Aurora nervously ran her hands on her skirts, hoping that her sweaty palms wouldn’t leave a mark. The King’s plan had been sound - indeed, the only sane course of action, but she bit her lips nonetheless, her heart full of what ifs. It could go wrong. In fact, it probably would. And even if everything went perfectly as they hoped, what then? What of her? Her entire world was going to be swept into oblivion.

Still, she went, keeping her head down and ignoring the whispers around her.

They all wondered who’d called the meeting. At first, they’d assumed it was her father, the only man with the authority and means to push the red button in his valise. The fingerprint recognition software validated the identity of the Regent before connecting to the network of noblemen of Ferren and letting him summon them.

Ferren had always been a few steps ahead of the rest of the world, when it came to matters of science. One of the many reasons why no one had stepped into the King’s rooms since his fall. They couldn’t. Each night, a system locked his apartments - and more importantly, his office - and no one but him, or his named heir could have access to it. Retinal recognition. The technology was a hundred years old but it still worked quite well.

They’d moved between the walls, taking secret passages Aurora had never known of, until they’d arrived in front of The Red Door. A door she’d passed a thousand times. Seeing it open in front of her made her heart tighten in her chest. She was witnessing history.

His rooms were dusty; spiders and rats had taken residence in the silver and blue royal quarters, eating at the curtains, and crapping on the floor. It was also quite cold and smelled dreadful.

“You can’t sleep here,” said she, holding her hand over her nose.

“Nor do I intend to.” He’d seemed quite indifferent to the disastrous surroundings, moving in his familiar apartments until he’d reached his desk. He sat on the chair, sharing it with a large spider that made Aurora take three steps back.

Rupert smiled.

“I didn’t take you for a 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 feel 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, and swept the entire room with one glance before sitting on his empty Throne.

Rupert then made a statement: his thumb brushed the control panel to his right. It slid open, to let him pull out a blue notebook covered in webs.

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 then 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.”

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 turned to her on his way out, suddenly, 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.”