by May Sage
Rupert smiled.
“I didn’t take you for faint of heart, Rory.”
So, apparently, the Rory thing was staying. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Had she ever had a nickname? None that she could recall.
“It has eight legs,” she simply stated. No other explanation was necessary. Spiders were the devil.
“Ah. Fear not, we won’t remain long.”
Rupert touched something under the empty desk, and a secret compartment opened up. He pulled out an antediluvian laptop and its charger.
He then got up and walked to her. The king had remained at a reasonable distance until then, but he stepped right in her personal space, as though he belonged there. Her heart stopped when his hand brushed on her shoulder, close to her neck. Aurora blushed.
Then he stepped back, and she knew what he’d just done.
“Don’t tell me I had a spider on me.”
She was going to be sick. And embarrassed. But mostly sick.
“I won’t tell you,” he replied, amused. “We should have what we need. Let us go.”
Go where, she could have asked, but she knew.
The king couldn’t exactly get out of the palace and walk to check into an inn tonight. She bit her lip.
“I have the Rose apartments in the south wing.”
Those had been his daughter’s. “Of course you do. There’s a path leading to them. Follow me.”
The king had slept on her sofa, although she’d offered the bed. He’d dismissed it, attesting that he’d known worse hardship.
He was so different from what she’d imagined. So much more. Simpler, kinder, yet more intimidating and royal. She’d known princes and kings before; none were like him.
At long last, after every Council member was seated, a door opened. The door to their right, the door leading right out of the king’s chambers. Silence reigned through the room, as none of them had ever seen that door move.
Then, the king came. She didn’t know how he’d found clothing in decent shape, devoid of rat crap or spider webs, but he’d managed. He wore a blue velvet coat, embroidered with silver flowers at the hem, and leather breeches. The royal sword had been polished, no doubt by his own hands. And upon his head, there was no crown.
“You’ll excuse my lack of decorum,” said he, breaking the complete, shocked silence. “The crown is wretchedly heavy. I just put it down.”
He walked slowly and with purpose, sweeping the entire room with one glance before sitting on his empty throne.
Rupert then made an announcement, brushing his thumb over the control panel to his right. It slid open to let him pull out a blue notebook covered in webs. It was something no one could have done without the right fingerprints. Aurora bit her lip to avoid smiling. Oh, the man was smart.
“You see, I was filming a short statement. It’s already gone live on every channel available,” he added as the men around him grew more agitated. “I’m certain you’ll have time to watch a rerun in your retirement.”
Her father finally dared speak, after clearing his throat.
“Retirement?”
The king’s gaze snapped to him, sizing him up. The regent could be proud that he didn’t start crying and begging for mercy.
“Your government has taken care of this kingdom well in my absence,” said he. “That much is incontestable. It has also, however, taken greater care yet to ensure that I would not be awakened. You’re all dismissed.”
No one spoke or moved. “I understand that you’ve had no cause to study propriety for quite some time, but that means you can go,” the king added.
Aurora got up with the rest of them.
“Not you,” he said, and all eyes fell on her, following the king’s. “Your loyalty ensures that you’ll forever have a place here, Lady Rory.”
She flushed.
Her father suddenly turned to her on his way out, watching her with such ire, such loathing, it practically emanated out of his pores.
She forced her eyes to remain on the king.
“Come closer. Sit at my side, so we may not have to shout from across the room. I know nothing of this generation. Tell me whom I could go to for counsel.”
Chapter 9
Aurora was watching the king’s broadcasts and ignoring her phone.
He used the simple camera she provided him with and filmed himself at his desk. The royal emblem was marked at the top right of the screen, as his codes had authorized the distribution of the video.
“Friends of the realm, foes, and subjects, I come before you after a long interlude—too long, no doubt.” He sighed, and his blue eyes snapped right to the camera. “I, Rupert the Third, King of Ferren, have been awakened a mere few hours ago. It has since come to my attention that my return may have been purposefully prevented by the men and women appointed to rule my kingdom. My first move is now to dismiss a Council I cannot trust. I know nothing of you, but you do know this world I’ve inherited. I shall trust your wisdom. Elections will be in place within a month, to the day. Candidates may put their name forward, addressing Lady Rory—Aurora Stephenson—and her office. Think of the men and women you wish to represent your interests and let them form my new democratic Council.”
Aurora’s jaw dropped, and she just laughed.
“Something amusing?”
She lifted her gaze, which fell on the king.
He’d spent the entire day in the room where he’d been frozen for so long, watching his daughter thoughtfully. And now he was here. In her bedroom.
Self-consciously pulling her bedsheet up to her neck to hide her nightie, she asked, “How did you get in?”
He shrugged and said, with some amusement, “I’m king, if you recall.”
He moved to the sofa where he’d slept the previous night. “Our staff has their work cut out with my apartment. It will take them some days. I’ll have to abuse your hospitality for a while.”
He didn’t have to at all; it was a castle, not a two-bedroom cottage. There were plenty of spare rooms always readily available for visitors of importance. As though he’d been reading her mind, Rupert added, “If I were to take up any vacant room, I’d no doubt be strangled in my sleep.”
“And you’d be safer with me?”
Because whoever felt a little murderous toward him certainly wished to slaughter her too.
“Much. I’ve activated old security measures on your apartments.”
She oscillated between feeling quite put out that he’d see to anything concerning her without feeling the need to ask, or at least inform her, and being thankful that he’d think of her safety. Given the fact that he was king, and therefore needn’t answer to anyone, the latter sentiment won.
“What measures?”
“For now, your doors will only open to you or me. Whatever maid you may have will need to work while you’re in. The system dates back to when Aurora was a toddler, to ensure no one unregistered had access to her. Now, unless my company is distressful to you, I believe you’ll have no further protest.”
He went to her utility cupboard himself and retrieved the blankets she’d let him borrow the previous night.
“You can’t sincerely wish for another night on this torture instrument.”
She’d fallen asleep on her sofa while reading a time or two, so she knew what she talked of.
“Unless that was an invitation to share your bed, that’s quite a pointless remark.”
She blushed. Oh, for heaven’s sake! She was a goddamn adult.
“Well, I don’t see why not. My bed could fit in half a sports team, surely there’s room enough for two of us without things getting awkward.”
Rupert stopped moving, before turning to her and laughing.
“It has just come to my attention that you seem to be quite mistaken about a great many things, Rory. Let me explain.”
He dropped the sheets on the sofa and advanced, heading right to her. She could hardly breathe when he sat on her bed and bent forward, speaking
so very close to her.
“Firstly, you’re mistaken about me. You look at me and see your king. The representative of the Crown you serve. The Crown you trust.” He was almost whispering now. “I’m no king, Rory. Not in this room. This is just you and me now. You and a man.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “Secondly, you’re mistaken about your bed. For surely, a whole team may fit. And nonetheless, it doesn’t change the fact that, were you to invite me into it again, things shall certainly get”—he quoted her words—“awkward.”
Oh.
And just like that, she was wet and longing for some awkwardness.
Eventually, she remembered how to breathe again. By then, he’d returned to the sofa.
“Good night, Rory.”
“Good night, Rupert,” said she. And she’d certainly remember to differentiate His Highness and Rupert from now on.
He was going to wed Rory when things settled down. The woman who’d believed in him, the woman who’d remained loyal. The woman who loved her king. She’d be his reward for sacrificing his happiness in the name of the Crown the first time around.
She liked the man he was, he’d seen it in her gaze. He might very well have shared her bed that night, if he’d so wished, but he needed to keep his head clear, focused. Aurora was his first priority. Aurora, and the sensitive upcoming weeks. The subjects of Ferren didn’t know him. Now was the perfect time for a rebellion, and the councilmen he’d just dismissed knew it.
The saying said, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” but wedding Marina had quite disillusioned him on that notion. He loved his enemies as far away as possible. Let them plot and play their parts. He was king, and the game was still in play until he was taken.
His first priority had been ensuring his daughter’s safety; no doubt, anyone wishing to get through to him would think of harming her in order to do so. Well, now they couldn’t. He’d hidden her where no one would think to look for her. His second thought had been for Rory. He’d told her of one of the safety measures he’d taken on her behalf, without breathing a word of the other two. Every robot still active from back in his day, whose mission was to take care of the king, had now been reprogrammed to mind her. He’d also set up interviews on the morrow. Back in the day, his private secretary would have seen to such things, but he was alone with no one to trust save for Rory. He and she would run through the applications together.
Firstly, he needed personal guards, for both of them. Secondly, there was the matter of their staff, down to the very last cook and server, for it was all too easy to slip poison in their bowls. He’d barely eaten a thing and only taken what wasn’t served to him in two days.
Rupert ran through all this in the morning. “I hope you might take the day off to assist me.”
Rory shrugged. “Waking you was my job. I’m quite free for now, although I’ll certainly need to start writing reports.”
He smiled at her innocence.
Asking her to be by his side was telling. He might as well have gotten on one knee and proposed. Yet Rory didn’t seem to realize yet that she was to be queen.
Chapter 10
Oh, this was bad. He was giving her the respect, the duties, and the deference a king reserved for his queen. Finding enemies everywhere and betrayal at every corner, Rupert had attached himself to the one woman he believed he could trust, the woman who’d saved him. She understood that. But she damn well wouldn’t marry a man because he was grateful or afraid. She had more pride than that. After two unsuccessful relationships also based on nothing, certainly no affection, she had more sense than that.
Never had she known anything to be quite as fucking tempting though. He wasn’t any king; he was Rupert, her Rupert. She knew everything there was to be known from books about him. She knew every one of his features, each line on his face, having studied them quite closely since she’d started interning with the previous head of science. And now, she knew his voice, the way he moved and the way he smiled—at her specifically.
No doubt he believed she desired them to be wed, that she’d plotted to facilitate his return in order to seize something for herself. The very thought made her sick.
She helped him because no one else could. No one else had his trust.
“Anna has worked for me since I left university, and she wasn’t hired by my family. Indeed, she quite hates most nobles, grumbling when she needs to come in contact with any of them. I’m confident she’s trustworthy.”
“But would a woman who ‘hates most nobles’ serve a king?” Rupert asked.
“It very much depends on whether you say ‘hello,’ ‘please,’ and the occasional ‘thank you’ to your staff when they go about executing your every desire. If you think you could manage that, she’ll be a fine head housekeeper. Besides, staff talk and hear things that will never come to our attention. She’ll be able to keep on the employees that we want serving you and dismiss the rest.”
Rupert asked to see Anna. She came with a frown on her pretty face.
She then addressed the king. “I hope you’re not here about my nibbling at the miss’s dinner. Say what they will, until there’s no more talk of her being in danger, I shall certainly nibble anything that’s to be served up to you, Lady Aurora.”
“Do call her Rory if you please—in front of me at least. Aurora, in my mind, is an eight-year-old bouncy thing, and I can’t quite reconcile the two.”
“Rory, hey? What do you make of that name, miss?”
Aurora had to smile. “I like it quite well.”
She did. No one had ever given her a nickname at all—nicknames were for those you liked, those who mattered in your life.
“So long as you let no man force you into anything you don’t like,” Anna advised. “So, then what am I here for?”
Rupert sent her an amused glance.
“You’re here, Anna, because I need a new head housekeeper, and Rory recommended you.”
The brunette blanched. “That won’t do at all. There’re at least two hundred peeps higher than me. Servants who’ve been here for generations.”
“I see. And how many of them ‘nibble’ at things that they suspect might be poisoned, may I ask?”
Anna stilled. “I didn’t have no home, nor prospect, when Lady Ro took me in.”
“Ro” it was now? Aurora bit back a smile.
“She went just like, ‘Well, how are you at making tea?’ when she saw me begging in the street. I told her I’d never made none, and she said she’d show me how. Said I’d have fair work with her if I wanted it. So, I’m not leaving her, so long as I breathe.”
“I still live here for now, Anna.”
“For now. I don’t mind taking on a job, but I want leave to go with you when you move.”
Rupert nodded slowly. “That’s a deal then. You’ll stay on as long as your lady lives within these walls. Please take the rest of the week to run through the names of every maid and cook under you and dismiss whomever you doubt.”
“Aye, sir. If I may, you’d do well to keep Bacchus as head butler.”
“Bacchus?” Aurora snorted. The name of the head butler was Henry, if she recalled it correctly.
“Well, doesn’t he just like his wine? But he loves this kingdom, and mark my words, each time he passed the room where you was all frozen, he’d bow his head. Never met a grayer fellow, nor a duller one, but he does his job just right.”
Bacchus stayed, many left, with recommendations and severance packages.
After two days of work, spent head down, absorbing reports, the king’s apartment was reopened. Rory stilled when she entered his office. Gone were the spiders and rats. The new blue curtains had been pulled, and the windows were cleaned so that the room was bathed in morning light. But she barely noticed any of that, her head snapping to the new element in the office. Right in front of the king’s desk, another desk—more refined, sculpted with silver rather than gold, but nonetheless imposing—had been installed.
This wasn’t just a matter of pulling a convenient desk. Monarchs didn’t do what was convenient, not when it issued a statement.
This office was the place where the fate of the realm was decided. And he’d given her a place there.
“Fuck.”
No such words crossed her lips usually, but sometimes, for the entire compendium of words she knew, none fit quite so nicely.
“I hope you like it. I had it brought from storage. It used to be my mother’s.”
She closed her eyes, willing it to go away.
“You mean to marry me.” For it had to be said.
“I do.”
Dammit. She’d suspected as much, but having it said like that in the open was still a punch in the gut. Rupert stood next to his desk, leaning on it casually.
“I was engaged,” said she. “Twice. To men who also found it convenient. It didn’t work. I’m not doing this again.”
Her throat hurt, her head hurt, her fingers shook, as though her body was against her saying such things.
Rupert just smiled.
“Convenient?” he repeated. “Indeed, with all affairs of the kingdom to learn within a few days, a popular election to set up, foreign relationships to build, and our councilmen and ministers wishing us ill, you believe that finding you is convenient?”
She frowned.
“I said nothing of my intentions. You asked, and I’m no liar. Let us return to our office for now, if you don’t mind. Someday soon, when this mess is beyond us, however, I’ll endeavor to convince you to stay by my side. For now, you’ll put your derriere on this chair, read this ungodly amount of reports, and let me know what you make of our finances. Won’t you, Rory?”
Chapter 11
She was endeavoring to drive him to madness, and not too far from managing it.
Day five after his awakening was the day they received a list of those who wished to join his government. In the impossibly short deadline he’d given them to make their case—just a month—they’d have to convince him, and the people, that they were fit for what they presumed to do. Rupert noted that nobles often wrote that their families had been in such offices since the beginning of time, while commoners cited their personal accomplishments. The commoners would win, no doubt.
