Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales Book 3)
Page 27
“I met Liam today,” I say. “He sent me a message. I thought it was a Union meeting, so I went.” I tell him it was actually a personal meeting, and Liam was trying to convince me to join their side. I didn’t tell him Liam’s confession of his feelings, yet Edward is astute enough to detect something wrong in my way of speaking.
“There’s more to it, Kat. If he requested to meet you alone, is that the only thing he asked of you?”
“No,” I admit. “He asked me to be his woman.”
Fury crosses his features for a moment, but then he calms down. “Knowing what has happened to you last week, he has a point. You will be more likely to be in danger if you are in the public sphere as princess.”
“Hey,” I say sharply. “Even if I never met you, I would never accept Liam. Do you think I’d fall for a guy who wasn’t even friendly to me in the beginning? And even if I end up with him, it’s unlikely that I would be safe. I don’t know what they’re planning, but I’m sure it’s just as risky joining the Union. But I agree with his views of the people—they shouldn't be the only ones shouldering the burden of this country, while the aristocracy sit back and do nothing and enjoy privileges. We need more equality in Athelia.”
“I cannot fault your opinion,” Edward says. “But it has been this way for centuries, and the people never questioned it. Were it not for the failure with the crops, I do not think the people would have been so angry.”
“We’ve got to come up with something,” I say emphatically. “I refused Liam’s offer, so we need to watch out what they might do in the future.” On an impulse, I throw my arms around him. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? I don’t want to live without you.”
“What about your work with the children?”
He has a point. “Okay, then. I’ll find someone else. Someone who isn’t so bossy, demanding and possessive, and doesn’t have a poker face on most of the time.”
This makes a difference. His eyes narrow and he tightens his arms around me a possessive hold. “Don’t you dare.”
I smile and snuggle in his embrace, but the uncertainty and fear remain hanging in the air. We don’t know what might happen the future. This is the biggest crisis I've experienced since I came to Athelia. The social issues we have been trying to resolve are nothing compared to this widespread unrest that has taken root in the people.
43
Kat
The headlines every day get worse. There are numerous articles written about the lords' outrageous reaction to tax budget. They complain that they would be plunged into poverty if they were taxed. The Union must be gloating—these lords have showed that they are truly the indolent, ignorant race that know nothing about real life.
“Lord Westin said ‘if this bill is passed, the loss of a thousand pounds shall leave me no choice but to discharge the servants in my employment,’” I read aloud. “‘Think about it: a thousand people will be forced into employment. Dire consequences indeed.’”
“The fool,” Edward mutters. “This article exposed him as a miserly employer who cannot pay more than one pound for a servant.”
A loaf of bread costs a pound. The least that a family can get by is two loaves a day. Honestly speaking, even if Lord Westin didn’t make the complaint, I bet many of his servants would have left his employment voluntarily.
“The Earl of Glastonbury says ‘I shall have to close down my tennis courts.’”
“I heard he has several, in fact,” Edward rubs his hand over his forehead. “This would afford him to play any time of the day without the glare of the sun.”
“Oh my God.” I could imagine Liam reading these papers to the people. I then notice another quote by Lillie’s husband, the Marquess of Sunderland. “‘I will have to sell my horses and instead have donkeys pull my carriage in the future. Imagine how ridiculous that would look.’”
Despite the childishness of his complaint, I have to stifle a smile. Sunderland’s carriages are magnificent vehicles of gold-and-ivory trappings and gleaming exteriors—the Athelian equivalent of a Lexus or Porsche. It definitely would be hilarious if he had donkeys pulling the carriage—if they can move the carriage at all. I lay down the paper and let out a sigh. No wonder Edward was so concerned when the tax bill was rejected. He anticipated that the aristocrats would make such ridiculous complaints, and further antagonize the people.
Edward gathers the papers in his arms. “I must be going to Parliament. I shall show them these articles and attempt to knock sense into those MPs. Yes, don’t look surprised, Kat…half of them don’t bother reading the papers, unless it concerns speculations of the annual horse race.”
He kisses me gently and leaves. Amelie brings me some tea and biscuits, but I can't eat. I’m worried about what the Anti-Aristocratic Union might do. To tell the truth, I wouldn’t mind if they abolish the peers. Or even the monarchy. Even though Edward assured me there are hard-working peers, the people will only see those who have made ridiculous complaints. My worry is that blood will be shed, like the uprising in Moryn. Isn’t there a peaceful way to resolve this problem?
I get up and pace in the room, racking my brains for a solution. And then, an idea hits me.
I rush down the stairs and call Bertram. “Saddle the horses,” I call. “I need to go to the palace.”
* * *
The carriage rattles on the street, and I brace myself. Will my idea succeed? Will the king accept me? And what about the nobles when they hear about it? Will they accept my ideas? No matter. I will never know until I try.
My hands clench around the seat. Okay, Kat. One step at a time. First, see the king and worry about the rest.
After a while, the carriage is slowing down. I pull the curtains apart and look outside.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of people are marching in the streets, carrying banners and flags, chanting slogans like “Down with the lords!” “Justice to the people!”
A man, whom I recognize as a member of the Union, is holding a flaming torch. What is he going to do?
“So you need to sell your horses, Your Grace?” He shouts. “We’ll make the decision easier for you!”
He sets fire to a handsome white-gold carriage in front of a mansion. In a few seconds, the carriage is swallowed by red and orange flames. Plumes of smoke rise in the air as the crowd roars in approval.
Bertram throws the door open. “You’d best get off, Princess Kat,” he says, an urgent look in his eyes. “Looks like a frenzy over there, and there’s no telling what they might do if they see our carriage. Got to get you to safety.”
I hop off, cursing when my heels hit the ground. For the purpose of requesting an audience with the king, I had asked Amelie dress me as a noblewoman. My gown is a deep forest green, trimmed with gold lace, and my hair done in emerald green ribbons. A gold pendant the shape of a griffin rests on my throat. Everything of my attire screams of wealth.
Bertram guides me to a pub in a narrow alley, away from the main street. He hustles me inside, has a few words with the owner, and leads me to a table in a distant corner. “Lie low for a while, Princess. We’ll wait till the protests die down, and I’ll take you home.”
I know the safest option is to do what he says. At first I make myself calm down with a mug of hot milk that the owner of the pub brings me. But as the deafening roar of the mob continues on and on, I know I can’t turn back. I left the house because I had a mission, and I’m not giving up unless I make myself heard.
“Bertram.” I stand up. “I have to go to the palace.”
He looks shocked. “But it’s too dangerous outside! His Highness would never forgive me if…”
“I’m not taking the carriage,” I say, pulling the ribbons out of my hair. “You heard the people shouting outside. I need to see the king because I’m trying to stop this. If you don’t help me, that’s fine, because I’m going anyway.”
I call the pub owner and lift the pendant from my neck. “How much would you say this pendant is worth?”
“Good.” I’ve shopped enough in Athelia that I know how much fifty pounds is worth for. “I need a coarse, dirty cloak that can conceal my dress. I’ll also need a donkey cart, or a wagon, that can get me to the palace. If you can get these for me, this pendant is yours.”
Bertram looks shocked—what I’m asking for is WAY lower than fifty pounds. But I’m too concerned about the current situation to worry about costs. Actually, I'm thankful that I’m in a position not to be worried about money.
The pub owner promptly fetches what I ask for. I grab the cloak and fasten the clasp, letting it cover me completely, ignoring the stink of beer and sweat from it. I don’t want anyone recognizing I’m part of the privileged. The cart isn’t half as comfortable as the carriage, as there aren’t any cushions to smooth over the bumps in the road, and I know my butt must be bruised, but it’s better than going on foot.
When we arrive at the palace, I take off the cloak, revealing the expensive gown I’m wearing, and stride up to the sentinels guarding the heavy doors.
“My name is Katherine Wilson,” I say, holding my head high. “I am here to ask for an attendance with the king.”
Bertram does some indecipherable gestures with his hands, and soon I find myself in the courtyard. Despite the urgent situation we’re in now, I can’t help feeling nostalgic as I gaze at the magnificent palace where I used to reside. Two years ago, when I first saw the palace, my only thought was that I want a camera to keep this in my memory when I return home. Today, the palace has become my home.
I waste no time getting to the king’s receiving chamber. I’ve no problem finding my way—I’ve lived here for a year anyway. The servants stationed outside the chamber tell me that the king is currently in an important meeting with his ministers. “That’s all right,” I say. In fact, I expected that I couldn’t see him right away. “I’ll just wait here until he finishes.”
It seems like an eternity until the door opens. My stomach growls after an hour or so, but I ignore it. In my head, I rehearse what I should say to the king. When the meeting is over, the ministers file out of the room, most of them looking weary and frustrated. Some of them notice me and frown, a few nod at me politely, but none speak.
The servant emerges from the chamber. “The king will see you.”
I let out a sigh of relief. Smoothing my hair and straightening the wrinkles in my skirt, I step inside.
The king is lounging on his huge golden chair in the middle of the room, his forehead creased. He rests his head on one hand, his eyes closed, a weary expression on his face. I have a brief thought this will be Edward’s future, when he raises his head.
“It’s you.”
“Your Majesty.” I curtsy deeply. He waves me to a chair.
“I had expected that the next time we meet, I would be welcoming you back as my daughter-in-law.” He drums his fingers on the arm of his chair. “What spell have you cast on my son? Since he was a child, he has seldom asked for anything, but when it comes to you, he has turned into the most stubborn mule.”
I remember Professor Bartlett telling me how King Leon came to choose his bride. “Didn’t the others question your choice when you chose Isolde as your queen?”
He raises an eyebrow. “I suppose Edward has told you. However, in Isolde’s case, at least she was the daughter of a nobleman.”
“Why must nobles wed other nobles?” I counter. “Look at what’s happening in the streets, Your Majesty. The people are furious because of the exclusive privileges that are afforded to a minority, who have done nothing to merit those privileges except to be born in the right family.”
His eyebrows go even higher. “I have decades of experience being the king of the people. Do not lecture me how to run a country, Miss Wilson.”
“I’m sorry; it wasn’t my intention to criticize you.” I take a deep breath. “You once told me that public image matters more than anything. Today, the image of the peerage is in shreds. Tomorrow, it might be the royal family.”
I tell him about the burning of carriages, and he slams a fist on the table. “If they had cause to complain, they could have sought legal means to express their dissatisfaction. I will not tolerate inflicting violence and encouraging rebellious sentiments.”
“They know it won’t be any use asking you,” I say in a low voice. “You may be king, but your power is limited. You don’t even have the power to force the lords to pay taxes.” At his look of incredulity, I quickly continue, “Which is how it should be. Too much power easily leads to corruption. As was the case with Edward’s grandfather.”
There’s a spark of interest in his eyes. “I assume you did not request for a meeting simply to inform me about the carriage burning. What is your objective, Katherine Wilson?”
“I have an idea that could resolve this clash between the classes. I know you might not agree with me, but please, hear me out.”
“Speak.”
I fold my hands and brace myself for rejection. “Let the people vote.”
“Vote? Whatever do they need to vote for?”
“For a representative in Parliament. The people don’t need a rich, privileged peer to represent them in Parliament. They are angry because the MPs have rejected the tax bill, when many are starving. They are angry that so little of the population control most of the land. Let the people elect the members of the Parliament. There should be a representative from every region. That way, the MP will truly be one who looks out for the people’s interest.”
It is so quiet that I could have heard a butterfly flap its wings—if there’s a butterfly in the room. I decide to keep silent; let the idea sink in.
“Do you know how many heraldries have been granted to Athelian noblemen in our history?”
“Um…” I rack my brain—I’m sure I’ve learned about this, whether it may be when I was in Katriona Bradshaw’s body, or when Edward gave me princess lessons during my memory-loss period. “A hundred? Two hundred?”
“Two-hundred and sixty-one. Every member of the peerage, from the duke, marquess, earl, viscount, baron, as well as every member of the gentry, from the baronet to the knight, carry a heraldry or a similar sort of insignia that has been passed down hundreds of years ago. Abolishing the titles is no simple matter, Katherine. You are asking me to overthrow a tradition that has been in existence since our forefathers found this country.”
“I’m not asking you to destroy the titles,” I say desperately. “I’m asking you to give the people the power and right to make their own decisions.”
“And what if I give in? Will this send a message to the people that as long as they protest, they will get what they want? What if the people march in the streets and demand for my head?”
“Do you believe that the people have the leisure to congregate and protest whenever they want? It has to be something they can no longer tolerate, that they are forced to take to the streets. They could be arrested and punished. If they are protesting, it must be something so unjust that they could no longer be silent about it.” A tear trickles down my cheek. I don’t want to see either side get hurt. “Your Majesty, I urge you to consider my proposal. Otherwise, this crisis could become become worse.”
There’s a long pause. The servant pops in and informs the king that Duke Philip has arrived from Northport and wishes to have a chat with him. Outside, dusk is falling. I should be getting back if I don’t want to navigate the streets in dark.
“I will talk to the ministers about this…idea about voting,” the king says. “You may stay at the palace tonight. It is getting late, and since the people are burning carriages in the streets, I doubt it is safe for you to leave now. Henry has returned, and it makes sense for you and Edward to return to the palace.”
Hope springs in my mind. This invitation means he has accepted me, no matter what my status is. A small step in my favor could mean a bigger step for the people in the future.
44
Kat
I wake up, and for a moment I wonder if I’m dreaming. I’m in my bedroom—the one in the suite I share with Edward in the palace. There are roses in the big porcelain vase on my dresser, and more roses arranged in intricately carved boxes in the window. I recognize the roses from Edward’s garden. When I enter the study, there’s the windows seat, my books neatly stacked on the desk. It’s almost like I’ve never left.
“Princess!” Mabel is standing in the doorway, a large laundry basket in her arms. “You’re back!”
I run over and give her a big hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“When Amelie left, I’ve been counting the days when you could return,” she sniffs. “You can’t imagine how glad I am that you’ve come back at last. It just ain’t the same without you.”
I wish I could talk more with her, but this isn’t the time for casual conversation. The burning of carriages yesterday is still fresh on my mind. “Do you have a copy of the paper today?”
Mabel brings three copies from the sitting room. “I knew you’d want to read them, Princess. Call me if you need anything!”
I smile and thank her, feeling it’s just like old times. I have missed my life at palace. And then when I read the headlines, my heart sinks.
Nationwide Outrage: Protestors of Unfair Discrimination Arrested.
Oh no. As I read through the articles, I get the gist. After the people burned several carriages, the Metropolitan Police arrived and quashed the demonstration. There is a list of names of prominent figures in the protest. I locate Liam’s name among those who are imprisoned. Dang.
I toss the papers aside and call for Mabel.
“Have you seen the prince? Do you know where he is?”
“His Highness? He sees the king every day. Do you need me carry a message and let him know you’re here?”