THE KING HAS BEEN IN his office constantly, people coming and going, from MI6, to the Prime Minister, important people on a mission to get to the bottom of what’s happened. The incident hasn’t been contained from public. Gunshots in the countryside is not unheard of; high society shoot in the area frequently. But on that day, there were no scheduled shooting meetings. The bullet missed my brother, but it took out his horse. The sketchy reports in the newspapers is putting pressure on the Royal Press Office to put out an official statement.
Poor Eddie looks as dazed now as he did on that wretched day. He’s here, but not really here. We’ve talked, but he’s not in the conversation, his mind clearly wandering. I can’t blame him. The questions are driving everyone around here insane, including me. Not just because it’s becoming less likely each day that whoever is responsible will be tracked down and an explanation found, but because until then, no one is going anywhere.
If I ever felt like a prisoner before, now I feel buried alive. Claringdon is on lockdown, no one is permitted to leave. For two weeks, I’ve been contained within the palace walls, not even allowed to roam the gardens without Damon in tow. I’m struggling to breathe, and this is only worsened by the fact that I haven’t been able to see Josh for the whole time. We have spoken every day and there are constant text messages going back and forth. But no matter how much contact we have, it doesn’t ease the growing ache in my heart. He left for New Zealand last week. Now, he’s on the other side of the world, and I don’t know when I might see him again. The time difference is a nightmare too, our calls limited simply because of that. My only comfort is knowing he is missing me as much as I am missing him. My mobile phone has been glued to my hand wherever I go. When I take a shower, I prop it up on the vanity unit and never take my eyes off the screen until I’m done. When I eat, it’s in my lap on vibrate, so I’ll know the second Josh calls or texts me and I can excuse myself quickly. I may be naïve, but I am sure Eddie is the only person who has noticed the extreme activity of my phone and my extended time alone so I can talk to Josh. Everyone else is too distracted by the shock of Eddie’s incident. It would be a blessing in disguise if I could monopolize on the hypothetical space I’m being given. But I can’t, and it is slowly driving me to despair.
As I’m weaving through the maze at the far side of the grounds, my phone clutched in my hand, I smile to myself, looking at the sky for some imaginary sense of freedom. Damon is only a few paces behind me, ever close, though he has detected my need to at least feel like I have some privacy, only speaking to me when he’s spoken to.
There’s a quick route to the center, where the imposing statue of my grandfather dwells, yet today I take the long route, ambling like I have all the time in the world, which, technically, I have. It’s bright today, the sun warming my bare shoulders, the quiet needed. I try to focus on the sounds of birds tweeting, of the hosepipes spraying water upon the beds of flowers, instead of listening to the endless questions circling my mind. To most people, this would be heaven. But for me, it’s the farthest away from heaven I could be. Quite literally.
“It’s late in New Zealand,” I say to Damon, as I glance at the world clock on my phone.
“Yes. Eleven, ma’am.”
I return my attention forward as I near the turning that will have me at the center of the maze.
The day feels like it has gone on forever already, yet it’s only midday. As the huge statue of the late king comes into view, I stop at the edge of the clearing, taking him in from top to toe, the white shiny marble perfect in my less than perfect world. And I wonder, is this what I will become? A statue or a portrait on the walls of the palace, perfect in my death. Will people remember me, and if they do, for what? The daughter of the King, the controversial princess who defied the strong arm of the Royal Family? The one person who stood up for herself and refused to bow to the expectations of the throne? The one royal who fought for happiness with the man she loved. I smile, dropping my eyes to the base of the statue, seeing Josh there, champagne in his hand and a cunning smirk on his face. Yes, I will be that princess. Because I refuse to be anything less.
“Ma’am, your phone,” Damon says, startling me from my thoughts. I look down and see Josh’s name, and life literally surges through my veins at an epic rate.
I answer on a long sigh. “Fifteen days, twelve hours, and sixteen minutes.”
“And twenty seconds,” he replies. “The longest fuckin’ time of my life. Shit, I’m going out of my mind, Adeline.”
“Me too.” I stroll past the exact point where Josh first got his hands on me, all the feelings and conflict powering forward, reminding me of where my American boy and I began.
“Where are you?” Josh asks as I come to a stop at the foot of the statue, turning and resting my backside on my grandfather’s shins.
“I’m in the maze staring at the spot where you ordered me to my knees.” My eyes root to the grass and stay there, aware that Damon is close enough to hear, but I’m way beyond caring. I hope the entire world knows soon.
“Damn you, woman. Why’d you have to tell me that?”
“I miss you,” I murmur. Despondency is a vice on my soul, squeezing, the weight pulling me down. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
“I’m at the airport,” he tells me, and I look at Damon, as if searching for confirmation that I heard Josh right. “I’m about to fly to London.”
I straighten, and Damon frowns, clearly wondering why I’m tense. “What?”
“Filming is done here. I have a week’s grace before we head to South Africa.”
“But, Josh, I can’t go anywhere. I’m trapped here.” Despite the overwhelming happiness that Josh is coming back to London, too much misery is masking it. Knowing he’s within a few miles when I’m confined to Claringdon will be torture of the worst kind.
“They can’t keep you there forever. Something’s gotta give soon, before I do. How’s Eddie? Have there been any developments?”
“He’s fine. And no, nothing.” I hear the sound of an announcement in the background. “What’s that?”
“Last boarding call. I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you the moment I land, okay?”
“Okay.” I look at Damon as I disconnect, reading his questioning expression. “He’s coming back.”
Worry. It’s written all over his face in an instant at this news. “Don’t you be pulling any wild stunts.”
“Damon, when will this be over? They can’t keep us prisoners here forever.”
I see him breathe in his patience, taking his phone from his pocket when it rings. “Yes?” He turns away and starts pacing. “I’m on my way.”
“What is it?” I ask, the second he cuts the call, pushing myself off the legs of my grandfather.
“Meeting in the King’s office.” He’s quick to collect me, tugging me along, his way of telling me I’m not remaining out here without him. “You can have lunch with Queen Catherine while I’m busy.”
I take the lead when I note that Damon is going the entirely wrong way through the maze to get us out in the most efficient time. “What is it? Do you think they have found whoever did this?”
“I don’t know anything until I get there, Adeline.”
“But you’ll tell me, won’t you?”
Damon looks at me, wary and affectionately. “Yes.”
I power on, keen to get Damon to the King’s office without delay.
I’M PACING, THE CARPET BENEATH my Uggs close to becoming threadbare. They’ve been in there for two hours now. The King, the Prime Minister, head of MI6, close protection, Sir Don, Davenport, and David Sampson. The only important person who seems to have slipped the guest list is God himself.
I’m the only one keeping close watch of the doors, the only one who seems to care whether the bars of this godforsaken jail will be opened anytime soon. Of course, I’m desperate to hear news of a satisfactory outcome, first and foremost, but my eagerness is only amplified by the fact that it will signal the end of my captivity.
When the doors to the King’s office open, I come to an abrupt halt in my pacing, watching on a held breath to see who will emerge. It’s Davenport. He looks at me. The stony face of the man who has served my father so steadfastly for so long is soft, as it has been for these past couple of weeks. This whole messy affair has affected us all, but Davenport, the impenetrable, cold man, seems deeply affected. It’s a comfort knowing he’s human after all. Nodding, he passes me, making his way down the stairs as the rest of the room empties onto the huge landing of the palace. I spot Damon amid the sea of heads and hurry over to him. “Well?” I ask, falling into stride next to him. “Have they found whoever is responsible?”
“No.”
His straight answer slows my pace, and I deflate, all of my hope wasted. I stare at his suit-covered back as the distance grows between us, until he comes to a stop and looks back, searching me out. His face softens when he sees my utter despair, and he paces back, placing his hand in the customary position on the small of my back to push me on.
“There are no leads. No evidence. No motives. Nothing.” I’m escorted down the stairs, Damon scoping the area with keen eyes before moving in close to my ear again. “It seems Eddie got caught in the crossfire of someone out shooting, probably illegally.”
“What?”
“No one will come forward and own up to shooting illegally, especially near royal land. I know that, they know that. It’s been agreed that the Royal Family can leave Claringdon, but extra security measures will be put in place as a precautionary measure.”
My relief is profound, for Eddie and for me, though I’m not sure what extra measures means. But I do know the republicans will be up in arms. Extra measures is just another reason for them to protest about what a waste of space and money we are. “So I can leave?”
“You can leave.” Damon stops us at the bottom of the stairs, taking the tops of my arms. “But, and you hear me well, I am not beyond calling for your detainment here at Claringdon if you so much as put one foot out of place, do you hear me? No silly jaunts across London. No harebrained attempts to escape Kellington. You give me the runaround, young lady, and . . . and . . .” He doesn’t know what, but he doesn’t need to find a threat.
I place my hand over his mouth. “I swear I won’t go anywhere.” My promise is solemn, and he nods, thankful. “Without telling you,” I add.
I’m scowled at. “You are a pain in the royal arse, ma’am.” He releases me and stands back, straightening out his suit. “I’ll get the car ready.”
I’m gone in a flash, racing up the stairs as I bash out an excited text to Josh on my way. I don’t bother calling Jenny or Kim to help me. It will take too long. I have my things together quickly, everything stuffed into a bag haphazardly with frantic hands before the decision to free everyone is withdrawn. I don’t call for assistance from one of the footmen, lugging my bag myself through the palace, my steps rushed, my heartbeats fast.
“Your Highness.” Davenport’s call from across the gallery landing doesn’t slow my stride. If anything, it injects more urgency into it, my bag jumping down the steps behind me as I run down them. “Your Highness.”
I stop, closing my eyes, praying I’ll be allowed to leave. “Yes, Major?”
“The King would like to see you.”
My heart sinks. Everything inside of me sinks. Will he order me to Spain again with Haydon? Looking to Davenport, I try to read him, try to gauge what I’m going to face. He’s expressionless, back to the Davenport we all know and don’t love. “I was just leaving.” My declaration carries no impact. His arm sweeps out in gesture toward my father’s office, and I follow it with my eyes, staring at the door where the King sits beyond. On a lumpy swallow, I abandon my bag on the stairs and drag myself back up, my heart in my feet as I trudge to the office.
Davenport opens the door and announces me. I’m not in the least bit surprised to find David Sampson and Sir Don relaxed in the chairs opposite my father’s desk. Their presence has been a constant for the whole lockdown. The King is immersed in his usual plume of putrid air, chewing on the end of a fat cigar, but he looks tired, his complexion grey, a far cry from the alcohol-induced rosy cheeks he usually sports. Chairs litter the floor space, all brought in to seat the masses of men who have been here for the endless meetings these past two weeks.
“Father.” I sound meek, timid, and it is only being fueled by my growing trepidation.
“Sit, Adeline,” he orders, sucking tightly on the end of the brown stick hanging from his mouth. Even my moves are apprehensive, my body slow in lowering to the chair, my eyes constantly casting between the men. “You are to return to Kellington,” he tells me, firm and blunt. “You will not leave the grounds until clearance has been given.”
I nod, though I’m wondering if every other member of this family has received the same warning. So I’m being moved, but only from one prison to another. I still won’t be able to see Josh. The King’s priorities may have changed since this madness, but I haven’t forgotten that I was in the process of being shipped to Spain with Haydon prior to all of this. My mind spirals, questions and worry all blending together, causing a fuzz that is not allowing me to think straight.
“The monarchy has been pulled through the media shredder these past weeks.” Father flicks his eyes to David Sampson, who nods mildly, like he is encouraging the King to push on. “We need something to take the limelight off Edward’s incident. Some good news.”
He doesn’t need to go on. I know exactly what will be said next. Some good news. Like an engagement. My ribcage is sustaining some pretty brutal crashes of my heart into it, though I fight not to allow my anger and pain to show. I need to think on my feet. So now I will be used as a distraction from the negativity? Be pushed into a marriage with a man I do not love. Father will be killing two birds with one stone, so to speak. How very resourceful of him. “I understand,” I say, my voice calm and straight, though on the inside I am disintegrating. Words form in my head, all sensible words, my survival instinct kicking in. I need to buy myself some time.
I sit forward in my chair, looking directly into my father’s eyes. “I would like to go to Evernmore,” I say, and his head cocks a little, interested. The royal estate in the Scottish Highlands is as close as you could get to the wilderness in Britain, nothing within miles and miles. It’s where we spend our Christmases, and where the King and Queen Consort holiday. It’s where members of the Royal Family escape to when they need space. It’s also less of a fortress than any other royal residences. “I realize my role in the good news you speak of.” I sound so calm, and I honestly do not know how I’m doing it. “I’m asking for a few days to process this. To process my future.”
The King is rarely taken aback. But my lack of retaliation—my seeming compliance—has pushed him back in his chair, his eyes passing between David, Sir Don, and me. David, I notice, is also slightly startled.
“I don’t see why not,” Father says. I sag in relief, thanking him profusely in my head for giving me this little bit of freedom before he locks me up for my life sentence.
“I’m not sure that would benefit anyone,” David says, and I shoot him a look, enraged. “Let us just get on with it.”
“Two days,” I grate, turning my pleading eyes onto the King. “Just two days, Father. That’s all I ask.” I can sense David doesn’t trust me. I won’t let him sway my father’s decision, won’t allow him to take this gift from me. It feels like a hundred years while I wait for my father to decide whose side he is on, a hundred years of holding my breath and holding back my shakes.
“Two days,” Father finally says, making David grunt and me jump up from my chair in elation.
“Thank you so much, Your Majesty.” I round his desk and do something so out of the ordinary, dipping and kissing his cheek. “I will relish the fresh air and walk every trail in the loch you showed us as children.”
A smile from my father is an exceptional privilege, and so is any display of affection. I get both. He beams at me, tapping my hand where it rests on his shoulder. The easiness, I know, is only because I finally appear to be bowing to his demand, though I cherish it nevertheless. “Two days,” he affirms. “You can leave tomorrow morning. I’ll have the royal helicopter take you.”
“I’d rather drive.” I scold myself for my small protest. I shouldn’t be pushing him, but the drive to Scotland will kill more time. “Besides,” I rush on, “No need to give the republicans an excuse to criticize our spending habits.”
Father waves a dismissive hand as he takes a long draw of his cigar. “The costs will be taken from the duchy. They can’t complain about that. By air is safer, and I’ll hear no more of it.” Smoke billows from his mouth as he speaks, engulfing me in its haze. Coughing under my breath, I move out of the cloud and relent to his wishes, simply grateful for his permission.
“Thank you.” I back away, aware of David’s sour expression fixed on me, as well as Sir Don’s. I’d love nothing more than to toss them a victorious scowl, though I refrain, keeping my head level. They would have a ring on my finger this instant, and Haydon and me on the balcony of the palace soon after, presenting us to the world as a happy couple. David is desperate to be classed as royal by marriage and association, whereas Sir Don is simply an antiquated old fool who’s trying to uphold royal traditions.
I have no idea how I play this nightmare once I’m out of this office. For now, I just need to get away from here. I need to find myself, and even more than that, I need to see Josh. He’ll know what to do.