by Aya Ling
It’s a mess inside Parliament. Pillars are lying across the floor, paintings and cabinets have crashed on the ground, tables and chairs are in disarray. Several members of the Parliament are moaning and groaning, but it looks like no one is seriously injured or unconscious. For this rare instance, I’m thankful that technology in Athelia isn’t significantly advanced, or that Quinn isn’t an expert in bombing.
“We have to get to the podium,” I say, trying to keep my emotions in check.
“Where is it?”
“You’ve never been here?”
“Ain’t my place, Princess.”
“Then I made the right decision coming in with you.” I point in the direction of the platform. “Over there.”
Together, we make our way to the platform. A window had smashed into bits; we have to take a longer route in case of getting pierced by glass shards. There’s a pillar lying straight across the podium. My heart beats fast as we approach. Bertram clears away some debris, and then I see the very person I have been searching for. Crouched beneath the podium, he looks shaken, but very much alive.
Oh my God. I wants to put my arms around him, but I’m afraid I’ll do more damage if he's injured. “Edward? Are you hurt?”
“Kat?” There is disbelief in his voice. “You must leave. It’s dangerous in here.”
“Shut up,” I say, kneeling beside him. “We’re getting you out. Are you hurt anywhere?”
“My…foot.” His voice is less steady, now he realizes I’m serious about rescuing him right away. I look at his trousers, and gasp. A huge wooden painting hanging to the right side of the podium has toppled, covering Edward’s legs a little way below the knee. That painting looks as heavy as a rock, and the force that came from its dropping off the wall must made a painful impact.
“Oh my God.” I bite my lip and place a hand on his shoulder. “Bertram, give me a hand.”
Bertram moves the painting away. I hook my arm under Edward’s armpit and help him stand up. He winces; his right foot seems okay, but he’s not putting any weight on his left foot.
“Bertram, see that the rest are removed as soon as you can.”
The young giant hesitates. “I don’ like leaving yer…”
“Don't worry about it,” I say, fitting Edward’s arm around my shoulders. I can’t carry him, but I can be his walking cane. “We’ve got to get everyone out as soon as possible.”
Outside, a huge crowd is gathered around the injured people and MPs. When I emerge with Edward, shouts of surprise and delight reverberate in the air.
“The prince is unharmed!” “Look! Katherine Wilson is carrying him!” “Three cheers for Prince Edward!”
Edward smiles and waves. I hesitate for a second, then do the same. For the first time since I’ve entered Athelia, I’m happy to bask in the screaming, whistling, and applause from the people.
46
Kat
Edward would have preferred to stay and supervise the disaster, but as reporters have arrived with their huge, bulky cameras, I persuade Edward to return to the palace. He agrees, but not before issuing an order to send for a troop of soldiers. They close off the Parliament by using wooden stools and rope, and put up several signs that say ‘Do Not Enter.’ The other soldiers assist in conveying the injured, including MPs and commoners, to the hospital.
“That foot of yours has to be treated as soon as possible,” I say, holding a piece of raw meat to his swollen foot. A butcher was among the curious onlookers, and had generously given us the meat. An ice pack would be ideal, but I’ll take what I can get under the circumstances.
“It isn’t a life-threatening injury,” he protests. “The more important matter to deal with is the Union.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t have a doctor look at your foot, and besides, I’m sure your father is in a better position to take care of the Union.” I raise my head. “Honestly, Edward, what if I were the one injured? Wouldn’t you have insisted that a doctor be sent for me right away?”
“I cannot bear it if anything happens to you.”
“Neither can I.” I glare at him. “Thank heavens that bomb didn’t do any further damage, because if you’re seriously harmed, I’m gonna kill Charlie Quinn.”
“When I heard your voice while I was hiding under the podium, I thought I had to be dreaming. I couldn’t imagine you’d risk your life coming in for me.”
“Hey, I already took a risk when the fairies transformed me into an Athelian. You’re the most important person to me, Edward. Of course I’d come find you.”
He leans down and caresses the curve of my cheek. There’s a tenderness in his eyes, which reminds me of when he used to say how precious I am to him. “I love you.”
I smile and lean into his touch, feeling his affection for me flow through his fingers. It isn’t over yet—there’s going to be a LOT of work dealing with the aftermath of the bombing. There’s no telling if the Union won’t try another attack. We have to resolve this escalated clash between classes, and do our best to ensure that a reasonable resolution can be reached. No more violence shall be inflicted, whether it may be on the people or the peers. However, Edward is safe and sound, and that is enough to give me strength to handle whatever problems that arise in the future.
* * *
Queen Isolde comes running down the grand staircase when we enter the main entrance.
“My goodness,” she gasps, gathering her skirts and hurrying to us. “Edward…what happened to your foot?”
“Nothing serious,” he assures her. I wave to a footman, signaling that he bring a chair. “There are others suffering from worse.”
“We just learned of that terrible bomb going off in Parliament. I wanted to go there as soon as possible, but your father wouldn’t let me. He said it was better to wait until you return, and let the professionals handle the injured.” Her gaze falls on me. “Kat, how did you find him?”
“She came straight into the building, looking for me,” Edward says. “She risked her life to make sure I was safe.”
The queen takes a step forward, and kisses me on both cheeks. “Bless you, my dear. I knew you’re perfect for him.”
I grin, pleased but embarrassed. “We’ve got to get the doctor for him.”
Queen Isolde calls a servant, telling him to summon the doctor right away. Servants who pass by gawk at Edward, sitting on a fancy upholstered chair while I continue to press the meat on his ankle, but I’d rather not move him upstairs to our suite. Not until the doctor performs his diagnosis.
“By the way, where is Father?” Edward asks.
“He has sent a messenger to the Commoners’ Union for the Abolition of the Privilege of Peers,” the queen says. “He wants to negotiate with them and ensure that nothing like this will ever happen again. Oh my God, Edward. When I thought of what happened in Moryn, I never expected that it would happen to us…” The queen’s affection for her son has affected her usual composure.
A palace surgeon arrives and inspects Edward’s foot.
“That looks painful, but there are no broken bones,” he says. “You must refrain from walking as much as you can. Send for ice packs from the kitchen’s underground storage. Alert me right away if the symptoms become worse.”
While the queen issues orders concerning Edward’s treatment, the doors to the main entrance open. Liam enters…or rather, is pushed ahead, by two burly palace guards. There’s a flicker of surprise when he sees us, but soon he resumes his interest in the carpet.
“Your Majesty,” the guard bows to the queen. “Your Highness. Prin…Lady Katherine. We have brought the criminal responsible for the bombing, on request of the king. Is His Majesty in his receiving chamber?”
The queen nods. “He is waiting.”
“Wait.” I stand up. “What about Charlie Quinn? He is the main culprit. Liam was with me before the bomb went off.”
The guard shakes his head. “The police didn’t find any others. This one will have to do for the ti
me being.”
“Wait,” I say again, heading to the staircase. “I’m coming as well.”
“And I,” Edward says.
“Absolutely not.” The queen and I say at the same time. The brief shock on Edward’s face makes me want to laugh, but then the current situation requires me to stay serious. “Edward, let me go. After all, I have more experience with the Union than you. Besides, I’ll never forgive you if you make your foot worse getting up those stairs.”
“Kat makes a valid point.” The queen’s eyes twinkle, in spite of the disaster that just happened.
With two votes against one, Edward waves a hand at me, his expression resigned. “Tell Father that you are representing me.”
In the receiving chamber, the king looks furious. The same kind of cold fury that Edward possesses when he learned I was shot at. Liam, his usual confidence disappeared, stands in front of the king, his eyes on the ground.
“Katherine…” The king does a double take when he sees me. “What are you doing here? Where’s my son?”
“A painting in Parliament crashed on his left foot, and the doctor told him he shouldn’t walk. So, here I am in his stead. I’m a better candidate anyway, because I’ve been to the Anti-Aristocrat’s Union’s meetings in public. I know him as well.” I point at Liam. “Edward introduced him during our honeymoon, and he was later appointed as one of the teachers at Princess College.”
The king looks at me for a brief moment, there is disbelief in his gaze, followed by appreciation. But all he does is turn back to Liam. After all, there is more important things to be resolved.
“Liam Charingford. Is this how you repay me, after everything I’ve done for you and your grandfather?”
Liam stays silent. I wonder what is going on in his head. Is he repentant, or does he think the bombing wasn’t enough?
The king pounds a fist on the gold-and-silver arm of his chair. “Did you honestly believe that bombing the Parliament would make us give in to your demands?”
“Your Majesty,” I say, sensing that his fury is getting in the way. “I have seen the crowds gathered when the Union was holding public lectures and speeches. Instead of blaming the disaster on him, perhaps we could make better use of your time making sure that a similar event will not occur again.”
The king shoots me a look mixed with surprise and irritation. I guess he isn’t used to a younger woman telling him that he should do better when dealing with a rebel. But I have to give him credit that he doesn’t yell at me for impertinence; he actually makes an effort to calm down and regain his composure.
“Is he the only member of the Union that the police caught?”
I nod. “Charlie Quinn, the leader of the Commoners’ Union for the Abolition of the Privilege of Peers, is yet to be found.”
King Leon crosses his arms and glares at Liam. “Where is Quinn?”
“I have no idea, Your Majesty.” Liam’s voice is low. “I did not agree to his scheme in the beginning; he assured me the goal was not murder, but to warn the MPs we seriously believe that the flaws in our system ought be corrected. Had I known the…the consequences, I would have attempted to stop him.” He hangs his head. “I never meant to harm Edward.”
There is a long, long pause. I dart a glance at the king, who’s breathing heavily.
The king taps his fingers on his knees. “I do not preside over the judicial court; I cannot make any guarantees about the judge’s decision. However, I will issue a royal pardon that is certain to lessen your sentence, provided you meet these conditions: you will convince Quinn to turn himself in, and in the future there will be no more acts of violence.”
Liam swallows. “I could try, but…”
“It’s not enough,” I say. “The public may condemn the bombing, but their memories are short-lived. If another harsh winter falls, or if Augustin is overthrown, the people will be roused to radical proclivities again. There has to be something done to assure the people they will be fairly treated, and we are different from the Moryn emperor.”
“Very well.” The king stands up. “I cannot abolish the peerage—I must honor the titles that their ancestors were bestowed, but I shall sign a nationwide proclamation, declaring that all future MPs will be decided by the people.”
Liam looks up. I suck in a deep breath. The king hasn’t even discussed with his ministers—does he have the power to uproot the current MPs in Parliament?
“You have my word as your sovereign, Liam Charingford,” the king says loftily—I can tell how Edward got his imperial tone and manner. “Do you agree to this arrangement, or shall I request the Metropolitan Police to deal directly with you instead?”
Liam bows. “I agree.”
After Liam is escorted from the receiving chamber, the king turns to me.
“Now, Katherine. How do we implement this system of voting?”
47
Kat
I return to the suite, my long, silken skirts rustling at my ankles. For the rest of my life, I won’t be able to wear a skirt that goes above my knees, unless in private. A pearl necklace hangs around my neck, my head is heavy with the elaborate coiffure Amelie had done this morning. It’s remarkable how quickly I’ve adjusted back to my life in the palace—it almost feels like I’ve never left. However, there’s a huge difference in our daily routine. Since Edward is advised not to walk frequently due to his broken ankle, our roles have reversed. Every morning, I go to the council meeting with his father and advisors, while he stays behind and deals with my never-ending pile of letters. A few council members raise objection, but they’re in the minority. And when I offer suggestions on how many MPs should be elected according to the eligibility of voters, the anonymity of the voters, the strict prohibition of bribes, no more objections have been reported.
Parliament has been dissolved until the new batch of MPs will be elected, but as there are numerous laws that need to be improved and introduced, we hope that the next session can be re-opened as soon as possible. We want to re-introduce the taxing of the aristocrats (and the monarchy as well). The peers will still be richer than most people, of course, but we’ll have more funding for food rations, schools, and other public spending. Edward also talks of gradually revoking the privileges for the peers. For example, there should be one court for all—all nobles and people will be tried in the same place, by the same juries. This means that in the future, aristocrats like Lord Fremont will never escape the law.
When I enter my office, Edward is sitting at my desk, where I used to occupy. His left foot is bandaged, and there’s a walking stick propped against the wall. Every time I see him limping, I have an urge to pummel Charlie Quinn for planting that bomb. Speaking of Quinn, he had turned himself in to the Metropolitan Police and protested he never planned for murder, but only destruction of property. Most of the people and peerage had been deeply shocked by the bombing, and when King Leon made a national announcement of the dissolving of Parliament, it was likely that Quinn could not continue with his rebellion. He received a fifteen-year sentence in jail, while the other members, Liam included, were sentenced to several years or unpaid labor reconstructing the Parliament building.
Edward raises his head and smiles, his eyes glowing with affection. Every time I see how he lights up in my presence, I feel that everything I’ve sacrificed for coming to Athelia has been worth it. I pull up a chair and sit close to him, nestling against his shoulder.
“This morning I have received news that greatly pleases me.”
“What is it?” I kiss his cheek. “Your father has allowed us take a week off?”
“I’d desire that as well, but perhaps not until Parliament re-opens. Actually, High Court has ruled the Pembrokes guilty of treason. Bianca will be stripped of her title and wealth. She will serve five years of hard labor on a small island near Lochmond, and then she will be evicted from the country, never to return. As for her husband, he can keep his title, but all his assets will be seized and transferred to public funds. He wil
l never be allowed to run office; indeed, he will be hardly different from a commoner.”
I have a brief moment of sympathy imagining Bianca doing hard labor, but then remembering the gunshot and Bertram clutching his side, I decide this is for the best. Bertram or I could be dead.
“Words fail to express my relief at the sentence, which is possibly the harshest ever dealt to a duke and his duchess. It is plausible that recent events have made the judges less lenient when hearing a case of an aristocrat.” Edward looks as satisfied as a cat that finished a saucer of milk. “Bianca Bradshaw has caused a great deal of damage to you in the past. She shall never harm you again.”
I smile, my heart considerably lightened. I'm glad that the Pembrokes have been convicted and sentenced. I hope it is as Edward says, that it’s because the judge has learned to overlook their eminent titles, not because I am the future princess.
Edward glances at my notebook. “What did you discuss today?”
“Hey.” I pretend to yawn. “Do you really want me to go over that boring stuff again?”
He grins, but remains expectant. Oh well. It’s one of the reasons I love him—he might be too solemn and stony-faced at times, but he always takes his responsibilities seriously.
“About reforming the boroughs that the MPs represent. Lord Ashford brought up the issue; he argued that it's unfair for a large city to have the same number of MPs as a small town. For example, Lower Bridgewater has barely a hundred residents but it has two seats in Parliament. So they are planning for a re-distribution of the seats. Philip said it was unnecessary to devote so much energy to the reform, but then Northport has three seats, so the others shot him down for being concerned with his personal interest only.”
I continue with a more detailed explanation, showing him the map of Athelia and its various districts, and Edward nods.
“This is going to be the most influential change to our country’s constitutional system. I am certain there will be flaws, but it certainly is an improvement over the hereditary seats. To be honest, when I attended the parliamentary sessions, I have been constantly annoyed by the majority of lords, who abused or neglected their legislative powers. I even had an idea of introducing a government exam. Privileges come with duties, yet most of the nobility only care for the former.”