Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Yes, Hastings?”
He steps forward, a newspaper laid on a silver tray, his expression even graver than usual. He usually puts the papers on the breakfast table.
“Good morning, Your Grace. I apologize for intruding. I thought Your Grace would wish to see this, before Lady Aubrey comes downstairs.”
I hold out my hand impatiently, wondering what’s rattled the man, this early in the morning. If there was threat to the King, the new head of palace security would have informed me already. I don’t know Jakob Rasmussen, all that well, but he seems like a capable and intelligent man.
I unfold the newspaper. “What am I—?”
I was about to ask what I’m looking for, but it’s right there on the front page, in letters three inches high.
My worst nightmare.
Chapter Sixteen
Wraye
“Darling, look. Crumpets and honey for breakfast. Your favorite.”
Mama beams at me as I sit down at our rickety kitchen table. Crumpets and honey is my favorite breakfast, but, normally, we don’t have it unless it’s my birthday, and sometimes, not even then. Honey was eye-wateringly expensive under the People’s Republic. Just about every country in Europe had trade sanctions against Paravel, because of Varga’s human rights abuses. No German beer. No Spanish olives. No French cheese. Only home-grown food that, sometimes, wasn’t very imaginative. Or tasty.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask, staring at the golden toasted crumpets she sets before me. Even crumpets and honey can’t rouse my appetite. It vanished three days ago, when Devrim shouted at me to get out.
“No occasion,” Mama says, buttering one for herself and lavishly adding honey from a jar. Honey is cheaper now that we have international imports, but in this house, we’re still low on money for luxuries like this.
Mama bites into her crumpet, with relish as I reach for a newspaper to distract myself from my errant thoughts.
And feel my empty stomach plummet through the floor.
A headline on the front page of one of the tabloids screams, LEVANTER’S SHAME: KING, QUEEN UNGUARDED AND SLAUGHTERED.
I shoot to my feet, clutching the paper.
“Darling? Are you all right?”
I don’t reply because I’m trying to gather my shattered wits, enough to read what’s written on the page.
Archduke Devrim Levanter, the man entrusted with protecting the royal family, abandoned the former King and Queen to be slaughtered by People’s Republic rebels.
The Daily Herald can exclusively report, according to several sources close to the palace, that the Captain of the King’s Guard, Archduke Devrim Levanter, is solely responsible for King Gregor and Queen Penelope’s deaths.
Levanter, then just twenty-six years old, ordered his men to leave the throne room, where the King and Queen were sheltering, on the final day of the Midsummer Riots. The rebels then slaughtered the loving, unarmed couple. Paravel subsequently fell to Harald Varga and his army of People’s Republic fighters.
Did Levanter’s inexperience account for his catastrophic blunder? Or was it a plot far more insidious?
“I’ve had my doubts about Levanter for a long time,” said a palace insider. “He’d like to sit on the throne himself.” Levanter is distantly related to King Anson and ninth in line for the throne. He spent the duration of the People’s Republic behind bars, alongside every surviving member of the King’s Guard.
King Anson was just eight years old when his parents were murdered. It’s possible he’s unaware his most trusted protector has royal blood on his hands. Such revelations are causing some to call for treason charges to be laid against the Archduke. His immediate resignation is anticipated by many.
Archduke Levanter was contacted regarding these accusations but declined to comment.
I stare at the page in horror. The flashy headline. The picture of Devrim in his King’s Guard uniform. He’s been photographed, squinting into the sun, his expression making him look shady and calculating.
I read the article again, and the vagueness of the language jumps out at me. According to several sources. A palace insider. Who are these people? Are they even real?
“This is a pack of filthy lies,” I say in a shaky voice.
Mama takes the paper out of my hands. “Darling, how could you know such a thing? Were you there? I’ve always thought that man had a guilty air about him.”
“Of course, he feels guilty! His King and Queen were murdered, but that doesn’t mean it’s his fault. The rebels seized the whole country.”
Tears fill my eyes. This was why Devrim became so upset, when I sang that stupid song about Gunvald Lungren. He was reliving his failure and seeing his hated enemy slaughter his King and Queen.
Mama sniffs, examining Devrim’s photograph. “Maybe they wouldn’t have been slaughtered, if Levanter hadn’t abandoned his post.”
“Mama, don’t tell me you believe what’s printed in this horrid newspaper?”
“Now that I see it in black and white, I think it must be true. So will everyone else in Paravel, once they read this.”
“What happened to all that deference you told me we had to show for him? He invited us into his home. He’s been nothing but kind to us.”