Sleeping Beauty (Not Quite the Fairy Tale Book 7)(11)

“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.”





Chapter 9





Queen of Tomorrow





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 bed sheet up to her neck to hide her nighty, 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 towards 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.