by Renna Peak
I feel as though I’ve been punched in my stomach. Milbrecht lied to us—I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by that, but I’m still horrified. Regardless of the effects on me, my unborn children might have been exposed to some unknown toxin. I’m not sure I’ll be able to forgive myself if anything should happen.
“That is a huge amount of productive farm land.” William stares at me, rubbing at his jaw. “But I want you to make the priority finding out what effects the weapon will have on humans. That is the main concern of Montovia.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. You know, what Milbrecht did…what Rosvalia did… No one’s going to stand for it. The news is going to break on this, if it hasn’t already. People are going to be concerned about travel and Montovian imports. They really did a number on your country.”
“I’m aware.” William shakes his head, rubbing again at his jaw. “Is there some test you might perform?”
“I’ll see what I can find out—see if anyone has any ideas about how to test for human exposure.”
“Good. I—”
“I kind of have to go. The phone’s been ringing off the hook. And the journalists haven’t even started calling yet.”
“Of course,” I reply. “Thank you so much for your work on this matter. I…We really appreciate it.” And I do appreciate it, even if his news might mean William, my children, are at risk for some unknown side effect.
I press the button to turn off the speaker before spinning to face my husband. “William, I know you’re concerned—”
“I am. Very.”
I nod. “I know. As am I. But the small number of people exposed are not of consequence right now. What is of consequence—”
“You were exposed. Our children were exposed. That makes it by far the most important thing to me.” He pulls my hand into his. “Don’t you see? If your father so much as harmed a hair on your head, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I interrupt. “Murder him? It seems a bit late for that, William.” I pull my hand away. “The entire country of Rosvalia is at stake at the moment. My country cannot afford, nor can it tolerate a war.”
“I understand that. I’m doing everything I can to avoid it—”
“The only thing that will avoid a war at the moment is getting my brother to abdicate, even if it is only to give the throne to my father’s cousin. And we’re running out of time—”
“I know.” He frowns, pulling my hand into his once more. “I only say these things because I love you. I love you all.”
“And I love you. But losing focus from the issue at hand is not going to help us.” My eyes widen, and a small smile finds its way to my lips. “There’s only one thing at the moment that actually might help us.”
“And what is that?”
“My brother’s vanity. If it’s like David said—if the entire world is now watching this story unfold—we have to make use of it. We have to get them to talk about nothing but my brother and the bumbling mistakes he’s already made. If my brother thinks he looks bad, it might just be enough to crack him.”
William
It’s such a brilliant idea that I’m amazed we didn’t have it sooner—I should have known that trying to reason with Reginald would never work. Same with fighting him. Reginald has never been motivated by logic or by getting his ass kicked.
“Don’t you have a future sister-in-law who works for a tabloid?” Justine asks. “Or at least used to work for one?”
“Yeah,” I say, getting excited. “Victoria would definitely help us. I’ll call her right now.”
I pull out my mobile phone, then pause. Making this call will open up an entirely new can of worms—something we’re going to have to be prepared to face. What if we just make everything worse? Reginald is a loose cannon, at times completely unpredictable. On the other hand, at times he’s the most predictable person I’ve ever met. He won’t sit quietly by when his pride is attacked.
Justine gives me an encouraging look, and I nod and make the call.
I keep it brief, even though I can tell Victoria wants me to tell her more, I know that anything I say will be passed on to Andrew, who’ll in turn pass it on to my father, who’ll probably decide the entire thing is an exercise in futility and order me back home. I understand my father’s point of view—his priority is Montovia and Montovia alone—but the moment I tied my fate to Justine’s, Rosvalia took part of my heart, too. I’ll do everything I can to help my wife stop this war.
“One more thing,” I tell Victoria once she’s agreed to my plan. “Tell Andrew that we have some of the finest scientists in the world working on investigating the weapon Maximilian used on the mines.”
When it’s done, I turn back to Justine. She’s leaning against her desk, her eyes closed. Morning sunlight is streaming through the window, and all I want to do is carry her off to bed to sleep for three days straight. But there’s no time for that. Tonight, unless we manage to stop it, Reginald will become king, and then the destruction of Rosvalia will be inevitable.
Still, I let Justine rest for a moment. I imagine she’s even more exhausted than I am, given her condition. Not for the first time, I wish I could protect her from all of this, but it’s too late for that now.
After a moment, she seems to sense me watching her. Her eyes open slowly, but the exhaustion is still clear on her face. My heart aches for her.
“You know,” I say, “if you wanted to nap for an hour or two…”
She shakes her head. “There’s no time to sleep. Not today.” She pushes herself away from the desk, straightening, but she only makes it a step before she abruptly stops, her face twisting.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
She starts to answer, then claps a hand over her mouth. Without a word, she darts past me and sprints into the bathroom right off her office. She only just makes it to the toilet before she starts retching.
I grab her hair and pull it away from her face. After a few moments, she sits up. Her complexion is slightly yellow, and it makes the dark circles beneath her eyes stand out even further. My entire body hurts as I look down at her. Is this it? Has the poison finally started to take effect? I never thought I’d know fear as intense as what I’m feeling right now.
“I…I think that’s it,” she says. “There’s not much else to come up.”
Gently, I help her to her feet, then reach over and grab a towel from the wall. As she washes up, I wet the towel and hand it to her. She still looks as if she might keel over again any second—I’ve never seen her look so ill. She pats down her face with the towel and looks up at me.
“I’m fine,” she says. “You don’t need to look so worried.”
“How can I not worry?” My stomach is twisting and knotting just looking at her. “How?”
“I’m pregnant. You’re just going to have to get used to me not feeling great all of the time.” She presses the towel against the side of her throat. “With everything that’s been going on these past couple of days, I think I’m a little sicker than normal. It’s no big deal.”
“But what if it’s more than that? What if…” I don’t want to finish that sentence. I don’t even want to utter the possibility out loud.
She levels her gaze at me. “It’s just morning sickness. That’s all.”
I want to believe her. But the protective side of me—the side that would die if anything ever happened to her—can’t just ignore the other possibilities.
“You need to rest,” I tell her. “Even if it’s just for an hour.”
She shakes her head. “No. Every moment counts now. We can’t waste even an hour.”
“Resting isn’t a waste of an hour, not for you,” I argue. “Not when you’re carrying our children.”
Her jaw tightens, the way it always does when she’s about to dig in her heels. “And as I told you before, that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly weak and breakable.”
“It also doesn’t mean you can go three days straight without
sleep.”
“I’ll sleep when this is over.” She raises her chin. “This is my country, and I’m not going to sleep when the lives of my people are at stake. I’m not going to sleep until I know whether or not we’re going to be at war.”
I frown. If she’s not going to go to bed willingly, then I’ll just have to carry her there. But the moment I reach toward her, she bats my arm away.
“Don’t even think about it,” she says. “I’m not going anywhere.” She squares her shoulders. “In fact, I think we should order some breakfast and see what else we can do to dissuade my brother from destroying us all.”
“Justine—”
“It’s settled,” she says, sweeping past me, back into the office.
With a sigh, I turn and follow her. I don’t like this one bit. She needs rest. If the poison has affected her, until we know how to counteract any effects, she needs to be doing everything in her power to help her body fight it. That means getting enough rest.
But God help me if I cross this woman. And if I know Justine, the harder I push her to go to bed, the more she’ll resist. No, my best hope is to wait and hope she drifts off on her own. She’s already dead on her feet—maybe if I encourage her to sit, she’ll fall asleep in the chair.
When I enter the office, Justine is at the door to the corridor. It looks like she’s already managed to flag down a servant to order breakfast. As she speaks with the woman, I flip through the documents on her desk, wondering what else we could possibly do to stop all of this.
When Justine turns back to me, she doesn’t say anything at first. When I glance up at her, I find her deep in thought.
“That was Lisette,” she tells me after a moment. “She tells me most of the staff are just as worried about Reginald as we are. Her family lives in the city. She says lots of people there are concerned.”
“As well they should be,” I respond.
“She said a few of them were considering staging a formal protest.”
“Is that allowed under Rosvalia law? To protest the monarch?”
“Technically yes, though my father certainly had his ways of suppressing such things.” She crosses over to the desk, her brow still wrinkled in thought. “I think we should support these efforts. Publicly. To show the people we support their bid for peace. To show them that at least one member of the royal family is trying to keep them from war.” Her eyes fall on me, and she reaches out her hand. “Two members of the royal family.”
I take her fingers in mine. “I know Marcell and his wife are on our side. Maybe they can encourage others to action.” I’m liking this idea more and more, but something still bothers me. “What if this backfires? What if these protests just make Reginald angry and want to retaliate?”
“Oh, he’ll be angry,” Justine says. “And he may consider retaliating, but…this is one area where my brother is different from my father. My father wanted absolute power. He ruled Rosvalia with an iron fist, and he was willing to start a war to settle a generations-old dispute. My brother hates Montovia, yes, but he’s never wanted to rule—I mean really rule, with all the responsibilities that come with it. He likes power, but more than anything else, this is about status for him. He thrives on attention, on people knowing how important and wealthy and better than them he is. If he realizes how little people respect him…” She doesn’t have to finish that thought. “For him, being a royal is about having all of his desires and needs met. Maybe if he realizes he’s now responsible for meeting other people’s needs, he’ll realize what he’s getting himself into.”
“All right,” I say. “I’ll go talk to Marcell as soon as we’re done with breakfast.”
“We should go now,” she says. “There’s so little time—”
“No. After breakfast.” Now it’s time for me to put my foot down. “We have a long day ahead of us, and I don’t want either of us collapsing out of hunger and exhaustion.”
She looks like she still wants to argue, but she decides not to. With a nod, she settles down in a chair next to the desk.
Maybe, if we sit here long enough, she’ll fall asleep, I think. Then I’ll sneak off and talk to Marcell on my own, letting her rest for a little while. I still don’t like the color of her cheeks—or the size of the dark circles beneath her eyes—but there’s nothing I can do but wait.
Wait and pray that the worst never happens.
Justine
I know William wants me to sleep—and I would love nothing more than to do just that—but there’s no time.
Our breakfast is served after a few more minutes, but I don’t recognize the woman who’s brought the tray. Lisette told me that most of the staff are not just concerned—many of them have fled the palace altogether. They might have found serving my brother bad enough, but now that our country is facing imminent war, they’ve all gone to be with their families.
And that is where they should be.
I pick at my food. There is nothing more that can be done here—not now. It will be expected of me to attend my brother’s coronation tonight, but I don’t think I can stand to bear witness. He’ll shun me from the country no doubt, and I’m not entirely sure that would be a bad thing. If I didn’t feel such an obligation to my people, I would have already left with William for Montovia.
William is watching me carefully, almost as though he’s trying to will me with his mind power to fall asleep.
“You can’t hypnotize me, you know.” I look up at him finally. “No matter how hard you might try.”
“If only I’d brought my magic wand.” He gives me a small grin. “You really should rest, Justine. Even if only for a little while. You’ve done everything humanly possible—”
“Not everything,” I interrupt. “If I had done everything, my brother would be canceling his coronation. And until that happens—”
“I think…” He pauses, watching me again for a moment. “I think it would be best if you didn’t involve yourself in whatever else might happen.”
“You’re up to something.” I narrow my gaze. “William, if you’re planning to cause any trouble—”
“Not trouble, per se.” His smile widens ever so slightly. “But—”
“William, I will not have you instigating anything. Not now. I wouldn’t be able to rescue you from the dungeon again. Reginald had the secret passage sealed off, remember?”
“I remember.” His smile falls. “I need to do this. I need to do something.”
I take a small bite of the roll I’ve been nibbling at before I stand. “Then we should do something together.”
“I…” He shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Ah. Well, if it’s too dangerous for me, then it is certainly too dangerous for you.” I sigh as I stand up. “William, when are you going to learn that I am not some fragile, weak—”
“It isn’t that.” He walks over and pulls my hand into his. “Believe me, any thoughts I might have had about you being weak were lost when I saw you clock that guard in the head with your dictionary. That is not a term I would ever use to describe you.”
“Good. In that case, you should take me with you when you go out—”
“I might not call you fragile, but I definitely would say you’re taking far too many risks for my liking. Please…please just stay here and rest. Trust me to help you.”
“I do trust you to help me. It’s why I asked you to call your brother. It’s why you’re here with me now. William, I know you’re trying to do what you think is best, but I need you to remember that these are my people—”
“They’re my people, too.” His brow furrows. “I worked beside them for weeks. I’ve come to think of them as my own countrymen. I know you don’t think me as committed to them—”
“It isn’t that at all.” I squeeze his hand. “You’ve served this country better than most of my family ever has. And I’ll never forget that. And neither will they. And I understand why you think this is too dangerous for me. I do, but I’m still going
to do this. I’m just as capable at causing civil unrest as anyone else. And it’s been simmering under the surface for many of the citizens for years.”
“But that’s just it,” he says. “These things tend to escalate quickly. I’ve seen riots—”
“You’ve seen riots?” I tilt my head, almost smiling. “When would you have ever seen riots?”
A flush creeps into his cheeks. “In my military training. We had exercises—”
“My people aren’t going to riot, William. But if they do, we can worry about it then.”
He shakes his head, pulling me into his arms. “I am never going to agree with you putting yourself in harm’s way. Never. But I understand why you need to be with your people now.” He pulls away after a moment, nodding. “I need to go and speak with Marcell.”
“And to thank him again for our rescue.”
“Yes, and that, too.”
“Then we can walk together. Lisette said that many of the townspeople are meeting in the Hall—the one where we went to the harvest festival. I feel like I should listen to their concerns. Bring those concerns back to Reginald if I can.”
“Good. Yes, that’s good.” He nods, almost to himself. “You’ll be safe there—”
“It has nothing to do with me being safe. It has to do with hearing the needs of my citizens.”
“Of course.” He’s looking at me, but I can see his mind is somewhere else. “I’ll walk you there. But the men we brought from Montovia will stay with you the entire time.”
“No. Two stay with me. Two stay with you.”
He nods again, but I can see he isn’t really listening. “Yes. Yes, this is all going to be fine.”
“Good. Then walk with me to the Hall. It’s on the way to your friend’s house, is it not?”
His eyes are still glazed in thought, but he nods even though it’s clear he hasn’t heard a word I’ve said. “Yes. Yes.”