Sleeping Beauty (Not Quite the Fairy Tale Book 7)(18)
“Then it’s settled. I’ll call.”
Things were starting to make more sense now. He’d worked with local governors to set up electronic elections. The palace was once again fully staffed.
Still, it felt too easy. There had been no public defamation, no attacks coming from the nobles he’d demoted wordlessly. Rupert wasn’t so naive as to think they could have simply moved on quietly. They were scheming. And this certainly did make him sound paranoid.
Paranoid kings lived.
“Any news from your father?” he asked Rory.
She always looked a little sad when he mentioned him.
“He’s tried to call every day. I haven’t picked up yet. Call me a chicken if you must.”
He smiled, glad of it, for no doubt, the man intended to be difficult to her. He’d seen his look before he’d left the Council. Rupert felt incredibly protective of his Rory, wishing to plant himself between her and any sorrow.
So, he did just that.
“We’ll also see him for dinner. I’ll get an invitation sent out. And pacify him as best we can. I don’t want him back amongst my advisors,” he wasn’t budging there, “but there’s a principality up north, not far from his home. He may like to be a Prince of the realm.”
“He’d like that, no doubt.”
She left it at that.
“But it won’t be enough.”
“No, it won’t.” She explained, “My father has always been severe and honor was very important to him. My aunts do say that it has a lot to do with my mother running out on us. That I could…” she gulped, “betray him like this won’t be easily forgotten.”
“He betrayed me,” Rupert said. “His king. The only reason I make any effort towards him is because I happen to like his child.”
“Yes, well, I doubt he’ll see it that way.”
Rupert doubted it too. One of the reasons why he couldn’t say he was particularly surprised when, four hours later, when he got out of his bathroom ready for bed, his Regent, the old Hand’s grandson, appeared armed and flanked by a dozen men.
He’d expected it, sooner or later. Now it was show time.
Rupert smirked. He didn’t attempt to fight. Not when what he needed right now was to show them exactly how pointless their little rebellion was.
“Rupert Evermore, King of Old, for the good of this Kingdom, we relieve you of your duties.”
He smiled. “Of course you do.”
He’d expected exactly this, and it was the only reason why he hadn’t publicly made his intentions towards Rory known. She wouldn’t be involved now.
“Take him away,” Stephenson ordered.
Someone covered his eyes, but he knew just where he was led: left, then downstairs, then left again, and at the very end of a corridor, before going up for eight flights of stairs. To his dungeons.
Good. They weren’t getting out of the castle. Stupid of them, but good. It made things much easier for him.
He heard heavy metal bars open and close. Then, they removed the useless piece of cloth over his eyes.
Stephenson stood before him. His resemblance to Rory was so faint. Just the eyes. But it was enough for Rupert to hesitate. Could he - should he - destroy this man?
“Now, let’s get straight to the point. You don’t know this Kingdom like we do. You can’t hope to be a good ruler just because of the blood in your veins. When things got tough, you ran last time. You let your people die of the plague and saved yourself.”
Wrong, and wrong again.
He’d heard about the theory that he’d been frozen to escape a plague - Rory had told him. But it hadn’t happened when he’d left; he’d sent plenty of physicians across the land to cure the ailment a good year before the event that had unfolded because of his stupid wife and a goddamn silver plate.
Chapter 15
A Silver Plate
Then.
Five years. How quickly the time flew. He’d just blinked and his baby was a little girl now. A mini-lady who called him Daddy. There was no love between him and Marina but he’d forever be grateful to her for giving him this.
The Queen was quite put out with him since he’d made Mal Aurora’s godmother, bypassing all of her friends. But he’d long ceased to listen to anything she had to say, so he ignored her and went to inform his friend of her new station.
Mal sighed and asked, “Must I accept?”
“You must, for I don’t trust anyone else with Aurora’s wellbeing,” he’d replied. If anything happened to him, Mal would see to the child. Of that, he had no doubt. And something could befall him; he wasn’t blind. Marina was scheming and conspiring, whispering in the ears of his weakest knights and most corrupt Councilmen.
They were at the dawn of a rebellion, he could smell it.
“I need to ask you a favor.”
“Another one, you mean,” the Fay retorted.
“One you might like more. You know of the protection placed around the castle and around all of Ferren?”
The Fay nodded slowly.
“Tell me.”
She took a minute before answering. “It was a selfish act, born of fear, and dooming thousands of men in the process. The first Evermore wasn’t Fay-born like the kings of other great nations. He wasn’t immortal, didn’t have a drop of blessed blood. That made him vulnerable. What he had was technology. Great robots the size of mountains. He could have conquered the whole continent with them, if it hadn’t been for the magic of Alenia and the brutality of the wild beasts in Ennom. At last, there was peace, but he’d seen war and he didn’t want to face it again alone. To ensure that he, and his family, would be cared for by the men of Ferren, he laid a terrible fate on you all. A curse greater than I’ve seen. This is why I have made my home here - why there’s other Fay north, east, and south of your Kingdom.”