The Four Tales

by Rebecca Reddell

  They were taken through a long hallway off to the left before curving back to the right. Doors lined the wall to their right, and within a few minutes, they were ushered into an empty room. A dais was centered against the farthest wall, and other tables and chairs lined the room facing the dais. They were led straight to it.

  The guards took up position around the room as well as behind and at the ends of their table. The table held five chairs. Sybelle took the second from the left and indicated Wren should take the same from the opposite end.

  “We'll let Mr. Gabriel sit between us, so he can help respond and talk to both of us as the need arises.”

  Wren nodded and took off her pea coat. Setting it on the back of her chair, she scooted it out before taking a seat.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  Mr. Gabriel entered the room next, followed by a waiter. The host set menus and water glasses in front of them.

  “My name is Sean. This is Ryan. He will be assisting me with waiting on you this evening. Other waiters will be along shortly to care for your guests. If you have need of anything, we will be happy to assist you.” Sean bowed at the waist and backed up a step.

  Sean eyed the younger gentleman as he stepped forward and asked, “May I start you off with a wine or specialty drink? We have a beautiful Rose Pinot Grigio if you are interested in a raspberry taste? We also have a Regent 2013 or Gyin Gywn 2013. Both are beyond compare and are shipped to us from a winery in Wales.” Ryan named off a few more drinks, describing their special tastes, before pausing for breath.

  “I think I will stick with water today, thank you,” Sybelle said before opening her menu.

  “I'll just have water as well, diolch.”

  “Same for me, please.” Mr. Gabriel came to the dais and took his seat between her and Sybelle. The man's bulk was bear sized, and Wren scooted a little to the right to give him more elbow room. Mr. Gabriel turned and winked at Wren before squeezing her hand with his large one and picking up his own menu.

  Wren returned his smile before turning to her own menu.

  “Very good.” Ryan nodded and backed up a few steps to stand beside the host.

  Wren watched out of the corner of her eye as Sean leaned over and whispered a few words in Ryan's ear. Then the host and Ryan exited the room together.

  “How are you two holding up?” Mr. Gabriel set his menu back on the table and took a turn eyeing both of them.

  “As good as can be expected,” Sybelle spoke a notch above a whisper.

  “I can only imagine. Have you heard from the Prime Minister? I'm sure he'll want to go over a few things with you soon.”

  “We will be meeting in two weeks. He told me there is nothing to discuss that can't wait until we've had time to grieve.”

  Wren bit her lip and exhaled through her nose after listening.

  Mr. Gabriel patted her hand while nodding to Sybelle. “I agree with the Minister. I will attend the meeting then update you on the king's will and how we shall proceed. I do think it's a good idea to have a chance to grieve and allow the police to investigate before we push forward. There's a lot hanging in the balance which can't be discussed or taken on lightly.”

  “Agreed,” Sybelle nodded while continuing to look at the menu.

  “Wren, how are you?”

  “Hoping they find out who's trying to accuse and kill me before either action succeeds. Is this PI you suggested really that good?”

  “Absolutely! I have complete faith in these men. I wouldn't suggest them if I didn't. Let's not mention them to the reporters, though. I don't want the culprit to get wind of the extra measures we're taking. So, it's between us for now.”

  Wren and Sybelle nodded as the door opened once again. Sean and Ryan reentered. Ryan brought their water to them as the host held the door open for their guests. The moment for discretion and public faces had arrived.

  Wren took a deep breath and swallowed. The thought of eating settled like a solid rock in the depths of her stomach. Taking a sip of her water, she spotted Sybelle doing the same. The older woman sent Wren a weak smile, one of truce Wren perceived, and she nodded to her stepmother in affirmation. For now, they would be a united front. She knew how to behave in public.

  The reporters were men and women of varying ages. Several carried their own cameras while others had brought their own photographers with them. They all had been checked and their press passes verified before they were allowed inside. In all, thirteen men and women lined up on the other side of the royal's table to shake their hands and thank them for the opportunity to grill them.

  After the last one had gone through the line and found their seat at one of the many tables facing the royals, Sybelle eyed Wren and Mr. Gabriel before nodding at them both and taking a stand. She was ready to start the afternoon.

  “Croeso! Welcome to all of you. Thank you all for joining us today. As you know, it has been a trying time for our family.” She nodded in Wren's direction as she spoke. Wren glanced at the crowd before focusing her eyes back on the queen.

  For the first time ever, Wren felt a poke of thankfulness for her stepmother. The feeling surprised her and pricked her eyelids. She didn't want to feel compassion or indebtedness to this woman. Sybelle had killed her father.

  She was sure of it.

  Swallowing, Wren sat straight in her chair and dug her fingernails into her palm to refocus her thoughts. She didn't want to go down this road of appreciation. She had no clue where it came from, but she refused to think of Sybelle as a friend. Ever. The woman was manipulative, and Wren needed to remember the truth.

  “We hope this will prove to be a time where we can share in our sorrow, and answer a few of your questions. After the questions have been answered, you are all welcome to stay and eat lunch with us. Thank you for your respect at this tough time. Mr. Gabriel will help get us started.”

  Sybelle took her seat as Mr. Gabriel's large stature rose from his chair and towered over everyone.

  Croeso! Welcome!” It sounded as if a loud, deep firecracker had gone off. “We will do this in an orderly fashion. We are going to start on our left,” he pointed, “and continue down the line. You may ask one of your questions. Queen Sybelle, Princess Wren, or myself will respond, and then we will move to the next person and the next question.”

  Pausing, he looked around the room. “You will have one follow-up question during your turn. You all will have thirty minutes to ask the questions you need to and take a general statement from the Queen and Princess. Then, we will break for lunch. Are there any questions about this?”

  No one raised their hands or asked for clarification.

  “All right. Let us begin.” Mr. Gabriel took his seat once more and nodded at the first reporter.

  “Hello, my name is Donald Frazier from The Daily Dues. My question to start off is how are you both, Queen Sybelle and Princess Wren, handling the murder of King Cynfor?”

  Sybelle looked at Wren and made sure it was okay for her to speak first before she answered.

  “It is a difficult and tragic adjustment. I am sure you are all aware of the circumstances surrounding my husband, the King's, death. I know I speak for Wren as well when I say we both want the person responsible for this tragedy caught. It will be hard moving forward, and we are taking it one day at a time.”

  “Same question, Princess?”

  Throat clogging, Wren tried to swallow twice before answering. She could feel her face turning bright red. Cameras flashed, blinding Wren for a moment until she turned her eyes back down to the table.

  “I feel my stepmother spoke well in addressing how difficult this moment is for the both of us. I don't think any words can describe what we are feeling right now. We are holding out hope for the tenacity of the police to prevail and the truth to come to light.”

  She glanced back up at the small crowd, and said, “This is a tragic time for us both. It is hard to process something like this happening, let alone your inner sanctuary being invaded. We
are both unspeakably sad. The loss of my father, the King, is something we will not get past soon. If ever.”

  Notes were being scribbled as they spoke. Wren took comfort in not looking at anyone directly. She watched the pencils scribbling across notepads, only glancing up occasionally.

  Swallow. Breathe. In, out. You can do this. An inner voice cheered her on, and she set her shoulders back.

  “Do the police have any solid leads on the killer?” the next reporter asked.

  “They are looking into every avenue. No stone is being left unturned as they search, but they have no definite leads yet.” Queen Sybelle spoke for them both.

  “My follow-up would be, do either of you suspect anyone at this time?

  “I don't suspect anyone,” Sybelle replied. “I think it would be horrendous to pass that blame onto any one person before all the facts are before us. The police are taking great lengths to find those clues and inconsistencies.”

  “I agree with the Queen,” Wren added. “Blame is not going to help catch the person responsible. We are taking all the facts in as the police reveal them to us. Right now, that's all we can do.” She decided she wouldn’t accuse her stepmother or anyone in front of these people.

  “So, do you suspect anyone?” another asked.

  “Not at this time. We believe it is an outside threat. We don't believe anyone in our palace family would do such a thing.”

  Wren nodded to verify her position on Sybelle's response.

  “Neither of you suspect the other?” A pause.

  “The Queen and Princess have no reason to suspect each other and are a united front in finding the murderer,” Mr. Gabriel’s deep voice broke through. “Please remember, Queen Sybelle and Princess Wren are here to share how they are dealing with the murder, and not to cast suspicion on anyone.”

  The camera took a few more shots.

  “Exactly,” Sybelle added. “We both loved the King. There's no blame between us.” Sybelle took it upon herself to respond.

  Wren nodded again and sent her stepmother a side glance before turning her gaze to the table. Sybelle's reply was gracious considering Wren's outright accusations. However, Wren remembered her stepmother telling her they would keep their beliefs to themselves and not tell the media their own suspicions. At least now Wren had an idea of how well the queen could lie.

  The questions continued, varying over the same format. Who do you think did it? What are the clues so far? Was the weapon really found at the palace? Do either of you feel safe staying at the palace after this has occurred? What if the assassin gets you next? The attempt on your lives at the graveside, do you think it's the same person?

  Wren's shoulders began to droop, her back slumping throughout the thirty-minute torture session. She straightened in her chair for the hundredth time when Mr. Gabriel called a halt to the questions. The reporters elected to stay and eat with the royal family. This was a treat not often granted, and a half hour more to shove some food into their hungry mouths would not make or break their deadlines. Besides, no one would say no to the queen and princess.

  Menus were handed out, meals ordered, and the company was left to talk amongst themselves as they waited. Reporters attempted to side talk with the queen and princess, but Mr. Gabriel put a stop to their further inquiry by reminding them they had their stories and the news press releases from both the queen and princess. They discussed nothing relating to the king or his murder.

  A few asked for more pictures of the queen and princess together. Sybelle and Wren obliged as the discussion turned to upcoming events the royal family had scheduled for the future. A tour of the orphanage, an opening of a new school in the city, and a visit to The Care Center- an elderly living facility were the main topics.

  Wren was thrilled when the luncheon came to an end, and the reporters rushed out after a loud thank you. Sybelle and Wren stayed behind with Mr. Gabriel and the guards until the last reporter had left the building. After paying the bill and thanking the staff for their hard work and consideration, Wren followed behind as they walked back to the front of the restaurant and out to their car.

  Mr. Gabriel paused on the sidewalk to give them one last reminder. “The PI will arrive on Friday. I had hoped to be there myself but may be unable to attend due to a previous engagement. I’m working to clear my schedule, but if I can’t make it, please just tell the PI what you would tell me. On another note, you both did great today. I know this was draining, so please go home and rest. Remember, I am here if either of you need me.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gabriel.” Sybelle placed her hands on his shoulders and gave him a half hug and kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you, Mr. Gabriel,” Wren added her appreciation and gave the large man a tight hug. Feeling as if she was about to leave behind her only ally and friend, Wren turned to climb into the back of the limo.

  Sybelle's head had just ducked inside when Wren felt herself being sucked into someone's arms and bent low. A huge boom echoed repeatedly over their heads. Once, twice, three times as they huddled to the ground.

  “Get down!” Shouts called out, voices unrecognizable as screams joined them, and Mr. Gabriel's voice boomed above them all.

  Sirens screamed and added to the noise. Police officers, who’d acted as escort for the outing, fired at the shooter and radios crackled as backup was called. Wren felt herself being shoved into the back of the limo where her stepmother was curled onto the floor, her hands over her head. Wren followed her example and dived to the floor.

  Shots continued to split the air again and glass shattered with a shriek. Wren heard her cries mix with Sybelle's.

  “Get them out of here!” The door slammed. Wren's body jerked forward, back, and then to the left as the limo hit the accelerator, and the engine jumped into action.

  The food she just ate backed itself into her throat. Repeated swallowing and a lengthy prayer later, they arrived at the entrance of their home. Sirens pulled in behind them. Neither of the women moved from the floor even after the limo came to a complete stop.

  A door opened and then a second door. Wren could see the interior light up around them, but she was trembling too hard to sit up.

  “Queen Sybelle, Princess Wren, we need to get you safely inside and assess the situation.” Ward's voice came from above their heads.

  Wren rose up and noticed for the first time the glass sliding and rolling over her. One of the shots had hit the limo window and showered shards all over them. Sybelle slowly sat up as well.

  “What happened?” Sybelle squeaked, picking her shirt forward between two fingers and shaking the shards off her.

  “We'll explain inside. Please, let me help you out.”

  Ward took the queen's hand and pulled her from the floor and out onto the cement. A uniformed officer escorted her up the stairs and into the open door where Davies stood with his eyes wide open and mouth opening and closing.

  “Princess?”

  Wren took her gaze from the shattered window and squinted up at Ward. Without a word, she allowed him to grab her right arm and drag her out of the limo. Her limbs found it hard to cooperate.

  Glass slid off her clothes and scattered across the cement. Collecting crumbles here and there and creating a rainbow where the sun caught prisms of white-clear pieces, Wren saw the pieces sparkle and could only stare. Unfocused, Ward and an officer each took one of her arms and followed after her stepmother. Inside, Ward took her straight to, up the stairs, and down the hall to her new room.

  “Go on in and get changed,” he told her. “I'll send Ellie to you.”

  Nodding, Wren closed the door behind her and fell back against it. Her mind kept playing in flashes. Someone yawning, doors to the cars being opened, and the earsplitting rapport of the shots.

  Replaying it all in her mind, Wren tried to figure out if her stepmother had seen it coming. Trying to picture it all again, she wondered if Sybelle had seemed eager to get into the limo before her. Had she slid her way in front? Did he
r stepmother squeeze in first to get away from the shots she knew were coming?

  Head pounding, eyes hurting, Wren stumbled to the sofa and sat down. She rested her head against the arm and took deep breaths.

  In, out. In, out. It's okay. You're alive.

  For how long?

  If the killer wasn't her stepmother, then who was it? If it was her stepmother, then how would she prove it? Wren wasn't certain how to prove her stepmother was involved.

  I wish these headaches would go away. They've proven persistent over the last few weeks. Massaging her forehead, temples, and ears with her fingertips, Wren tried to work out the pain.

  “Wren!” Ellie's voice reached her through a fog.

  “Ellie,” she sighed.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I feel funny.” Her voice sounded as if it were coming through a tunnel. “My head won't stop hurting.”

  “Here, lay down. I'll grab some aspirin. They settled your stepmother in her room. She's hysterical. Mrs. Griffith is with her now. What happened?”

  “More shots. They tried to get us on the walk to the limo. Sybelle had just ducked inside when the shots rang out. I don't know. I don't know.”

  “What don't you know?” Ellie asked, pausing on the way to the bathroom.

  “It has to be her. It has to be.” Wren shuddered, her gaze focused on the coffee table. Eyes red and glazing, head pounding, she tried to fight the blackness. Shaking her head didn't help to clear the haze.

  “Wren?”

  “Nothing makes sense. Why won't my head stop hurting?” Slamming her fist against the arm of the sofa, she rubbed her fingers up and down her forehead.

  “Wren, lay down. I'll be right back.”

  Murderer. She's got to be the murderer. I don't know. I don't know. You DO know!

  Dark black dots filled her eyes, she laid her head against the arm and brought her feet up onto the sofa. Letting the black fill her vision, she closed her eyes and tried to block the memory of the shots pouring down from the sky.

  Murderer?

  13