The Royal Beauty

by V Vee

  “Fireworks, man,” Alfie reiterated.

  “So, this is about the nanny,” Andreas muttered.

  Alastair nodded. “To a certain degree.” He shook his head. “Leyah was terrified. Her entire body was shaking. It was as if she were reliving some horrible experience. And I know, I’m not as experienced as the rest of you when it comes to guns and the sounds of battle and war, but I know more than I’m given credit for. Someone somewhere was shooting at the exact same time you were all distracted by the fireworks. Only those of us in the library were close enough to hear it, and the sounds of fighting, and the screams, but we heard it.” He looked over at Augustus who was nodding along with him.

  “I think we were attacked, and we didn’t even know it, because the person or people who did it, went after employees that we don’t personally know, or aren’t aware of.” When none of his brothers responded, all of them looking pensive and contemplative, he continued. “Which makes me wonder, if these people haven’t just switched roles with our guards.”

  Algerone’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Alastair nodded. “It would be… maybe not easy, but not exactly difficult for someone who was determined to take the place of one of our guards.” He indicated the screen behind him, where the missing guards’ posts were circled. “They would be able to blend in almost seamlessly and we would never be aware of it, until it was too late.”

  Algerone leaned forward. “So, you’re saying we could have imposters, men bent on doing harm to me and mine, here in the castle?”

  Alastair shrugged. “I’m saying that it’s possible.”

  “Likely,” Augustus interjected.

  Algerone blew out a breath. “So, how do we find out for sure?” he asked.

  Alastair shook his head. “We don’t know what all of the guards actually look like, or even enough about them to suss them out ourselves. And if we’re honest, Kothrar and Kuthrar wouldn’t even know anyone outside of our family, and their immediate guards, if it weren’t for us.” He sighed. “We’re going to need help.”

  “From whom?” Andreas asked.

  Alastair shrugged. “I was thinking Danorian.” His stomach turned at the thought of asking the man who was so… close to Leyah for help, but Danorian had been with the family for decades. He’d spent time on the palace grounds, out in Malvidence as law enforcement, according to his records, before finally being assigned to royal family detail inside the palace five years earlier. Danorian knew everyone. He knew about all of the rebellious and contentious factions both within and outside the country. The man was completely loyal to them all.

  If they were going to get to the bottom of this. They needed Danorian’s help. Alastair would just have to put his own distrust and jealousy of the man in regard to Leyah aside.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Algerone said with a nod.

  “I will make… private inquiries as well,” Andreas remarked with a slow grin.

  Alfie shook his head. “Solqiz fylqypt.”

  Alastair had to agree. Andreas was a “crazy bastard.”

  “Okay, we’ll get Danorian to look into things and let us know what’s going on, but we’ll be on alert as well. This is my wife and kids, I don’t care how much we trust someone, I’m not going to trust their safety to anyone outside of the five of us.”

  Alastair nodded, agreeing. While Leyah wasn’t his wife—yet, his traitorous subconscious supplied—he didn’t trust anyone to protect her better than himself. A grin spread across his face. And in order to keep her safe, he’d have to be around her, and extremely close to her body.

  This might be fun.

  Later

  Announcing the arrivals of Their Highnesses: Prince Algerone and Princess Valerie. Prince Augustus. Prince Alastair and…” the footman cleared his throat and glanced at Leyah out of the corner of his eyes. Alastair felt himself stiffen in anger. A rage only soothed when Leyah rubbed her along his bicep with her left hand, while her right hand remained holding on.

  “Nanny Leyah,” the footman continued. Alastair heard his younger brothers snickering behind him, and after throwing them a glare over his shoulder he stepped forward to lead Leyah to her seat next to him. He ignored the footman as the man announced his two younger brothers and Alfie’s new girlfriend, who was really his ex-girlfriend, Ramona Poppington.

  Alastair cut his eyes in his youngest brother’s direction and shook his head. He knew the youngest Smythe prince was hurting after Laeticia’s rejection, but Alfie was being stupid. To be honest, Laeticia was as well. The American woman had decided she didn’t want to be seen dating a prince, or to be fodder for the media, and so in her fear she’d fed Alfie a stupid line about wanting them to stay friends. Whereas Ramona was a known gold-digger, only wanting Alfie because of his money. She was just like Lady Taylor, except less conniving and deceitful.

  I’ll need to speak to Augustus later, Alastair thought to himself. His face a stoic mask as he ignored his mother’s disapproving looks in his direction, and his father’s hard glare. I need to see if anything further has taken place with Lady Taylor and figure out if it’s something I need to handle.

  Alastair finally sighed and looked at his mother, then over to his father. Their first course had been served, and he knew his parents expected an explanation before the second one. His brothers ignored the obvious tension at the table and dug heartily into their bowls of soup, but neither Alastair, Leyah, nor his parents picked up their spoons to eat the soup that had been placed in front of them, and Valerie looked back and forth from him, to Leyah, to his parents, even as she delicately took sips of hers.

  “So, Dath, is there something you would like to tell us?” his mother asked him, censure in her tone.

  “Yes, Las, what—or rather, whom—have you brought with you to dinner this evening? She looks remarkably like your brother’s nanny,” his father remarked, lifting his spoon and setting it down gently into his soup.

  “That’s because she is,” Algerone muttered, before returning to his soup.

  Queen Araminta gasped and turned a wide-eyed gaze toward Alastair, then narrowed her eyes at Leyah.

  “Alastair why is one of Al’s nannies having dinner with us?” she asked, her tone mild but a hint of steel layering it.

  “Because in two weeks she won’t simply be the nanny. She will be a princess. My princess. My wife,” he declared, his own tone firm and his gaze steady as he looked at both parents.

  “Isn’t she Waldakanian?” his father asked, a note of disgust evident in his words.

  “Yes,” Alastair answered.

  “No,” Leyah replied at the same time.

  Alastair turned to look at her in surprise. She lifted her chin and stared directly at his father.

  “King Callum, while I would like nothing more than to have your approval and have you like me, I’m afraid I won’t care about either if you cannot speak of my heritage in the proper way. I know you are aware that the proper term is Waldakan. I have heard you use it in interviews and read it in articles about you.” She shook her head. “I am aware that both you and your wife, Queen Araminta are opposed to any type of involvement between Prince Alastair and myself. I can assure you that were my parents still living, they would be in total agreement with you.”

  Alastair frowned as he considered her words. Her parents wouldn’t approve of her being with him? But he was a prince! He was a billionaire. Using the money, he’d inherited at the age of twenty-one, he’d invested it and turned the money into billions, that wasn’t even including the money he’d made from his various businesses and the club. All of which were extremely profitable and million-dollar money makers.

  So why did Leyah think her parents would disapprove of him? As a matter of fact, she didn’t sound as if she were speculating. She sounded as if she knew, her parents would find him wanting. He stared at her intently. In his… rather unorthodox courtship of her, he’d neglected to ask her what her parents’ names were. He would have to do that after
dinner was over.

  “However, the difference between my parents and yourself, is that my parents would never have insulted Prince Alastair at the table, in front of guests, other family members, or those who… served.” Leyah hesitated over the last word, a fact which Alastair found interesting. Had her parents been servants to one of the wealthier society families? It would explain a lot. “They would have simply asked me if I was sure, given Alastair a threatening promise that if he ever hurt me, they would kill him, then they would give us their blessing and help in any way they could. Later, when we were alone, they would share their true feelings about Prince Alastair with me but preface it by saying they trusted my judgement.”

  She shrugged, and it was then that Alastair realized the entire table had grown quiet. “I don’t know. I just assumed the King and Queen of Malvidence would hold themselves to the same level of grace and openness as my parents. Forgive me if I do not meet your standards, but I do not apologize for my heritage, my culture, or my upbringing. Not even my current position in your household.”

  “Go ahead Ley-Ley!” Valerie cheered when Leyah finished. Valerie’s eyes widened, and she curled her lips in, her expression shocked, as if she couldn’t believe she’d just exclaimed out loud.

  Alastair’s father continued staring at Leyah, his eyes never leaving her as he brought his spoon up to his lips and blowing on the already cool soup, then placed it in his mouth, swallowing the liquid. He took another sip of the soup with his spoon, his eyes glancing over at his wife. After long moments of no one at the table speaking, and only his mother and father eating, King Callum finally spoke.

  “No one in this palace, or this kingdom would deign to speak to me in such a way.” He held up his hand when both Alastair and Leyah opened their mouths to respond. “I find that I respect you more for doing so, Leyah.” He nodded. “You have my blessing to see… wed, my son,” he corrected.

  Alastair exhaled and grabbed Leyah’s hand beneath the table.

  “Thank you, Kothrar,” he said softly.

  King Callum inclined his head and snapped his fingers for the next course to be delivered. However, before he could take a bite of the salad set before him, the king clutched his chest and slumped forward.

  Alastair stared at his father in shock even as the sound of screaming pierced his eardrums.

  “He’s dead! Oh my god, someone has killed the king!” Alastair’s mother screamed. “Someone has killed my husband!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Augustus held onto Helen’s hand as they sat out in the sitting room of his parents’ suite. Everyone had gathered to find out what had happened to King Callum. The air in the room was tense and fraught with suspicion. His mother was in the bedroom with the doctor and his father, while Augustus sat with his brothers and their significant others.

  Valerie sat on Algerone’s lap, while Alastair had his arms wrapped tightly around Leyah—who was shaking and crying for some reason. The woman didn’t even know his father, and their introduction to her as Alastair’s future wife was certainly not a welcoming one, and yet she seemed more upset than anyone else.

  “Gus, I’m so sorry about your father,” Helen whispered, rubbing the back of his head.

  He nodded and lifted her hand to kiss the back of it.

  “Thank you, miora ruĝa,” he whispered.

  The room grew still then, and Augustus wasn’t certain, but it almost seemed as if they were all waiting for bad news. To find out that all of the attacks upon the royal family had culminated in the death of the king.

  “I’m not ready to be king,” Algerone admitted into the silence. “He has to pull through.”

  “Your father will survive,” Valerie said, placing a gentle kiss on her husband’s lips. “You can’t think like that.”

  “Exactly,” Alastair said, appearing almost unaffected by the situation, but Augustus knew better. “Kothrar will be fine, you’ll see.”

  “And whomever is responsible will be punished,” Andreas said, before turning to walk out of the room.

  Leyah shivered and Augustus narrowed his eyes in her direction. He would have questioned her, but the door to the bedroom opened, and everyone rose to their feet. Augustus saw his mother’s face, her skin red and splotchy and her eyes red with tears rolling down her cheeks, and his heart dropped.

  No.

  Lady Taylor

  Weeks Later

  Lady Taylor Weshian, who looked as if she were about to drop her baby at any moment, was sitting in the audience while Prince Alastair married the nanny, Leyah Meer. She glared at Helen—who was a bridesmaid—all while rubbing her stomach obviously in an attempt to show her importance to all who saw her. She hadn’t consented to doing a paternity test while she was still pregnant—something which she knew had raised Augustus and his family’s suspicions even more—which was why she had promised she would do so as soon as she gave birth “to Augustus’s heir.”

  That was when he could doctor the paternity test to make sure that Augustus was named as the father. She was aware that the situation had caused even more tension between Augustus and his “lady love”, Helen, but the woman refused to leave this time. That would all change soon.

  He would make sure of it.

  Months later at the reception for Alastair and Leyah—who had reconciled after the woman had been arrested, then freed, and had just given birth to their twin boys—Taylor glared at Helen Warren, the stupid black bitch who had Prince Augustus wrapped around her slender fingers. She let her eyes travel the other woman from head to toe and sneered at what she saw. The cinnamon colored skin, the seductively slanted, light brown eyes, the full lips, small flat nose, her long, black hair that was curled and framed her face. Taylor hated every inch of the other woman. She hated how beautiful she was. How pure and innocent. She hated how nice Helen was. She hated the woman's musical laughter. She hated how Helen wouldn't use profanity no matter how mad she was. Most importantly she hated how trusted the other woman was. No one would question "Miss Warren" if she said she were pregnant. And Taylor couldn't hate her for that any more than she already did.

  She'd already lost Algerone to the first bitch from America: Valerie, then she'd lost Alastair to the fucking Waldakan whore: Leyah, who'd managed to get the self-proclaimed bachelor to marry her after a few months, and now? She could just see Augustus slipping through her fingers to worship at the fucking ebony altar of womanhood.

  So, could anyone blame her for wanting Helen dead, and setting things up so that the "beautiful" woman would meet him and then meet her fatal end?

  No. They could not.

  Besides she wasn't the one murdering Helen. She was simply making an introduction. And once Helen was out of the way, Taylor would have Augustus all to herself.

  She smiled and raised her glass of white wine in Helen’s direction when the woman glanced her way. She knew that Augustus thought she was drinking apple cider, since she was “breastfeeding”, but what the big oaf didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him…

  Or her plans to one day become as she should have always been:

  Princess Taylor Weshian-Smythe, future Queen of Malvidence.

  She just had a few people she had to get out of the way first. She saw him out of the corner of her eye. He had his makeup and prosthetic skin on, allowing him to blend in with the other palace guards. No one would suspect him of the various horrific things that had occurred. And while Princess Aa’Leyah, another black whore who’d married one of the eligible princes of Malvidence, had confessed to her own part of The Rebellion and shut it down as far as her country of Waldakan went, her marriage to Prince Alastair essentially exposing the nefarious actions of Danorian and Persephone, she knew that not even the darling, forgiven “princess” knew all the players or every single plan put into motion.

  Taylor did. And she knew because of him.

  Aa’Leyah didn’t even fully know who he was. No one did.

  No one except Taylor and her father.

  And i
t would stay that way until the perfect moment.

  Lady Taylor smiled and curtsied to King Callum when he came over to dance with her. She ignored the look of pity and scorn in the older man’s face. She knew he looked down on her because she’d gotten pregnant by his son without being married. Knew he was angry because of the whole: “Augustus is the father” thing. But it didn’t matter.

  He would be dead soon.

  They all would be.

  And Taylor would be queen. A position that was hers by right and one she would do anything to have.

  Anything.

  Taylor stepped out of the New Waldakan hospital and stepped around the corner. She was surprised that Augustus had allowed her to come with him and his precious Helen of Troy. She rolled her eyes. Ever since she’d given birth to her daughter, a tiny, pink person with dark hair and blue eyes, Augustus had been overly protective and solicitous to her. He hadn’t wanted to do a DNA test on her, Princess Autumn of Malvidence, when she’d first been born but she knew that her time was coming to an end. He would want her to get Autumn tested sooner rather than later, but if she could produce the results of the paternity test that proved he was the father before he asked for them, then he would be none the wiser.

  Augustus must never know that not only was Autumn not his daughter, but that he’d been way too drunk the night he’d woken up with her naked in his bed, for them to have ever had sex.

  “There you are, Lady Taylor,” he said as he stepped forward.

  Taylor sighed in relief and held out her hand. “Well? Do you have it?” she asked.

  He nodded. He handed her the official medical documentation that had exchanged his name for Prince Augustus’ in the position of “father.” Taylor looked down at it and smiled, her heart returning to its normal, slow beat. It was right there in black and white. “Proof” that Prince Augustus was the father to Autumn Weshian.