Emma looked at her, “I’ll go back one more time once I’m home and see what I can find out. Maybe, at the very least, I can find out where they kept Fitz and reunite him with Anna-Maria.”
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Astrid gave her a quick, happy hug and then turned serious. “Emma, I have to ask you—and forgive me if this sounds too personal—but why do this? Especially since it’s so upsetting for you.”
“As I said, someone deserves to be happy. You know in the end, Astrid, I will survive this heartbreak. Good or bad, Peter will marry that horrible woman. But Anna-Maria and the children were abandoned and desperate, and at the very least I would like to spare them that pain.
“Also, there is something greater here, a bigger reason this happened, that Peter and I met in this lifetime, and that I was brought here. However nasty her intentions, Alexandra may have done us all a favor by luring me to the palace.”
chapter 2
Later that day, Peter found himself at Astrid’s cottage. She was working in her yard—which she didn’t need to do, since Peter had offered time and again to have the gardeners tend to it. But she refused, insisting gardening relaxed her.
“Hello, Peter.” Astrid smiled up from a flowerbed.
Peter dug his hands in his pockets. “How was she?”
Astrid sat back, “Emmeline was better by the time she left. Why didn’t you say good-bye?”
He shrugged, “There was no point. She needs to move on, and I need to let her. My future is here, and hers is not.”
Astrid pushed herself up and wiped her hands on her gardening apron. “Peter,” she said, cocking her head, “it’s time I shared a little secret with you. Come inside.” She beckoned him inside the cottage before pulling off her gardening gloves and apron, dropping them on a bench.
When they were both inside, she went to her bookshelf and pulled down the same book she shared with Emma the day before.
“Why don’t you sit here next to me,” she patted the couch and opened the book to the same page she showed Emma and handed it to him. “Peter, you know how we’ve always marveled at how much you look like your great-great-grandfather, King Fitzgerald, yes?”
Peter nodded. “Yes. It’s somewhat unnerving, actually.”
“You may find this even more unnerving. Take a close look at Anna-Maria.” Astrid pointed to the woman on the page.
“I can’t believe this,” he said, his breath shallow. “How can this be? She looks exactly like Emma.”
Astrid nodded. “They could be twins.”
Peter shook his head, “Why did I not notice this before?”
Astrid shrugged. “We see what we want to see. You weren’t looking for it, and you probably hadn’t seen a picture of Anna-Maria in ages, either.”
Peter couldn’t stop staring at it. “But what does this mean? Is she related to Anna-Maria in some way?”
“No, Peter, it’s not that at all. Listen, you were always such a level-headed boy. You never believed in anything you couldn’t see, until you saw the vision of Anna-Maria weeping in her room.”
Peter glanced away. He’d forgotten he told her about that night.
“What I’m about to say might make you think I’m crazy, but please let me finish before you rush to judgment, okay?”
He looked up at her, and after a slight hesitation, said, “You know I trust you, Astrid. Of course.”
“Emma is gifted, beyond anything you or I can even imagine. She has the gift of being able to see past lives and, in some cases, relive them. When she was here years ago, when you were both little, she insisted on calling you Fitz. I remember it, because at the time I thought it was odd, because it came out of nowhere.”
“You’re telling me Emma can see past lives, and she thinks I was Fitzgerald. Now you’re showing me this picture.”
Peter shot up from the couch and raked a hand through his hair, “I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”
Astrid licked her lips, “Because, Peter, I think you should know that last night, when Emma woke up screaming, she was back in time, reliving the night Fitz was kidnapped.”
Peter spun and faced her. “That can’t be. Astrid, stop this, it’s crazy.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Is it? Because she has told me details of their life only someone who lived it could possibly know, things only your family knows because it’s your heritage—family secrets and such that have never been publicized.”
Peter felt like he couldn’t breathe. He thought back to the first time he saw Emma in her grandfather’s bookstore and was inexplicably drawn to her in a way that felt both overwhelming and familiar.
He walked over to the window and looked out, scrolling rapidly through every second of his time with Emma, every moment that now held a level of detail and meaning it hadn’t before.
“There are a lot of people who believe in past lives, dear boy,” Astrid said. “We return, sometimes many times, and often reconnect with the same people.”
“Astrid, I am open-minded enough to know there are people, and even religions, that strongly believe in past lives, and I would still swear to you as sure as I’m standing here that I heard a woman weeping in Fitz and Anna-Maria’s bedroom when I was little, but I don’t understand what all of this has to do with me and Emma.”
“Because she’s Anna-Maria, Peter. She is the love of not only your past life, but of this lifetime, too, and I think in your heart you already know that.”
Something very subtle clicked into place within Peter while he listened to Astrid. Something true. There was a reality behind what she was saying that was hard to deny. How he felt when he was around Emma, the fact that he’d loved her from almost the moment they met.
Peter shook his head. “But now it’s all for naught. She’s gone, and I’m getting married.”
Astrid stood up and walked over to him, “Peter, right after Christophe left to marry the woman he loves, I implored you to do the right thing by the monarchy, but now I see it was a mistake. You and Emma need to be together.”
“Astrid, I appreciate the romantic fantasy, but I have a duty to my father, who is very ill, and to my country. These duties, more than anything, need to be addressed. I would love nothing more than to spend my life with Emma. You have no idea what the thought of never seeing her again does to me. But I can’t forsake my family and my country to do so.
“Doing so would forever taint whatever Emmeline and I might build together, and our lives would be spent in the shadows of my selfishness. I won’t do it—not to her, and not to us, and certainly not to a country that needs someone to lead them.”
And with that, Peter gave her a peck on the cheek and left.
As Astrid watched him walk through her yard and back to the palace, she had a feeling that if Emma couldn’t fix whatever happened in the past, Peter would be facing challenges far more difficult than he could possibly imagine.
chapter 3
The sounds of violence woke the rest of the house, and the King’s butler, Liam, was at the bottom of the stairs when Anna-Maria ran down, barefoot and dragging her robe around her, to try and catch up with the men who were kidnapping her husband.
“Your Majesty, we should take the children and leave, we must go away,” the governess said from the top of the stairs. But Anna-Maria ignored her.
“Liam,” Anna-Maria said, “where are the guards?!” she was almost screaming now.
“All dead, Mum, or near dying, I’m sorry to say. Stabbed, the lot of them.”
She stepped through the open front door, her bare feet cold on the cobblestones as she looked frantically for Fitz among bodies of the men he had hired to protect them.
She stepped in something wet.
Blood.
The ones who were still alive were all bleeding.
Someone groaned, and she ran to his side i
mmediately. “Let’s get him inside.” She twisted to look at Liam, who was already by her side, and, over his shoulder, she saw Cook arrive in the doorway. He was a tall, strapping man who learned to cook while serving in Her Majesty’s Army. She called him over.
“Cook, please, can you help?” and he, too, was immediately at her side. Together he and Liam carried the dying man inside.
“We must check them all,” Cook said, and then spoke to another servant hovering behind him, looking pale and afraid, clutching her nightclothes.
“Get sheets, as many as you can, and hot water, Elizabeth,” he used her name, which shook her into the present. “Now!” he commanded, with such force even Anna-Maria flinched slightly.
The hours dragged on, and nine of the ten men guarding the royal family died from their injuries. Cook and Elizabeth were tending to the one still clinging to life.
Anna-Maria stayed with the children in their room, hugging them while they sobbed. Liam sent a message to the King’s army, but the unspoken truth of it was they were likely too late. Wherever the kidnappers were taking Fitz, they were probably long gone, having escaped with Fitz several hours before the army could muster its troops.
The gendarmerie was summoned, and Anna-Maria gave as accurate and detailed a description as she could of the kidnappers, especially the man whose mask fell off. The gendarmerie captain promised he and the entire army and nation would fight to get back their King, but Anna-Maria knew in her heart they all believed he was dead.
But she knew better.
She knew he was alive.
Now all she had to do was find him.
Someone was shaking her shoulder and saying a name.
“Emmeline, wake up! Emmeline!” It was Peyton, and she seemed far off, so far it was as though she was in a different lifetime.
She was.
The thought startled Emma out of her trance, leaving Anna-Maria and the children alone to cope with their terrible loss in the very distant past.
She felt hollowed out.
“You’re pale,” Peyton said, standing up, “I’m getting you a mug of tea.”
Emma didn’t speak. She couldn’t. The tragic end to the fairy tale of Fitz and Anna-Maria left her bereft and sick at heart.
After Peyton put the kettle on, she returned and sat next to her cousin on the couch.
“What happened?” she asked softly, taking Emma’s hand.
Emma had yet to speak. Her mind reeled, and she could still feel the warm, fresh blood on her feet.
“Emma, please say something.”
Emma looked at her cousin.
“Anna-Maria,” Emma began. “Oh, Peyton, I can’t bear it. She and the children. Fitz.” Her voice hitched, and although she tried not to break down, she could feel tears streaking her face already.
“I know,” Peyton said softly, though she didn’t, not really. They both knew it. “Look, why don’t you lie down, and I’ll bring your tea and…”
“I have to go back again. I need to finish this.”
“No,” Peyton said firmly. “You need a break first. It’s too painful.”
“I can handle it,” Emma declared, but she heard the lie in her voice.
“Yes, maybe, but not right away. You need to recuperate for a few days at least.”
The kettle whistled and Peyton was back with Emma’s tea in less than a minute. “Tell me what happened,” she said as she sat next to Emma again, setting the steaming cup on a coaster.
After a long pause, Emma said, “They beat Fitz bloody and took him captive after killing every one of the men he hired to guard the palace and the grounds.” She picked up her cup and blew into it, taking a cautious sip.
“And then?”
Emma stared into her cup as if it held all the answers. “One of the guards lived. Well, he survived the attack, but I’m not sure he survived his wounds. Then I was trying to comfort and calm the children, and I felt sure everyone assumed Fitz was already dead.” She shook her head. “But I know he wasn’t. They didn’t kill him.”
Peyton frowned. “How can you be so sure? I mean, it’s what all the historical accounts say.”
“So you have done some research,” Emma’s voice was tight. “I thought we agreed…”
“Look, Cuz, I think it’s important to know at least a few facts going into an experience like this, or at least the facts we can find. Especially if it could be dangerous. I think you need to know what you’re getting into.”
Emma sighed, realizing she was being silly. Of course it made sense to research as much of the story as they could. Maybe the research would provide a clue to where they took Fitz.
“There was nothing,” Peyton said, reading her mind. Emma was used to it by now, knew Peyton didn’t do it intentionally, and wasn’t being nosy. It was simply her gift, like traveling into the past was Emma’s.
Though right now her past life abilities didn’t feel like a gift at all.
“So,” Emma began thoughtfully, beginning to shake off of the aftereffects of the harrowing things she’d experienced, “everyone assumed he was dead, and Anna-Maria took the children to France.” She looked at Peyton, “Astrid told me. The rest,” Emma sighed, “is excruciating. Anna-Maria died of a broken heart, and she and Fitz never saw each other again.”
Peyton took Emma’s hand while she continued musing. “I don’t know what to do with this. I mean, I feel like I’ve been given this window to help them, but I have no idea where to begin.”
“Then let’s take a break so you can catch your breath and recover a bit,” Peyton said. “Just a few days, okay?”
Reluctantly, Emma agreed. She was too tired to fight her cousin right now. But she promised herself she would, very soon, figure out why she was convinced Fitz was still alive and where they were keeping him.
chapter 4
Even days later, Peter still couldn’t shake off what Astrid told him. Emmeline was Anna-Maria, and he’d been Fitzgerald. They were married, and they’d shared one of the greatest love stories the country had ever known.
Which had ended tragically.
And now they had been torn apart again, albeit under less dramatic circumstances.
His mind reeled. It was impossible, yet it wasn’t. His heart knew it was true, but his mind stubbornly continued trying to convince him otherwise. He’d been raised Catholic, and he’d never been exposed to anything about past lives or anything remotely similar. At least not among traditional Catholics.
Peter paced his office, strides jerky, fidgeting with nervous tension. He needed to see Emmeline, and he needed to see her right away. He wanted—no, needed—to discuss these revelations with her, and so much more.
But he knew it was important to be careful how he attempted to get in touch with her. Now, with the royal visit to the United States coming up in a few days, he and Alexandra were very much in the spotlight, and taking a moment to pop by and see Emma would not be the smartest idea. While rumors of his relationship with her had died down, a simple meeting was highly likely to create another uproar of titillating speculation.
He picked up the phone and made a call to the only person he knew who could help him.
. . .
After he finished making plans, he strode down the long corridor to where Alexandra and her father were working, or whatever Alexandra was doing these days. He tapped on the door. Without waiting for her father to grant him permission to enter, he flung the door open.
“Oh, darling,” Alexandra threw him a bright, white smile. “I’m so excited! I’m having a painting of myself commissioned for the Grand Hall.”
Of course she was. Peter tried to hide his disgust, and, instead of commenting, he said, “I’m going to New York in the morning to wrap up business.”
Alexandra looked as though she’d been slapped across the face. “But, darling, we’re
traveling there in a few days. It’s important we arrive together.”
Sebastian Dalca opened his mouth to protest as well, but Peter held up his hand. “I have business to tend to. It is necessary and important that I do this, and it is not up for discussion.”
He glanced over at her father.
“I agree with my daughter,” Sebastian huffed. “It’s unseemly for a loving, engaged couple to arrive separately.”
Peter felt bitter bile rise to his throat at the word “loving.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we are anything but loving, Sebastian. Furthermore, I have granted Alexandra this trip, despite the fact that it’s an unnecessary waste of time and money. It’s designed specifically and solely to boost Alexandra’s ego.”
“Son, I will not have you speak about my daughter in such a manner.”
Peter lowered a steely look at him. “Sebastian, I would encourage you to remember that I am, still, the crown Prince of Belgium, and you shall address me as Your Highness. I am not, nor ever will I be, your son. I am marrying your daughter solely out of political and financial necessity, in case you have forgotten.”
Alexandra looked as though she wanted to fly into a rage. Her arms were rigid at her sides, ending in clenched fists, and her eyes darkened until they were almost black.
For a moment Peter saw something in her that nearly made him take a step back, out of reach of the rage coming off of her in waves.
She seemed almost…demonic.
Without saying a word, Peter left the office, trying to shake his uneasy feelings about the newly revealed, almost sinister aspects of Alexandra’s character.
chapter 5
Peter tossed and turned in his bed that night, eager to be on his way to New York but also still disturbed by what he saw in Alexandra earlier. Though he’d already suspected she didn’t have much in the way of kindness coursing through her veins, what he’d seen today was entirely unexpected.
A Royal Affair Series: Book 1, 2, and 3: A paranormal, time travel, royal romance Page 18
