that I had let Evander in on our secret quite yet. There had already been enough contentious conversation for one night. I shook my head.

“Do you have anyone else offering you their bed tonight?” he challenged. A spark of something flashed in his eyes quickly at the thought, but it was gone before I could decipher it.

“No,” I whispered.

“Good,” he said, turning toward the entrance. “I’m not allowing you to sleep in the kitchen. I’ll sleep in my mother’s quarters; she has a spare room.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and didn’t look away until I’d opened the door he pointed out. When I turned to thank him, I found he was already gone.

Cautiously, I took a step into his room. Though I’d been in these chambers almost a dozen times already, I’d never set foot in the bedroom. The first things I noticed were the stacks of books that covered almost every surface.

I knew Evander liked to read, but this room was a veritable library. Organization didn’t seem to be his strong suit, and I saw several of his vests and coats draped over the chair and the end of the bed. The cobalt blue of his coverlet matched the heavy curtains, currently tied shut with thick golden cords. I recognized a familiar scent, like old books and new leather boots.

Being here felt like trespassing, but the adrenaline had faded out of my system, and the night’s events were beginning to catch up with me. I was so tired.

Climbing into the blankets felt far too intimate, so I lay down on top of the coverlet and almost immediately fell into a dreamless sleep.