The Inherited Series Book 1: The Inherited

by Lily Burlington

  head off,” She pursed her lips at my hat, reaching up to adjust it. Apparently, my hat was

  having self-esteem issues and was refusing to stay in place.

  Hector and Rose came next and I had to hold back a little laughter. Hector was

  wearing white pants with a dark blue stripe up the sides. His jacket was dark blue as well

  and had a bunch of complicated white detailing, silver buttons and shoulder pads with a

  white fringe. There were a series of colorful medals gleaming on his chest. He had white

  gloves and shoes on and something tucked beneath his arm. Rose joined Hugo, and

  Hector made his way over to Phillipa and I.

  “Don’t you two look all fancy,” he said smiling.

  “Not too bad yourself Hector,” I told him.

  ‘You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” he said as he pulled out the thing from under his arm. It turned out to be a very big, blur had with an extravagant white plume hanging down the front, into his eyes.

  I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips as he shook his head, “Very dashing.”

  Leopold joined us a few moments later in the same clothes as Hector, except the sword that was belted to his waist. What did he need that for, crowd control? I thought M. Arsnault said there wasn’t a death penalty.

  Leopold caught me staring and offered up an explanation, “Part of the costume.”

  "Is it real?" I wondered.

  "Very," he said pulling it out of the sheath slightly so that I could see the blade.

  "Do you know how to use it?"

  "I was trained how to fight with over twenty different kinds of blades."

  I whistled, "Wouldn't want to get in your way in a kitchen."

  He laughed, but then his face turned serious, "You look very nice, Cat. Blue looks lovely with your complexion."

  I blushed, looking down at his pearly shoes, "Thanks."

  Everyone suddenly snapped to attention as the King and Queen appeared at the top of the stairs. Felip was dressed similar to his sons, but completely in blue, more medals and no funny hat. Beatrice was in a beautiful, creamy pantsuit. We all bowed accordingly.

  Finally all here, we exited the castle. Leopold offered me his arm as we made our way down the white steps. The beasts were at the bottom, being held in place by various guards and stable hands. A group of the Royal Guard was standing beside their own horses waiting to mount and guide us through the streets.

  Felip and Beatrice took their seats in a beautiful horse drawn carriage towards the rear. Leopold directed me to where our horses waited, side by side, in front of the carriage. Leopold lifted me into my saddle and then mounted his own black steed, Jacqueline.

  Phillipa and Hector saddled up in front of us, then there was the piping of a horn, the click of heels and the guards were up and we were off.

  I cringed, waiting for something to happen or something terrible to go wrong, but it never did. It turns out that Olivier likes to show off and look all pretty so he was on his best behavior. I think it helped that he had to follow the horses in front of us so I didn't even need to give him direction.

  I could hear cheering as we approached the castle gates. There were people lining the streets, waving flags, screaming and holding up signs. Some of them were crying or belting out what I presumed to be the Solisian National Anthem. This was ridiculous; it was like we were famous or something. Not knowing what else to do, I plastered a smile across my face and waved, trying to keep my butt firmly in place on Olivier.

  We rode around through the Old Town until about noon. At some point, people had started throwing flowers at our procession and Leopold had caught one, handing it to me. I smiled in thanks and fastened it to my lapel.

  We made it back to the castle and, without hesitation, I jumped out of the saddle and threw my arms around Leopold’s neck, "I did it!"

  Leopold was stiff for a moment, but he wrapped his arms around me. "Je suis très fière de toi," he murmured.

  Someone cleared their throat and I was brought back to reality. I blushed furiously, stepping away from Leopold. I had just made a very bad faux pas. Most of the guard and the royal family were staring at us, but luckily, they didn't seem angry, minus Hector, who was confused, and Rose, who was plain pissed off; the rest of them looked like they had swallowed a canary.

  Chapter Five

  I soon learned that traveling anywhere with the DuMont family was an event that required a lot of preparation. Everything was planned down to the last detail. Today, for example, just as Leopold had promised, we were going to a Canette Game. The five royals, plus me, made our way down the front steps towards three black hearse cars. Felip and Beatrice went in the first, Hector and Phillipa in the second and Leopold and I in the third. It was a little excessive if you ask me.

  When I finally managed to maneuver my fedora through the car door, M. Lefevre gave the okay and M. Arsnault took off.

  "Couldn't we just get a big van or a limo or something?" I asked Leopold. "I mean, this is a little flashy."

  Leopold smiled crookedly, "Everything in our life is flashy on the outside. This is for our protection though. It would be bad if all of us traveled in the same car. What happens if there was an accident? The entire family would be gone in an instant."

  He had a point, I guess. I settled into my seat, straightening out the wrinkles in my white sundress. Why anyone had decided to put me in white was beyond me. There was no way the poor dress was going to make it through the day unscathed.

  I looked over at Leopold jealously. He was in chinos and a black polo shirt, sunglasses in place. At least he got flat shoes and pants. I had a severe lack of pants since I arrived here and was beginning to miss them.

  "Nervous?" I asked, noticing his bouncing leg.

  Leopold shook his head, "Plus exciter. I have lots of energie before games."

  "How do you play anyway? You said it was like football and polo?"

  Leopold nodded, "Kind of. Each team has five players: one goalie, two defense, and two front men to score goals. We ride horses and throw a ball, much like a football, to score in the other team’s net."

  "Wouldn't that be kind of easy? I mean, can't someone just hand you the ball and make a mad dash down the field to score?"

  "There are regulations that make it difficult. You will see."

  That was about it for conversation for the duration of our car ride. Luckily, it wasn't too long before we were pulling up a cherry tree lined driveway. A stone clubhouse appeared at the end of the lane. I could just see the edge of what I hoped was the Canette field poking out the left side of the building.

  M. Arsnault pulled the car to a stop. Leopold helped me out and we went to join the others who had gathered in the entrance of the clubhouse.

  "Bonne chance," Phillipa told Leopold briskly. Leopold nodded at his family, adjusting the strap of the duffle bag on his shoulder. It was strange that they all behaved so formally out in public.

  Leopold headed down a flight of stairs, presumably to a change room. I followed the rest of the family outside to the field.

  The stands were already filled with people, all dressed to the nines like us. They stood when we entered and I was suddenly grateful for the extensive brim of the fedora that hid my face. Apparently knowing where they were going, the DuMont came to a stop at a reserved box at the dead center of the field, front row. We all filed in and sat down, followed by the rest of the spectators in the bleachers around us. I ended up beside Phillipa, thankfully.

  "It should be an exciting game today," she stated excitedly. "Antoine DuBlais is on the other team."

  "Antoine DuBlais?" I asked not recognizing the name.

  "Yes. He is the son of one of the Governors of Parliament. He and Leopold have been at each other's throats for years. He is a lying, cheating, dick but it definitely spices up the game a little. I will point him out when I see him."

  The players began entering the field then, running t
heir horses to warm them up. To my complete and utter shock though, none of the horses had saddles or reins, all of the players were mounted bareback.

  "They play without saddles?" I demanded Phillipa.

  She nodded. "How do you expect them to catch the ball if they are trying to direct their horse with reins?"

  "I don't see why they can't at least have a saddle. How do the riders even stay on?"

  "That's part of what makes it so hard to play. The horses have all been trained to respond to certain changes in the rider's position. If they squeeze with their feet, for example, the horse will go, with their knees it will stop. Other than that, it's all in the leaning or verbal messages."

  "Wow," was the only semi-intelligent thing I could think of in response. These guys didn't only go halfway did they?

  "There," Phillipa said pointing to one of the riders, "That's Antoine." I followed her finger across the field to a man in a green shirt, with broad shoulders and dark hair. I couldn't see much of him from here, but he held himself very tall.

  I was distracted, suddenly, when I realized that Leopold was riding towards our box. He had changed from the clothes he had been wearing earlier into the same tight pants, boots, and gray polo shirt as the rest of his team. He came to a stop in front of us, jumping off his very big, gray horse. At least they were co-ordinated.

  The crowd seemed to have all eyes directed on us as Leopold came towards me. I rose to my feet to greet him, dipping slightly. Leopold reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out the necklace with the shiny bits of metal that he always wore, bringing it over his head. He placed the chain in my palm, closing my fingers around it.

  "Will you hold on to this for me? I can't wear it while I play," he told me, holding my gaze. I merely nodded, hypnotized by his eyes. Leopold placed a chaste kiss across my knuckles, making a murmur rustle through our audience. Then he jumped back onto the gray horse, heading for centerfield where the other riders were waiting.

  "Good luck!" I called after him, finding my voice. He threw a crooked smile over his shoulder at me.

  I sat down again as they did whatever it was they were doing at centerfield. Carefully, I opened my fingers, curious about what he had given me. It was a simple metal ball chain with two flat rectangular pieces of silver and one disk that was gold on one side and green on the other. The two rectangles had the same information scrawled across them:

  L. Dauphin

  069237201

  O NEG

  The disk was blank.

  "Those are his dog tags," explained Phillipa, "For the army."

  "But they are missing a bunch of info, aren't they? And what does the disk mean? And who is Dauphin?"

  "Because of his position, it was decided that we should put as little information on the tag as possible. That way, if anything were to happen, it would put everyone at less risk. Dauphin is the last name that Leopold uses when he has to go somewhere or do something undetected. It's easiest if you think of it like this: DuMont is the title of the Royal House, like the Royal House of Windsor for the English, our true last name is DuMont, and Leopold’s cover name is Dauphin. Just like how you are from the House of Sinclair but your last name is Morgan. The disk is a quick way to identify him as the prince to anyone in his regiment. It symbolizes his eyes. He must trust you; he never takes those things off. Look, they are starting."

  I fastened the tags around my neck hastily, hoping that I wouldn't misplace them. That would be my luck. Then I looked out to the field. Leopold and Antoine were in the middle, on their horses, facing each other. There was a referee standing between the two of them holding what looked very much like a football. He blew a whistle and threw the ball into the air.

  Leopold managed to catch the ball and threw it to one of his teammates who was waiting nearby. The blond boy caught it and began charging towards the other end, ready to throw the ball into his opponent’s net. Suddenly though, one of the guys in the green shirts (Lancet, according to the back) went running full speed towards him, ramming their horses together. Blondie lost his balance, fumbling the ball. The green team's goalie ran out into the field and tossed the ball to one of his teammates.

  They were bloody bonkers! The players just kept lobbing the ball down the field to each other and running their horses towards the opposing team. Every once in a while, if it wasn't blocked by a goalie, someone would get a ball in the net.

  Players would be thrown off the horses occasionally, but they would just get up and jump back on. I kept waiting for someone to get trampled on or something.

  "Amazing, isn't it?" asked Phillipa beside me.

  "Oh, it's something alright," I replied, as my nails dug into my palms. Why would they be concerned about Leopold getting blown up when he could much easier break his neck playing a recreational sport?

  After the initial shock had worn off, I actually found myself getting into the game. It was really quite interesting the way that the players communicated with their horses and Leopold was really quite good. He had scored five of the seven goals for his team. Unfortunately, the two teams seemed evenly matched and, by the last quarter, they were tied.

  Lancet had the ball and managed to score another point. There were only two minutes left on the clock and Leopold had the ball. He was racing towards the other end when Antoine came up beside him. I cringed, waiting for their horses to clash, but it never came. Leopold pulled back his arm, ready to release the ball but somehow Antoine managed to pull his feet up onto his horse and throw himself at Leopold. The two of them collided and, in a tangle of arms and legs, they crashed to the ground. The buzzer sounded, ending the game. The ball bounced across the field rolling to a stop.

  Nobody was paying attention to the ball, though, because Antoine DuBlais and the oh so infamous Prince Leopold were rolling in the middle of the field, wrestling.

  The players circled around the two of them, cheering on their teammate. Everyone in the stands rose to their feet, cranking their necks to get a better look at their idiotic Prince in all his he-man glory. The referees seemed to hang back, not sure whether they could intervene and separate Leopold and Antoine. I rolled my eyes. Apparently Felip had seen enough because he signaled to M. Arsnault and M. Lefevre and they hopped into the field, jogging towards the scuffle. The pair of bodyguards quickly pulled Leopold away, blocking him from getting at Antoine.

  "Told you it was going to be interesting," sighed Phillipa.

  The players all went to line up and shake hands but Leopold walked right past, stomping towards the stables with the guards at his heels. Just when I thought he was getting better, the arrogant jerk had returned.

  "Come on," said Phillipa pulling me to my feet, "We have to leave before the reporters get news of this." I scrambled to my feet and followed the family back into the clubhouse.

  Leopold was pacing furiously in the entrance, the guards on either side of him. M. Lefevre had his duffel bag in hand. Leopold hadn't changed, he was still in his now dirt covered and grass stained uniform. His hand was at his nose which was oozing blood.

  Felip walked right past his son without giving him any recognition. Leopold fell into step beside me, his jaw tense, lips pursed and anger flowing off him in almost palpable waves. He was mumbling furiously under his breath.

  "What are you so angry about?" I demanded, as we waited for our cars to pull up. I mean, he was acting ridiculous.

  Leopold froze, looking at me as if I had grown a second head. The rest of his family turned to look at me, surprised, I guess, that I was confronting him.

  "Didn't you see what happened, Cat? We lost," he growled, eyes flashing.

  I shrugged, "So? You didn't have to go and pummel the poor guy. That's just bad sportsmanship."

  "We lost because he cheated!" Leopold roared. "If Antoine hadn't jumped off of his horse, we could have won."

  "That may be true, but you are being a sore loser. You are setting a terrible example by fighting with him and it was rude just to stomp off the fi
eld like some five year old having a tantrum instead of shaking hands. Your freaking bodyguards had to intervene! That's a little ridiculous if you ask me, not to mention embarrassing." I crossed my arms over my chest. I could be just as stubborn as he was. Leopold just gaped at me.

  The cars pulled up then and I went to stand in front of Phillipa and Hector's.

  "What are you doing?" demanded Leopold, grabbing hold of my wrist.

  "Going with them," I said freeing myself from his grasp. "I won't talk to you until you have calmed down." I ducked into the car. Leopold stood outside for a moment and then stomped off towards his own.

  I sighed shakily when our car advanced, happy to be away from his toxic behavior.

  "That was amazing!" cried Phillipa, bouncing in her seat beside me.

  "Yeah, Catherine, I think you're my new hero," agreed Hector. "It's nice to see Leopold having a taste of his own medicine for once. I can't believe he didn't take your head off."

  I smiled weakly, "Me too. It was close there for a moment."

  "Nah," said Phillipa, waving her hand, "Leopold won't dismember you, Catherine."

  Well, I'm glad someone had confidence in that fact. Then again, maybe she was his accomplice. Phillipa and Hector discussed my heroics the rest of the trip. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window hoping that the storm will have blown over before we got home.

  It wasn't long before we were in front of the white steps again. I jumped out of the car quickly and took my place behind Beatrice. We made it into the foyer before Leopold caught up.

  "So, you are angry with me because I got into a fight with Antoine?" he cried.

  I froze in the middle of the marble entrance. He wasn't really getting this was he? "No, I am angry with you because you responded to his threats and let your temper make a fool of you. You have so much potential and should be an example of good behavior but you keep letting your anger get the better of you and just lash out at everything. You have to man up and clean up; otherwise, you are exactly the man that the public thinks you are. Even your family is scared of you and doubts your potential and, to be honest, you aren't doing much to help change that. Prove everyone that they are wrong and be the better man. I know you are capable of doing it, I've seen it; let everyone else see it too."