Royal Arrangement #6

by Renna Peak

  I nod. “I understand. And I’ll see that both you and your family are rewarded for your valor.” I hand the note to him. “I promise.”

  He looks at the note before he crumples it into his pocket. “I’ll do my best, Your Highness.”

  “I know you will.”

  I call out after him as he turns to leave. “And Julian?”

  He spins to face me. “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “Thank you.”

  He gives me a single nod as he leaves my room.

  It hasn’t been often that anyone has taken my side on issues related to royal business, but perhaps I’ve never really tried.

  I glance at the tray—I never take tea before bed, but it was smart thinking on Julian’s part to bring me a beverage to get William’s note to me.

  The note is tucked inside the single ivory cloth napkin that sits to the side of the small pot of tea.

  The first thing I see is the crude drawing on the note, and I can’t help myself—I laugh out loud. But the warning at the bottom of the note is what is of more importance.

  It shouldn’t surprise me at all that my brother is in on everything that is going on around here. My father needs to prepare him to rule, after all. And part of that includes making sure that I never have the opportunity.

  I look around my room for a weapon. It isn’t as though I have knives or guns stored in my suite. In fact, there’s really nothing that could serve as a weapon at all. My shelves are lined with books, and the few knickknacks that are here are small and fragile—nothing that could be used to defend myself or my husband.

  I need something heavy. Something…

  My gaze falls to the bookshelf again. I grab a tote bag from the closet and choose the three largest volumes I have—a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a large atlas. All the books are roughly the same size, and I shove them inside. I may not be very physically strong, but I can swing a bag of books if I need to protect myself.

  I grab my and William’s passports and tuck them inside my bra then go to the desk and find a small flashlight, stuffing it into my pocket. The only way this is going to work is if no one suspects me of anything. Carrying the tote over my arm, I go to my door and peek outside.

  There’s no one outside, at least no one I can see. Perhaps all the guardsmen are too busy planning the attack on the mines between Rosvalia and Montovia to care about keeping the princess locked in her room. But it’s all the better. The nearest entrance to the secret passageways is near the entrance to the southern wing of the palace.

  I walk quickly in that direction. It’s only a few moments before Reginald comes out of wherever it is he’s been hiding to walk beside me.

  My heart sinks to my toes. I should have known this was never going to work—that I’d be trapped here forever, my children stolen from me again. But I’ll do what I have to, even if it means clocking my brother across the back of the head to get to where I need to go.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” He laughs. “You know your husband is in the dungeon, right?”

  “Go to hell, Reginald.” I don’t even do him the honor of making eye contact.

  “I believe we both might agree we are already in hell, Sister.” He walks alongside me for a few more strides. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  I stop, turning to him. “I thought I’d go to the aviary to read. Is that a crime now?”

  He purses his lips, turning his gaze upward for a moment. “No, I don’t recall Father saying your stupid aviary was off limits to you.”

  “Good.” I begin walking again.

  He catches up to me again in a few strides. “Perhaps while you’re there, you can think about the…choices you’ve made. And why they hurt our country.”

  I roll my eyes. “If you’re going to cast stones, Brother, I suppose I should ask you what might have happened if you’d—”

  “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you and that Montovian filth.”

  “Ah. And the Lady Clarissa…” I glance over at him. “You put your cock in that filth. Imagine what would have happened if you’d impregnated her, Reginald. Imagine the dishonor you would have brought to our country.”

  A glance over at him tells me I’ve probably gone too far—his one good hand is balled into a fist at his side, and something tells me he wouldn’t hesitate to use it on me, even if I am his sister.

  His voice is nearly a growl. “If that had happened, it would have been dealt with the same way we’ll deal with you.” He laughs. “It isn’t as though it’s very hard, is it? Erasing the evidence of your mistakes?”

  It’s like he’s punched me in the chest, and it takes me a second to be able to breathe again. It’s all so easy for Reginald and my father. Even though the child they stole from me was their family, they don’t see it that way. And I’m not going to let it happen again.

  I’m prepared to die first.

  I shove the emotions down, much as I’ve always done, and continue on my way to the southern wing.

  We finally reach the aviary, and much as I’d love to sit and read or write tonight, that was never my plan. I look up at Reginald. “Are you planning to join me?” I motion to the aviary. “I know how much you love it in there.”

  He sneers at me, looking momentarily at the glass doors. “I hope a bird shits right in your filthy mouth, Sister.”

  I give him a plastic smile. “Does that mean you won’t be joining me?”

  He snorts. “I’d sooner die. Besides…” His sneer turns to a knowing grin. “I need to go over the plans with Father.” His smile widens. “It’s not going to be long at all, Sister, and you’re precious Montovia will be ruined forever. Just like Rosvalia.”

  I try to keep any expression from my face, but it’s difficult. “That’s unfortunate.”

  “Ha! Unfortunate?” He laughs. “I can’t wait to see what you say when it’s over. I can’t wait to see what your sorry excuse for a husband says. Father’s plan is ingenious.” He nods eagerly. “And his plan is all going to be worth it—every bit of the shit Father has had to put up with from Montovia.”

  “And that includes Lady Clarissa?”

  “Ha, that bitch? She has it coming to her, too.”

  I wonder what happened between them that he now seems to hate her as much as he hates William and his family? “Well, it sounds like you have everything planned. Don’t let me be the one to stop you.” I wave him away as I walk to the glass door of the aviary. “Now, if you could afford me a few hours of peace with my books, I would appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, enjoy your last few hours of motherhood.” He gives another wry laugh. “Father said that this time, he’s going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He lifts a brow. “You know. A permanent solution. He should have done that last time he had the opportunity.”

  The burning sensation in my chest returns, but I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. I should say something to defend myself, but I don’t want Reginald staying by my side to guard me all night. “It’s unfortunate that it’s come to this.”

  “Well, if you’d learn to keep your legs together, you wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences.”

  I motion again to the aviary. “I suppose I’ll ponder that suggestion with my birds.”

  “Fuck your birds.” He rolls his eyes. “I need to go check in with Father. Tell him you’re not suicidal.”

  Ah, that’s what this was about… “That sounds like an excellent plan, Brother.”

  He sneers at me again before he spins on his heel and walks away.

  I watch him until he turns a corner, and I hurry down the hall. There’s no one here—there usually isn’t unless we’re housing dignitaries.

  I make my way to the third room on the left side of the corridor. I switch on the light—this is a small conservatory, and no one would ever suspect the secret it holds by looking at it. I’m not even certain my parents know—it was only by chance that I found it myself as a child during a game of hid
e and seek with my brother.

  I walk to the closet and push aside one of the stones on the side of the back wall. As I expected, a small opening appears—smaller than I remember.

  I take out the small flashlight, holding it in my teeth, dragging the full tote bag behind me as I get on my hands and knees and crawl. It’s at least several dozen meters before I reach the larger opening and am able to stand again.

  This is the way to the dungeon. And this is the way to my freedom.

  William

  They’ve given me a blanket for the night. Part of me is pleasantly surprised that they care enough provide any sort of comfort to their poor prisoner, but another part of me suspects they simply wanted to give me fewer chances to complain about their treatment of me by the time I’m released—because they have to be planning to release me at some point. Keeping me here would be grounds for war—if my father knew I were in this cell, I know he’d have already sent the Montovian army after me.

  But maybe that’s exactly what they want—a full-on war. I’ve been replaying Reginald’s words in my head all evening, trying to figure out what he and his father have planned, but it’s no use. Whatever it is, though, my stomach is sick just imagining it.

  And that’s not even considering Justine… Her safety is still my top priority. I should have told her not to come here tonight, should have told her to get away from this blasted country as soon as possible. My family would have protected her. But it’s too late for that now.

  I roll over on the stone bench, wincing at how uncomfortable it is. I’d take that rock-hard sofa in my shared suite with Justine any day over this. The blanket isn’t long enough to even cover my feet.

  It’s not like I was going to sleep tonight anyway, I remind myself. Who cares if I can’t get comfortable?

  They dimmed the lights slightly an hour ago. It’s probably just a sad attempt to knock me out for a few hours—if I’m asleep, the guard outside my door won’t have to hear my jokes about his stupid helmet—but it’s not going to work. I have to admit, though, that the darker lighting definitely has the effect of making my prison more stereotypically dungeon-y. I might be creeped out if I weren’t so bored, uncomfortable, and worried for my wife’s safety.

  I hate being stuck here like this, unable to do anything. I itch to take action, to protect my wife and save Montovia and teach Reginald and his father a lesson or two.

  But all I can do is wait.

  I lie still for what feels like ages. Time passes so slowly here, without a watch and without anything to do. I finished my scratched-out love letter on the wall two hours ago: William + Justine Forever. If nothing happens soon, maybe I’ll start another—this one can say, Montovia was here. Or maybe, Prince Reginald has a big nose and a tiny penis.

  But entertaining myself with these thoughts doesn’t alleviate my worries for Justine. She didn’t tell me when she planned to get here, or how she planned to get past the guard outside. And that’s assuming her plans to use the secret passages aren’t foiled by her father or brother—I know all too well that the walls in this palace have eyes.

  I hope Julian is all right, too. I’m grateful for the boy’s help, but I’d hate to have him suffer on our account. I can only hope that he continues to act with discretion and intelligence.

  I roll over again, biting back a grunt at the stiffness in my shoulder. I’m going to be aching for days after this. As I’m cursing to myself, though, I hear something further down the dungeon.

  My guard hears it, too.

  “Who’s there?” he growls.

  I hear a couple of footsteps. Then a voice I know all too well.

  “It’s only me,” comes Justine’s voice. “I’ve just come to wish my husband goodnight.”

  “I’m under strict orders not to let anyone see the prisoner, Your Highness,” my guard says stiffly. “And that includes you.”

  “Are you sure you can’t make an exception?” she says sweetly, closer now. “Just this once?”

  The man does not sound the least bit moved. “My orders include you, Your Highness. In fact, I was explicitly told you were not allowed to see him. I will have to inform your father of this.”

  “That’s too bad,” Justine says. She’s just outside now. “Are you sure?”

  The guard is clearly starting to lose his patience. “I’m under strict orders, Your Highness, and if you will not obey them—”

  His words are cut off by a thick, dull thunk. Followed by the sound of the guard falling to the floor. I’m up in an instant, darting over to the door and peering through the bars.

  My wife is standing over the unconscious guard, a heavy-looking tote bag in her hand.

  “Did you swing that thing at his head?” I ask.

  She looks up at me, and to my amusement, she appears to be completely stunned by what she’s just done.

  “I didn’t think that would work,” she says. “It’s just the biggest books I could find in the suite. But I didn’t have anything else to use.” She frowns. “It might not have worked if he’d been wearing his helmet. Why did he take it off?”

  “Those things look wildly uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that they’re hideous—I took great pride in reminding him of that multiple times today.” I grin. “Perhaps my teasing did the trick.”

  Justine shakes her head, but I notice the hint of a smile on her lips as she crouches down next to the guard. “He’s just unconscious. We might not have much time.” She fumbles around his uniform until she finds his keys, then turns back to the door.

  I grin at her as she starts on the locks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in all my life.”

  She doesn’t respond, but I can see her blush, even in the dim light.

  “We’re doing this wrong, though, aren’t we?” I say. “Isn’t the prince supposed to rescue the princess?”

  Her eyebrow goes up. “Do you want my help or not?” But that smile is still on her lips. “I, for one, prefer it when the princess has some agency.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t agree more.”

  A moment later, she has all three locks undone, and she pulls open the door. The moment I’m free, I catch her up in my arms and pull her toward me, kissing her deeply. We haven’t even been apart for twenty-four hours, but it feels like years.

  She seems to be feeling something similar. Her arms go around my neck as if she can’t bear to let me go. After a moment, though, I break the kiss.

  “You’re unharmed?” I say, desperately needing to know. “Our children—”

  “Neither my father nor Reginald has laid a hand on me or the babies,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

  “Lead the way.”

  “But there’s something else you need to know,” she says. “My father plans to—”

  The guard on the ground groans. He’s coming to.

  “Quick,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the length of the dungeon. “We have to get out of here before he raises the alarm.”

  She tugs me down the corridor to a cell on the end, then leads me inside. There’s a small opening in the wall—so small I’m not sure I’ll even be able to fit through.

  “It gets roomier,” she tells me, apparently reading my thoughts. “Go on—I need to close the hidden door behind us or they’ll be right on our heels.”

  I do as she says. It is a tight fit for me, especially around my shoulders, but I manage to crawl into the passage. A moment later, Justine follows, and she slides the door shut behind her, leaving us in complete darkness.

  “Here.” I hear the jingle of something, then a moment later a small flashlight flicks on. “When it widens up ahead, let me get back in the lead. I think I can get us out of here.”

  In spite of the imminent danger, I still find myself grinning. “I always wanted to be in a spy movie.”

  We crawl along the passage a little ways, until it finally opens up into a small chamber. I climb
to my feet and stretch, looking around. There are four other passages off of this tiny room.

  Justine stands up beside me. “That one is where I came from,” she says, nodding to the passage on our immediate left. “That leads back to the southern wing. But I think that one,”—she points to one just across from us—“will lead us to a shed at the back of the grounds. It’s our best route out of here.”

  “Lead the way, Princess,” I say.

  She nods, determination shining in her eyes. Before she can start down the passage, though, I grab her and pull her against me once more. I kiss her quickly but passionately.

  “I love you,” I tell her.

  “I love you, too,” she whispers back.

  And then we head down the passage, hurrying toward our freedom.

  Justine

  We crawl through the depths of the palace for what feels like hours. My shoulders ache from pulling myself through the narrow passageways—I can only imagine what William must feel like. In many places, the small tunnel is simply too narrow, and I’m not sure how he manages to fit himself through.

  But we have little other choice. There would have been no way for us to escape through a normal route—even with my bag full of books, we couldn’t have taken down the entire Royal Guard.

  There’s finally an opening just ahead—I glance behind me to make sure William is still there. I can’t see him very well—the flashlight doesn’t illuminate much.

  He motions with a wave. “Keep going. If we stop now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to start again.”

  I nod, turning back around. The passage seems to narrow even more, but I manage to get through, tumbling onto the ground inside a small room.

  William is not so fortunate. His head is through, but his shoulders seem to be stuck.

  “Go back in. Put your arms out first,” I urge him.

  He does as I say, pulling himself back inside the tunnel for a moment before reemerging with this arms over his head. I grab his hands, pulling at him as he uses his legs as leverage to get himself out.