Royal Replicas 2: Royal Captives

by Michael Pierce

  I tried them on and they were about a size too big but would be much more comfortable than Kale’s old shoes.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “For everything. I should have trusted you more from the beginning.” I thought back to the night with Kale outside my window, trying to explain to me that we’d been ready to run away together even though I had no recollection of him.

  “And look, we finally made it,” he said with a chuckle. “You and Mina are here, just like we’d planned.”

  “I hope I can come back here when this is all over.”

  “Of course, you can,” Kale said. “We can get our own trailer. Mina can live with us—though she may not want to leave Ariel. Mina may end up taking over my room permanently.”

  “But I can still visit her all the time. That doesn’t sound like such a bad plan.” I smiled, taking a few steps closer to him until we were merely inches apart.

  “Then let’s rescue the princess.” Kale took my hands in his, looking deep into my eyes. He took the last small step to close the gap between us.

  He brought one hand to my cheek, grazing my skin with his thumb, and I closed my eyes. I knew he was about to kiss me and this time I didn’t mind. I knew his intentions toward me were true—unwavering.

  But before Kale had the chance to initiate the kiss, the door opened and Frank barged into the house. “I suppose I can’t convince you to choose—oh, Victoria. Kale. I thought you’d be out with the girls.”

  “We were just leaving to find them,” Kale said.

  Then behind Frank walked in Duke Mackenzie.

  13

  Byron

  After failing to find the Queen, I headed back to the Orange Room to check on the girls. Dr. Crane and Dr. Alden were at the bedsides of Piper and Constance. My blood boiled at the sight of finding them there.

  “What did you do?” I seethed.

  Both doctors looked up from their bedridden patients. Bethany, who was pacing on the far side of the room, looked over as well. Her face lit up at the sight of me and she ran over and crushed me in a hug.

  “I can’t look,” she cried.

  “Prince Byron, why don’t you take Bethany outside while we finish up,” Dr. Crane said.

  “It would be best,” Dr. Alden added, her soft voice trying to sound as empathetic as possible.

  “Perhaps it would be best if one of you told me what’s been done to those poor girls before I get really angry,” I said letting Bethany go and stepping farther into the room.

  “Only what the Queen commanded,” Dr. Alden said. She was on the closest side of the bed and protectively stood between her patient and me.

  “Go on,” I said, quickly approaching the now nervous doctor.

  Bethany remained close behind me.

  Dr. Crane came around from the far side of the bed to join his colleague and threw his hands out in front of him to signal for me to stop. “The Queen had us alter their appearances.”

  “Though we didn’t perform the alteration surgeries,” Dr. Alden said.

  “Correct; we only oversaw the alterations,” Dr. Crane added.

  I stopped before the doctors. Dr. Alden was trembling, but Dr. Crane was confident in holding his ground. “To what extent were these alterations?”

  Dr. Alden glanced at her colleague, who answered without hesitation.

  “Full facial reconstruction,” Dr. Crane said.

  I shook my head and sighed. “And you were about to remove the bandages?”

  “What are they going to look like?” Bethany asked.

  “It would probably be best if—” Dr. Alden started to say before I cut her off.

  “Just do it!” I snapped. I had no more patience for these doctors. And once the bandages were off, I’d probably want to kill them. I had a bad feeling about what we were about to see.

  The doctors went back to their respective patients and began to carefully unwrap the bandages. I waited for either of the girls to stir, but neither did.

  “Which one is Piper?” I asked while the doctors were continuing to work.

  “She is,” Dr. Crane said, meaning the patient he was addressing.

  After a minute, I was beginning to get glimpses of skin, which seemed perfectly healthy. There was gauze under the bandages on the crowns of their heads. When the gauze was removed, there was completely smooth and pale skin beneath. Neither girl had a single strand of hair.

  There was more gauze around their noses and over their eyes and mouths. The doctors gently peeled the patches of gauze away, until there was nothing left but flawless, unrecognizable skin. There were no blemishes, birth marks, moles, or freckles. Although there were no markings on the skin of either girl, the structures of their faces were noticeably different, with only slight hints of who they were before. If I hadn’t just spent a solid month with these girls, I probably wouldn’t have seen a single resemblance.

  The room was as silent as a tomb as the doctors finished up.

  There was a basin half-filled with water between the unconscious girls. The doctors took wet facecloths, wrung them out in the basin, and wiped down the newly exposed faces of Piper and Constance.

  The girls didn’t look any more or less beautiful besides their bald heads, just different. I could only imagine what would go through their minds when they saw themselves for the first time.

  When Dr. Alden finished with the washcloth, she pushed up Constance’s billowy dress sleeves to reveal more bandages wrapping both arms. I knew what they hid and anticipated new flawless skin beneath these bandages as well—all her razor scars gone.

  Piper had no bandages on her arms, but Dr. Alden pulled up the hem of her long skirt to reveal a bandage around her right ankle. She’d had a tattoo of a purple lily on that ankle, and I knew it was now gone.

  All identifying marks of who these girls had once been, were erased.

  “This could have been an option in the beginning for all of the girls…” Bethany said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “None of them had to die.”

  Dr. Crane looked up from his patient. “Believe me when I tell you, we didn’t want any one of you to die.” He then gathered all the removed bandages and carried them to the adjoining washroom.

  I looked over at Bethany and saw tears in her eyes. She didn’t bother wiping them away, but let them simply roll down her cheeks. Then she crumpled to the floor and hugged her knees as her sobs overtook her.

  “It’s not fair. It’s not fair.” Bethany dropped her head to her knees.

  I wanted to console her, but I felt paralyzed and overwhelmed with everything that was going on. I wanted to bolt from the room, but couldn’t do that either.

  Instead, when Dr. Crane emerged from the washroom, he kneeled beside Bethany and hugged her. “I know it’s not, my dear. But you are strong and you will have the opportunity to fight this injustice.”

  “I will?” She lifted her head to look him in the eyes.

  “Of course. You are the new princess. You will one day be Queen of Westeria. You will have the power to right the wrongs Queen Dorothea has caused.”

  “She has a lot to answer for,” I said.

  Dr. Crane looked up at me. “Indeed, she does, Prince Byron. A great many transgressions.”

  “Would you care to enlighten us with any of these alleged transgressions?”

  Dr. Crane simply smiled and shook his head. “I’m in no position to speak against the Queen.”

  “I don’t feel well.”

  I looked over to the bed and saw Constance sitting up, her legs over the edge. She wavered like tall grass in a breeze and looked like she was about to throw up.

  Dr. Alden was at her side and helped her to steady. “You’ll be okay. You’re just coming out of anesthesia. It can make you nauseous and disoriented.”

  “Yes; I’d like to use the bathroom,” Constance said.

  Her voice sounded the same, which was even more disconcerting. She finall
y noticed me as Dr. Alden helped her to her feet. Dr. Alden carefully walked with Constance toward the washroom.

  The rest of us looked over at Piper, still sound asleep on the far side of the bed.

  “I’d better go with them,” Dr. Crane said, kissing Bethany on the top of the head, and moving after Constance and Dr. Alden.

  Before Dr. Crane could make it to the washroom, Constance screamed from inside.

  14

  Victoria

  I couldn’t believe I was in his presence again.

  “It seems we can’t stay away from each other,” Duke Mackenzie said with his unsettling predatory grin.

  “What’s he doing here?” Kale demanded, beating me to the question.

  “I’m here to help you again,” Duke Mackenzie said. “Though this time, it’s not at the request of the Queen—but your father.”

  I was intimidated by Frank before, but now seeing the Duke at his side, I didn’t even know what to think of him. He was planning to infiltrate the palace and save Princess Amelia. But maybe save was not the right word. Maybe kidnap was more appropriate. And he did say he wasn’t doing all this for me, but for himself. Now it seemed he was allied with Duke Mackenzie as well. Who was Kale’s father?

  “Father, you do know he’s involved with the Queen, right?” Kale said.

  “Why do you think he’s involved with the Queen?” Frank countered. “Douglas, have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

  “If you’re offering any ale, I’ll take one,” the Duke said, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table.

  “Coming right up,” Frank said and headed for the refrigerator. “Kale, bring me the plans of the palace.”

  Kale’s expression looked defiant, but he simply said, “Yes, sir.”

  I didn’t want him to leave me alone with the Duke and his father, but he immediately disappeared into his parents’ bedroom. I remained standing in the open area between the kitchen and the living room, unsure of what to do, or what to say, or if I should even move. I couldn’t take my eyes off Duke Mackenzie, convinced if I kept him in view, he couldn’t hurt me.

  “How are the two children you saved?” the Duke asked, meeting my unwavering gaze.

  “Safe,” I said, feeling déjà vu from hearing the single word escape my lips.

  “I knew they would be with you.” He smiled, and it almost seemed genuine. “You wouldn’t let anything—anyone hurt them.”

  I felt I was being baited into saying something I shouldn’t, even though I couldn’t think of what that might be, so I kept my mouth shut.

  Frank joined the Duke at the kitchen table, and Kale returned only moments later with a gigantic roll of paper. Kale placed the set of papers in the middle of the table and proceeded to unroll it. The papers were worn and covered with pencil markings, detailed notes not specifically shown in the drawings covering the pages.

  The first page seemed to be a map of the palace grounds. On the upper left-hand corner, there was a note with an arrow, identifying an underground passage. I’d had a feeling it was the one Kale had taken me to. But then I saw similar notes on the other side of the page. There was also a dotted line leading all the way to the palace. The palace grounds seemed to have numerous underground passages.

  Frank rose from his chair and stood over the table-sized drawings. He flipped to the next page, labeled as Sub-level Three.

  “Sub-level Three?” I asked. “Is that like another basement?”

  “Three levels below ground. Three levels above,” Frank said. “See the outer lines of the floor plan? They encompass the full floor footprint, and those outer lines are lighter because Sub-level 3 doesn’t extend that far.” Frank pointed to some darker lines in the center of the page. “These two rooms are all that reside on Sub-level Three. One is a vault and the other, the Queen’s nuclear bunker in case the worst happens. The two are not connected and can only be accessed individually from the floor above.

  “The bunker is fairly large and contains enough supplies to sustain ten to fifteen people for presumably two to three years. I believe it was built after the 2nd Western War. And since Westeria hasn’t seen a war in the better part of 60 years, I doubt Dorothea has ever had to use it.”

  “How did you get this?” I asked, transfixed by the drawings.

  “We are a family of ex-château staff members,” Frank said. “Kale’s mother. Even Kale has done his time, thanks to you. We’ve built a network of valuable people over the years. Douglas here included. The leader of our community has built a network amongst the tribes and communities of the Outlands. And I’ve contributed by expanding that network into the very heart of Westeria.”

  Frank flipped a few more pages to reach the page for the ground floor. Looking at some of the room names, I began picturing where they were in the palace and the times I’d been in them. I remembered the palace being grand, but the sheer number of rooms on this page made it seem even more impressive.

  “Kale said you found Princess Amelia through a secret library,” Frank said and pointed to a small room on the floor plan. “That would be here. Whereabouts in the room was the secret passageway to Sub-level One?”

  I examined the small room where Frank was pointing and had to picture the library in my mind to orientate myself correctly. From the drawing, there didn’t seem to be any passageways stemming off the room.

  “Here,” I said and pointed to where I believed the passageway had been.

  “There’s nothing there,” Kale said.

  “Correction. There was nothing there,” Frank said.

  “I’ve been in that room before,” Duke Mackenzie said. “But I didn’t explore it that meticulously.”

  “Who tipped you off to the passageway?” Frank asked.

  “No one,” I said. “I found it by accident, finding a copy of my favorite book.”

  “Pride & Prejudice,” Kale said.

  I glanced over at him and smiled. “Yes. It was being used as a lever and unlatched a secret doorway.”

  “There are a lot of them around,” Frank said, examining the room more closely. Then he flipped back a page, to Sub-level One. “So right here is where that library is on the floor above. There is dead space here and a hallway a few feet down, which leads to this room here.”

  I looked to where he was pointing and said, “That looks right. But the hallway didn’t connect these other rooms. It cut off right here.” I pointed to where I pictured the spiral staircase had been, and the hallway ending directly behind it.

  “Excellent,” Frank said and marked up where I was pointing. “So, this area has been re-worked. I wonder how many of these connections to other rooms still exist.

  “What you probably don’t know is how often the Queen has these sub-levels modified—access to passageways and the changing of rooms. There are lots of inconspicuous ways to travel within the palace and the Queen doesn’t want them to become common knowledge with palace turnover. Though it wasn’t just her. This had been going on for generations. It’s kind of like changing the locks, but on a much grander scale.”

  “You must have been in the Queen’s inner circle to know all this,” I said.

  “It’s been a collaborative effort,” Frank said. He flipped back to the first page—Sub-level Three. “A printed floor plan of Sub-level Three doesn’t exist anywhere. Any written reference to Sub-level Three doesn’t exist. Over the years, with the help of allies in the palace, I’ve had the space of Sub-level Three detailed and this drawn as accurately as possible. The registered palace plans in Capital City start at Sub-level One. The official palace plans for staff management start at Sub-level Two.”

  “You must know the palace better than anyone,” I said.

  “At one time,” Frank said. “Now I would say Douglas here has the most up-to-date experience.”

  All the faith I had to put into Duke Mackenzie made me queasy. He was loving the compliments.

  “Do you think she’s still in the palace?” Kale asked.

  “
Yes,” Frank said. “I think Dorothea still wants to keep her close and there are plenty more hiding places within the lower levels of the palace.”

  “So where do you think the Queen moved her to?” I asked.

  “I suspect she was taken to the bunker,” Duke Mackenzie said. “Taken completely off the grid.”

  “It’s possible,” Frank said. “But the bunker’s a chamber of last resort. I believe Dorothea hasn’t reached that option yet. I’d say it’s more likely she’s on Sub-level Two—a privileged sector and that much closer to the bunker if need be.”

  “So, what’s our next step?” Kale asked. “I’d think we’d have to move fast with this plan. The Queen is going to expect Victoria back soon, or she’s likely to do something rash. She’s already lost me, so all she has left are… who was left?”

  “Piper and Constance,” I said.

  “Yes; my Constance is a fighter,” Duke Mackenzie said, almost in reverie. When his attention came back to the current conversation, he added, “Let me do some digging, Frank. I’ll contact you tomorrow with what I find and we’ll go from there.”

  Frank left with Duke Mackenzie shortly after and Kale returned the palace plans to their rightful place in his parents’ room.

  “I can’t believe we’re putting so much faith in Duke Mackenzie,” I complained. “He’s no better than Master Ramsey.”

  “Stop calling him that,” Kale said. “You don’t live with him anymore. He’s not your master.”

  “I—you’re right,” I said. He had forced me to address him as such for so long, it felt strange calling him anything else—even with all my contempt for him. “Duke Ramsey.”

  “You shouldn’t even give him the honor of his official title.” Kale ran his hands over his short hair and sighed. “I had a feeling it was a mistake bringing my father into this—that he’d just take over. But I don’t want any of the remaining girls to die—or worse yet, you—just because I didn’t use all the resources at my disposal.”

  “And your father seems like a pretty big resource.”