Royal Pains

by CN Thornton

  Alexander liked his freedom, minuscule expectations and few responsibilities—that much became clearer the more time I spent around him. Though he seemed to be very attracted to Christine, the idea of officially settling down seemed to put a damper on his mood.

  "Next week, actually. The dress looks so beautiful, though not as beautiful as yours, Princess," Christine chimed in excitedly.

  Like Theodore, Alex also clenched his jaw when he was bothered or upset. And though his current expression could pass as contentment, I could see his jaw clenching.

  "After the wedding, I get my very first duty as a princess." She went on about how she was nervous about having a baby, but moreso about the pain that would accompany giving birth.

  The more Christine talked about it all, the quieter Alexander got, which was my goal from the start. A quiet Alexander meant a relaxed Theodore.

  "—and he or she is obviously going to be gorgeous. I mean, look at us," Christine continued.

  I looked at Theodore and smiled. He mouthed, Thank you. And then we turned our attention back to Christine, who continued to talk about marriage and babies.

  Thankfully, by the time dessert was finished and the liquors were brought out and served to everyone, the marriage and baby talk had ceased all together. I was relieved that Christine hadn't tried to bring me and Theodore into her conversation.

  I guess all the times I had talked her ear off about how nervous I was about it and how much I wasn't looking forward to it had paid off. That was one of the many things I admired about her. She didn't need shotgun-subtle hints to understand which subjects were off limits with me.

  As everyone began excusing themselves from the table to turn in for the night, the air around me began to thin. It felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen.

  Tomorrow the king and queen would be stepping down from the throne, and Theodore and I would be taking their place. Thinking about it made me feel sick and lightheaded, but I couldn't push it from my mind.

  As I walked with Theodore to our floor, I could feel his nervous jitters—the occasional twitch of his hand that was laced through mine, his nonrhythmic and unnaturally loud breaths. It did nothing but triple my nerves, which only made me feel sicker as everything around me seemed to tilt and sway before me.

  Before he said goodnight to me, he pulled me into his arms and took a deep breath. This seemed to calm him a little bit.

  "Goodnight," he said, kissing my hand.

  I slipped into my apartment and went straight for the bath, then climbed into bed feeling slightly calmed from the lavender scrub my ladies had bathed me with.

  But it wasn't enough to put my restless mind at ease. So many thoughts raced through my head, leaving me wide awake and feeling troubled. I even tried taking another bath, but it did nothing.

  The grandfather clock across my room read ten o'clock when my bedroom door opened. I half expected it to be one of my ladies coming to suggest a sleep tonic to help me rest, which I would have willingly accepted, but it wasn't. It was Theodore.

  He closed the door behind him, climbed into bed beside me and pulled me into his arms. "I couldn't sleep," was all he said as he buried his face in my hair.

  "Me either. I'm nervous about tomorrow."

  "Luckily, we don't have to memorize anything or give a speech, or we'd be twice as nervous. All you have to do is hold the queen's orb and scepter in your hands and I the king's while the bishop says a few things."

  I nodded my head in agreement, then laughed nervously. "I'd probably faint."

  "I'm sure you never realized it, but I'm afraid of public speaking. I had to give this oral report once when I was thirteen—stand in the courtroom and speak out loud. They had several junior officials come sit in to give it a formal feel, and I said two words and vomited everywhere. It was mortifying.

  "I just remember standing there, looking at the four men sitting in the front row, and suddenly they began to multiply," he confessed.

  I wrapped my arm snug across his chest and put my leg over his, pulling myself closer to him.

  "That happened to me in middle school," I said. "I soon realized my fear of public speaking was really a fear of disappointing others. I wasn't afraid of their presence, just the thought of messing up and disappointing them—a fear that came from from growing up with Eleanore as my mother."

  Theodore's arms tightened around me. "She is an awful woman."

  "You just now realized that?" My voice was sour.

  He shook his head. "When I realized you had no idea who I was when we officially met... that's when it was clear to me. She was supposed to tell you about me, make it clear that you would one day be my wife and groom you to take on the role as the future Queen of Linacre. She did make a feeble—but somewhat effective—attempt at grooming you for the throne, but she blindsided you with the engagement and marriage."

  "But you went with it?"

  "I did, for two reasons. One, I had obligations to uphold—and two, I loved you."

  I made a noise. "How could you have known you loved me?" I asked. "You didn't know me."

  "On a personal level like this, no I did not. I fell in love with the person I saw in the pictures and videos and letters your mother sent me."

  "The what?"

  "That was how she kept us updated. She'd send pictures every month, and sometimes videos and reports of what you had accomplished, what you were doing, how you were growing, etc."

  That explained why my mother had made me dress up in extravagant outfits and take pictures almost every month. It also explained the debutante workshop she'd forced me to be a part of—the one she'd founded that centered on stuff you'd see in beauty pageants.

  I guessed those were the videos he'd received.

  "The last video I saw of you, you sang this beautiful song for your talent."

  I easily remembered it. It was one of my favorite songs—"Summertime Sadness" by Lana Del Rey.

  "You have a beautiful voice, Emmaline. You will have to sing to me sometime," He said through a big yawn that nearly obliterated his words.

  And I yawned too, my mind finally winding down.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Once the coronation had been deemed officially over, the crowd fractured and people greeted us one by one.

  "I already know you will be amazing, Your Majesty!" Christine said to me as she joined my side.

  I smiled and inclined my head to her.

  The rest of the Sheppards congratulated us, and then the other royal families from the north, south, east and west did the same. When Edward joined Theodore, the two fell off to the side and began an animated conversation with King Reed Matheson and Alexander.

  This left me to deal with the crowd of people by myself, which I wasn't up to doing at this very moment. I wanted to sneak away, but people kept coming up to me and bowing or curtsying as they addressed me as their queen. It was overwhelming.

  "Your Majesty," said the girl I recognized as Princess Clove Matheson.

  Clove was beautiful like her mother, Queen Margeaux, with a soft, narrow face, light-brown hair and long, lean limbs. And she was sagacious like her father, King Reed. At her side stood her newly married husband, Mitchell Jepsen.

  It turned out that Clove and Mitchell would become the monarchs to the north, where my family used to be. When my father and brother had died, the First Duke and his wife had stepped up to lead the until another suitor could take his place.

  Clove and Mitchell were the suitors, since Mitchell was King Jepsen's second-born son and not in line for the throne.

  "I hear your coronation is coming up shortly," I said, making conversation.

  Clove smiled sweetly. "Are nerves a natural thing?" she stated in a low voice. "I mean, I've been raised for this since my birth, but I'm terrified."

  "I'm still terrified," I admitted.

  Clove gave a short laugh. "I would be too if more than half the country were against me." She fell silent suddenly and her eyes grew big as she looked a
t me. "I—Your Majesty, I swear I meant no ill towards you. I—"

  I held my hand up to her and she stopped talking. "No ill feelings," I reassured her. "Next time, though, it might be wise of you to filter your thoughts." I inclined my head and continued through the crowd.

  Ironically, it was Queen Margeaux and King Reed that found me next.

  "Lovely it is to see you again, Your Majesty." Margeaux greeted as she sank into a curtsy.

  "Without a doubt. I was just speaking with your daughter. She is quite a lovely lady and I have no doubt she will more than suffice when she settles in as Queen of the North."

  Margeaux beamed proudly. "She has been ready for quite some time, though I cannot fathom the idea of the nearing coronation."

  "I will be awaiting an invitation." I smiled and inclined my head, then continued on through the throng.

  My end goal was the door. If anyone questioned my leaving, I would state that I was going to use the bathroom or feign an upset stomach from something I had eaten earlier.

  Surprisingly, I managed to escape into the corridor outside the ballroom with no interruptions. Where to now?

  I found myself heading in the direction of the grand staircase to go back to my room. My new room. As I entered the Queen's Suite, I sucked in a breath. The walls were covered in a golden silk fabric that attracted the light bursting through windows that overlooked the best views of the garden. The door to the right took me to the sitting area, which branched off into an office area.

  The door to the left took me to the sleeping quarters. Attached to my room was a massive bathroom and dressing area—like my old apartment, only bigger—and the sleeping chamber for my ladies.

  I wandered back into the sitting area and pushed open the balcony doors. Before I could take a step, my breath caught in my throat and fear bubbled up inside of me.

  On the marble tile of my balcony, the words "You Are No Queen Of Mine!" were painted in large red letters. As I moved closer to inspect the words, bile reached my throat and I vomited at my feet. The red wasn't paint, but blood from several decapitated chickens.

  Footsteps grabbed my attention from behind me and I turned around expecting Theodore, but instead I saw a person in a black cloak. The cloaked individual charged at me and pushed, causing me to stumble backward. My body caught the railing of the balcony and I flipped over it. A piercing scream slipped through my lips as I managed to catch the bottom of the railing, leaving my body dangling two stories high.

  A whimper escaped me as I turned my head to look at the ground below me.

  "Help! Someone help me!" I screamed as loudly as I could.

  The chances of anyone hearing me were slim, and the chances of anyone happening upon me were even slimmer. No one knew I was here, and everyone was back at the ballroom.

  I opened my mouth again to call for help, but it was too late. My fingers lost their grip and the feeling of falling flooded my body as the ground rushed up to meet me. Then the wind was knocked out of me and everything went black.

  When I came to, the sky was no longer bright and blue but painted with oranges and pinks as the sun set.

  What happened? Why am I outside?

  Around me, I could hear screaming and the sound of several hurried footsteps.

  "She's dead!"

  "The queen is dead!"

  "Someone has attacked the queen."

  Then I remembered. I had been attacked.

  "EMMALINE!" I heard Theodore shout. I felt his hand on my face, and he let out a breath of relief when his eyes met mine. "What happened?" he exclaimed after calling for someone to get the physician.

  I bit back the pain that shot through my shoulder as he accidentally bumped it. "Pushed off—balcony," I spat through clenched teeth.

  "Someone pushed you off the balcony?" he repeated. His expression was murderous as I slowly nodded my head.

  "GUARDS!" he roared. Several men joined our side moments later, all wearing apprehensive expressions. "YOU FIND THE BASTARD THAT DID THIS AND BRING HIM TO ME! I WANT HIS HEAD ON A PIKE!" he ordered, and then dispersed them.

  The physician arrived and gave me a quick look over to check for any possible severe injuries. When they were ruled out, I was moved back to my room—after it had been thoroughly searched by the guards so my ladies could clean me.

  It turned out that whoever had pushed me over the balcony had also dumped chicken blood all over me while I was unconscious.

  By the time my ladies had finished bathing me, the bathwater was tinted a deep red. After they emptied the tub, they washed me again and rinsed me once more before drying me and putting me in a nightgown.

  Once I was deemed appropriate, the physician returned to check out my shoulder, which was giving me bad pain. He performed a few tests that consisted of me moving my arm in different ways, and then he explained that I had possibly broken my scapula.

  I bit down on a leather strap and as he positioned my shoulder to sit naturally, a muffled scream slipped through my clenched teeth and tears sprang to my eyes. Then he put my arm in a cotton sling and wrapped my shoulder to immobilize it. When he'd finished, he gave me a glass of whiskey to numb the pain and a sleep tonic for later.

  As I passed by the balcony doors, I came to a stop. Theodore was standing there rapidly tapping his foot. From my position, I could see he was clenching his jaw again.

  "I want whoever did this to be found!" he barked as he stared at the words written in blood at his feet. "These words alone are treason, which is punishable by death. An attack on my wife—" He fell silent as he turned to look at me.

  Now at my side, he carefully pulled me into his arms. For several long minutes, he just held me, his face buried in my still-damp hair. Then he spoke.

  "I promise you, Emmaline, I will find out who did this to you."

  As my eyes held the hateful words written in blood, I felt afraid. I was terrified that the person who had done this would return. Certainly, they had meant to kill me when they'd pushed me over the balcony.

  But there was something deep inside me that weighed more heavily than the fear, and that was anger. I wanted to find the person who did this to me. I wanted to make them pay.

  I wanted to watch their blood spill.

  You Are No Queen Of Mine! I would prove that person wrong when I sentenced him to his death.

  For I am Emmaline Fallmonte, crowned Queen of Linacre.