The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(115)
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.”