Royal Threat

by Michael Pierce

  3

  Byron

  “Bethany is gone,” I told the Queen.

  “And Dr. Sosin is dead,” she said. “What do you want me to do? You have all the resources. I have practically nothing left.” She sank into one of her conference room chairs.

  Bethany had been gone for twenty-four hours. I slept on the couch in her room all night, hoping at some point she’d return, but she didn’t. At some point, I must have drifted to sleep because when I awoke it was light outside. When I found the room still empty, I ventured into Victoria’s room, then returned to my own. All of them were empty.

  “I have secured as many resources from my parents as they could spare. Any more, and Easteria would be left defenseless.”

  “The fighting has subsided.”

  “For now,” I said. “We pushed back their armies temporarily, but they’ll be back in full force before long. And we’ll need reinforcements before that day comes.”

  “If these rebels have control of an unknown quantity of my men, then they will surely get access to Kingdom finances. If I lose that, then there will be nothing left to give your suffering kingdom.”

  “Except our prayers,” I said, then paced around the large circular table in silence. After a full rotation, I stopped, thinking that if we truly were working together now, we needed full transparency. “There’s something else,” I said and cleared my throat.

  The Queen looked up at me expectantly.

  “Before she was taken—before she became Princess Amelia—Victoria discovered the other girls. She found them in the palace’s lower level, perhaps in the very same room where I’d found Dr. Sosin.”

  “What are you talking about? What other girls?”

  “Danielle, Jane, and Eleanor,” I said. “And they weren’t dead.”

  I could tell from the look on the Queen’s face that this was news to her. Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open.

  “They were alive… and still within the palace?” she asked.

  “According to Victoria,” I said. “I did not personally see them, but she’d have no reason to lie. She said they were under some type of trance, which freaked her out.”

  “What makes you think they were in the room you found the doctor in?”

  “The room had a lot of medical equipment and three empty beds. I realize that could be coincidence, but maybe not. It seemed right.”

  “And perhaps that’s why he was killed,” the Queen said.

  “You think one of them killed him?”

  “If they were still alive as you say. It was my understanding that their bodies were disposed of after the Choosing Ceremony—though I didn’t personally oversee it.”

  “I thought they were dead,” I said.

  “As did I—and I’m sorry if that’s insensitive, but we should be past all that now.”

  I shrugged. “A lot has changed since that night.”

  “And a lot is still changing,” the Queen said, ominously. “Dr. Sosin was one of the first doctors I’d spoken to. He was the first to introduce the idea of cloning as a viable option for Princess Amelia. He never spoke of them as experiments, but real people. He was the one who gave me hope that things could and would work out. He had an important hand in raising the girls—all of them. Despite how badly things have gone as of late, none of this would have been possible without him. The woman you love would not be alive today.”

  “Though I don’t share the same love and admiration for your doctors as you do, I can certainly appreciate that.” I paused, taking a seat across from her. “My men are just about finished with their sweep of the two lower levels. They are looking for the three missing girls as well. I know it wouldn’t be ideal to have them openly roaming the streets with the information that’s been released to the public, but we’ve found no trace of them.”

  “If they were really there in the first place,” the Queen said dismissively. “But by all means, continue to look for them. If they are out there, I want them returned quietly.

  “I think Janelle did a good job of downplaying the released files and denying the existence of princess clones, along with your plot to replace Amelia. Of course, not everyone will believe it, but the palace’s official statement has created ample doubt.”

  “Yes; that it was old doctored footage,” I said. “But if the crowd gathering outside the palace walls grows violent?”

  “Then I’ll instruct you to disperse them as an active threat to the crown. We’ll indulge them as long as their protests remain civil.”

  “Someone always comes to stir the pot,” I said.

  “And that person or persons will be the scapegoat for our swift and severe retaliation.” The Queen smiled at this. “I will be tolerant and merciful until I can’t.” Then she was quiet for a moment, seemingly contemplating how much or how little to inform me. “There is one more place to check before leaving the lower levels—a third Sub-level.”

  “A third?”

  “And this is something I want you to check personally. Very few people know it exists. It’s not on any of the palace plans.”

  “Then how would the girls have found it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but it’s worth a quick check and I can tell you how to get there. Dr. Sosin knew, as well as Duke Mackenzie.”

  “Why would you trust Mackenzie with such sensitive information?”

  “I trusted Duke Mackenzie with a great many things… and now I see I was foolish to have done so… and it may ultimately be my undoing. It’s an unlikely place to hide, but we’d be able to cross it off our lists.”

  I agreed to personally do a sweep of Sub-level Three. The Queen assured me it wasn’t very large. I wasn’t about to go alone, not knowing what I’d find down there, so I brought Pax with me. There was only a short hallway and a towering, vaulted door that looked like it would withstand a nuclear attack, which I believed was the intent. It was the royal bunker. The Queen was the only one with access and she did not give me the code. So, our sweep consisted merely of the short hallway, which was empty.

  It seemed all the girls had vanished.

  4

  Victoria

  I had to get out of there before Prince Byron came to attempt a rescue. I didn’t want the same fate to befall him as the new Duke and Duchess of the 24th Ward. Master Ramsey had slaughtered them like animals and presumably buried them somewhere on the expansive grounds. A part of me feared their bodies might be rotting in the cellar. I sure hoped that wasn’t the case; I could barely sleep as it was.

  Master Ramsey had the perimeter of the estate wired, so my electronic collar wouldn’t allow me to pass the threshold of any exterior doorway without my body dropping to the ground in excruciating convulsions. Twice was enough to know every exit was off limits, including the stairway to the upper floors. Master Ramsey could sleep soundly in his bed, comforted by the fact I couldn’t kill him in his sleep—that was, if I was able to escape my locked room in the night. The doorway at the top of the cellar stairs was also locked at night, so there were multiple defenses against me.

  The only time the collar came off was for showering, which had only been once so far during my last two days of confinement. And I was not given the luxury and privacy to shower alone. Master Ramsey removed the locked collar and handed me a bar of soap, then watched from the far side of the bathroom. The water was cold, but it soothed the welts, bruises, and cuts that marred my body. I never begged—no matter how much he tried to physically coax it out of me. Even though I was allowed to keep the curtain closed while I washed, Master Ramsey held the towel and made me exit the shower to retrieve it. Once I was dry, I was instructed to turn and lift my hair. He fastened the electric collar to my neck like a fancy choker. Only then, did he allow me to dress and didn’t leave until I was finished.

  On the surface, my situation seemed hopeless, but I refused to give up hope just as I refused to beg. I did as I was told and kept my eyes open. He would forget something at some point. He’d get d
runk and sloppy, and I had to be ready when an opportunity presented itself. This had to come before anyone came for me. I couldn’t bear to see Prince Byron or Kale hurt at the hand of this monster.

  I heard a door slam from far away. My insides were burning as I lay, curled up in a ball on my bed. The pain in my gut was so excruciating, I could barely move. The pain of my injuries inflicted upon me by my avenging master was a distant memory.

  Then there was a powerful hand on me, forcing me onto my back.

  “What have you done?!” Master Ramsey’s face was directly in mine. He put a thumb to one of my eyes, opening it wide.

  The face before me was a blur—everything was. For a moment, I had forgotten how I’d come to this ailing condition.

  He slapped my face, hard. “Wake up! What did you do to yourself? What did you take?”

  “I—I don’t know,” I croaked. “I didn’t take anything. Just some leftovers…”

  Master Ramsey left my side and frantically paced the room. He wouldn’t find anything; I could at least remember that much.

  He picked up the empty soup bowl from the floor and gripped it before me like a weapon. “What was in here?” When I didn’t respond, he simply threw the ceramic bowl against the wall. “Dammit, you stupid girl!”

  Then two fingers were shoved down my throat. I gagged as he turned me onto my side and I proceeded to vomit over the side of the bed. The vomit splattered on the concrete floor.

  “Was it worth it?” he yelled as I tried to catch my breath in between heaves. “I didn’t give you permission to die—not yet.”

  I was only allowed a few recovery breaths before his fingers were down my throat again, deliberately forcing everything out of my stomach. My throat burned like someone had struck a match the entire length of my esophagus. I could barely breathe with the vile residue coating the inside of my nose. And the sickly smell now consuming the whole room made me continue to dry heave, since there was no longer anything else to expel.

  There was another crack of a palm across my cheek, then he wiped his hand with my hair. “This is very disappointing,” was all he said before I heard his heavy footsteps leave the room.

  I rested my head on the edge of the bed, catching my breath. I spat onto the floor, then wiped my watering eyes.

  As quickly as he had gone, Master Ramsey returned with a bucket of water and a towel. Before I had a chance to react, he dumped the bucket of cold water over my head, soaking half the bed, and diluting the puddle of vomit on the floor. My whole body convulsed from the cold; the air was completely sucked out of me. Then I felt the electric currents zipping through my neck and into my head like a thunderstorm as the collar sizzled. The lightning reached the tips of my fingers, which curled and twitched involuntarily.

  “Shit,” Master Ramsey said as he climbed onto the bed, straddled my back, and fumbled with his keys to unlock and remove the collar. He left the folded towel on the wet mattress. “I’ll make my own dinner tonight, but I’ll expect you back in the kitchen tomorrow. You brought this upon yourself.”

  I let out a long sigh as the door closed and Master Ramsey locked it from the outside. My whole body ached, my stomach and throat burned, and the room smelled wretched—but at least I’d be left alone for the night. I’d also be able to sleep without the bulky collar, which was an unexpected and wonderful treat.

  I glanced up at the camera mounted above the door. Like many of the other cameras, it was new. I wondered if he recorded our sessions in here to replay for his sadistic pleasure. Then my eyes dropped to the cracked indentation in the wall where the doorknob continually collided with the drywall.

  I painfully pushed up to a seated position, then attempted to stand. After a short rest of sitting on the edge of the bed, I shuffled to the closed door, now out of view of the camera. I found the small piece of thread wedged between the cracks in the drywall, freed it, and gave a small tug to see if the contents on the other end were still connected. The orange thread had come from a loose strand of the dress I’d worn on the day of the Foundation Day celebration, which now felt like a lifetime ago.

  I pulled at the thread until I could see the salt shaker it was tied to, behind the cracks in the drywall. Carefully, I removed it through the small hole and examined its contents. It no longer contained much salt—now mostly a concoction of powdered detergents and cleaning agents. No doubt anything I’d found in the cellar for cleaning was now confiscated, so this small salt shaker was all I had left. Hopefully, it would be enough.

  I carefully slipped the small glass bottle into the wall, lowered it, secured the last inch of string in the drywall cracks for safe keeping, and hobbled back to bed so I could sleep off the rest of the sickness.

  5

  Byron

  “Kale, please tell me you have some good news,” I said, pacing my room, ready to go after Victoria myself.

  “Gabriel is staked out at Mackenzie’s compound and I’m currently tailing Ramsey. He just came from there. Victoria may be at Mackenzie’s, but I’m betting Ramsey has her stashed away somewhere else. I should know soon enough. Hold tight. I’ll let you know as soon as I know more.”

  After all we’d been through, I really did respect Kale, and was even starting to like him. It was a hard thing to admit, especially in thinking about his father. I was confident he didn’t know who his father really was. I mean, he knew his father had power and allies in the palace, but he didn’t know where that power truly stemmed from. Telling him now would only put him in additional danger, something none of us needed.

  “Okay,” I said. “I think we’re nearly secure here, then I’ll be requesting leave to join you.”

  “The Queen will really allow you to join me?”

  “I’ll omit you from my request in retrieving Victoria.”

  Kale laughed. “Of course.”

  “Be safe,” I said. “We seem to be surrounded by enemies.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by enemies. This is just another mission, just one not sanctioned by my father.”

  “Don’t be a hero.” Since Kale didn’t know his father’s secret, he didn’t know his own relation to Victoria. They may not be related by blood, but they were practically family, something Victoria was severely lacking in her life.

  “I’m a survivor, not a hero,” he replied, his words shrouded by static. “You’re cutting in and out. I’ll call you soon, Hopefully, with something definitive.”

  Not wanting to waste any more time, I rushed downstairs to check on the status of the palace cleansing. The front door was open as a messenger drone flew in and I could hear the din of protestors from outside. It sounded louder—either the crowd was getting rowdier or it was growing. Both were escalating problems.

  I continued down to Sub-level One, where the interrogation and detention rooms were located. The detention rooms were nearly full of palace soldiers and staff—now reduced to standing room only. The palace wasn’t designed to hold so many offenders. Luckily, I was confident we were nearing the end of our investigation.

  I peered into the first interrogation room and found it empty, so moved on to the second. In that room, I found two of my soldiers who’d recently arrived from Easteria questioning a young maid, now in tears. I didn’t know her, but she looked similar enough to someone I was familiar with to guess who she was.

  “I swear to you, I don’t know anything!” she cried. “I only just started working here, by order of the Queen. You can speak to her if you don’t believe me.”

  “It would stand to reason that you’d be more loyal to your family than the crown—a family we know is allied to the rebels.”

  “And what family would that be?” I asked, walking further into the room.

  “The Ramseys, Your Highness,” Grant said.

  “Which would make you Johanna Ramsey,” I said, facing the blonde girl with a stern expression.

  “I am, Your Majesty,” Johanna said, wiping her tears and sitting up straighter in her chair. “
I’ve taken no part in anything that’s recently happened. I have no insider information and have no alliance with my father.”

  “Do you know that Victoria has been taken?” I asked. “She’s probably back with your father right now. Do you know where that might be?”

  “I couldn’t say,” she said, her lower lip quivering. “The Queen took our estate in the 24th, but we have several smaller properties around the kingdom. I don’t know if any of them were confiscated as well. I was forced here when we lost our estate. I’ve not been in contact with any of my family since.”

  “You didn’t speak to Victoria since you were brought here?”

  Johanna shook her head. She looked like she was about to say more, but stopped herself.

  “She’s not a threat,” I said, turning to my soldiers.

  “But, Your Highness,” Grant started. “The Ramseys have had a role in this. They’re aligned with the Mackenzies and the Outland rebels. She could be coerced.”

  “Trust me; she’s not,” I said. “She could actually be a great help to us.” I turned back to Johanna. “I need addresses of all your other properties. Also, any names of friends of your father, whom you’ve met or heard mentioned over the years. You will help me get Victoria back. Then perhaps we can talk about your position here.”

  Her tears had stopped and she attempted a smile. “Absolutely, Your Highness. I’ll tell you everything I can remember.”

  My phone began buzzing in my pocket. “Very good. Thank you, Johanna. I appreciate your cooperation. Grant, bring me the list when it’s complete, then allow her to get back to her duties.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Grant said and nodded to the assisting soldier.

  I fished the phone out of my pocket and brought it to my ear as I exited the room. “Yes.”