Chapter 20
Mirilla rushed through the service hallways to the royal corridor. The moment she stepped into the corridor and started toward the royal residence, four guards stepped into view aiming their weapons at her. “Halt! Stay where you are!” they shouted.
The two closest to her, that were guarding Au’revele’s quarters, rushed her.
Mirilla held her hands up by her shoulders, her palms toward them to indicate that she was not fighting. “It’s just me!”
“We know exactly who you are! All of the Sovereign and the Sovereigna’s security forces are searching for you! Where have you been hiding?!” one of them demanded.
“I wasn’t hiding,” she said.
“No? You weren’t anywhere to be found! Then you thought you were going to slip into the nanny’s quarters again, didn’t you?” another demanded. “Come with us.”
Both males grabbed her, each firmly gripping an arm as they led her to the front door that two more of the Sovereign’s guard protected.
“I don’t understand. I wasn’t trying to slip into anywhere. I came here willingly to try to find the Sovereigna.”
One of the males still guarding the main entrance of the royal residence knocked on the door while the other watched her carefully, as though the two already holding her weren’t sufficient to keep her in hand.
The door opened and the tattooed and pierced, charcoal-skinned male who’d arrived with Sire Zha Quin opened it. He didn’t say a word, he simply stared down at her as one of the two holding her spoke. “We caught her at the opposite end of the corridor. It appeared she was moving toward the nanny’s quarters again. ”
“I was not!” Mirilla insisted.
Ba Re’ looked down at her as he raised a single brow, and took hold of her arm much more firmly than either of the two who already held her steady. He pulled her into the royal residence so forcefully that she stumbled. “I wasn’t trying to sneak anywhere. I was coming to find the Sovereigna,” Mirilla said.
“I don’t care,” Ba Re’ said without a bit of emotion. “We have a visitor,” he announced, pushing her into the room ahead of him.
“Mirilla, where have you been dear? Everyone is looking for you,” Eula said, gracefully rising from her seat.
“I was waiting for you. When I realized how long it had been and you’d not returned, I decided that I’d go in search of you to make sure you’re okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Eula asked.
“Well, everyone has heard about last night. I knew you’d be upset and I wanted to be available for you, as I usually am.”
“So you went to my sitting room to wait for me,” Eula said.
“Yes, Sovereigna.”
“It was very thoughtful of you, and also very apropos,” Eula said.
“Why is everyone searching for me. Why are the warriors treating me as though I did something wrong?” Mirilla asked.
“Didn’t you?” Quin stated, more than asked.
“Well, no. Not intentionally anyway,” she said, rattled and beginning to ramble.
“Not intentionally?” he demanded. “What did you not intentionally do?”
“It’s not as much of an issue as it might have been. I’m sure it will turn up!” Mirilla said worriedly.
“What are you talking about?” Quin half-shouted.
“The passkey. I know it was on my dresser. But then it wasn’t. It’s definitely in my bedroom somewhere.”
“Mirilla, you lost your passkey?” Eula asked.
“Yes. I’ve been using a spare.”
“When did you lose it?” Eula asked .
“Night before last. I put it on my dresser and got into my cleansing chamber. When I got out, it wasn’t there. I know I should have told you, but I’m sure it’s in my rooms.”
“Mirilla, the attack from last night was almost successful because they were able to slip in quietly. Like they had a key,” Eula said.
Mirilla’s eyes widened and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.
“Oh, I suppose you’re going to pretend that it wasn’t your key that was used,” Quin asked.
“I was sure it’s in my room,” she said again, but not so confidently this time.
“And next, you’re going to tell me that no one knew you were able to get into our residence without having to go through the front doors,” Quin snapped.
“I told no one, Sire! Only Chairman Bartholomew knew of my use of Au’revele’s quarters to gain access to this residence.”
“The guards knew. And they’ve already been questioned regarding their observance of it and their decision to not react to it,” Quin said. “They admitted they were aware you were using Au’revele’s quarters to gain access to our residence. But because they were told that you were to be granted access to our residence at will as long as Chairman Bartholomew was here, they didn’t stop you. I knew you’d been given access to our residence and didn’t have a problem with it because I knew you were visiting Bart. What I didn’t know was that you preferred to access someone else’s quarters, that you had no right to be in. What I don’t understand is if you were able to walk through the front door, why would you continue to establish a habit of being seen going in and out of Au’revele’s quarters? It makes no sense to me unless you had other motives.”
“I didn’t know I’d been seen. And the only motive was privacy, Sire. I was trying to keep the fact that I’d been here unknown.”
“You failed. And I think you knew you failed. You wanted them to be used to seeing you coming and going through Au’revele’s quarters so that when the time came for someone to attack my son, the guards would not think twice about the attacker slipping in through our nanny’s quarters,” Quin shouted.
“It’s not true!” Mirilla cried, only then allowing her gaze to travel the room until it landed on Bart, who stood there quietly watching the whole thing unfold. When he merely watched her watching him, she looked away to see who else had gathered to watch her be crucified. Samuel was there, his kind, yet sorrowful gaze on her, and Sirena Vivian. Yet when she glanced back at Bart, he still just stood there, expressionless, as he watched her being accused, watched her defending herself, and said nothing.
“I wasn’t aware that they knew. I wasn’t aware that anyone but Chairman Bartholomew knew I’d been here.”
“Tell me, Mirilla, how is it that the attacker happened to know they could access Au’revele’s quarters?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you not tell us that you’d lost your passkey so that we could reprogram the electronic locks on the doors? How is it that you just happened to lose it the day before my son’s nursery was infiltrated? Isn’t it also convenient that the attacker seemed to also know that they would be unchallenged if they did happen to be seen entering our nanny’s quarters? Why do you think that is?” Quin asked. The disdain in his voice was evident.
“I have no idea,” she answered truthfully.
“No idea. None at all?” he pressed.
“No, Sire. None.”
“Perhaps it’s because you already set the presidence by slipping in quietly, repeatedly. And perhaps they were able to get in easily because you gave your key to whoever was pretending to be you as they accessed my son’s nursery while he was sleeping!”
“It’s not true,” she said, looking to Bart for any kind of support at all.
But he stood silent, watching it all unfold.
“Okay, I can see that you’re not swayed to admit to any wrongdoing. You still insist you were not involved, so, let’s move to the most obvious. If you weren’t personally involved, not the one who actually attacked my son, then surely you told someone about your escapades, and they took your disdain for our security and used it to their advantage. So who was it? Who did you tell about entering our home that way you did?” Quin demanded.
“No one! My presence here is no one’s business but mine, Sire.”
“Sticking with that, are you?” Quin asked sarcastically. “Then we’ll try this route. Tell me why the only night my family was attacked was also the only night you didn’t sneak in like a criminal in the night to spend some time with Bart as you did every other night. Seems convenient, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not convenient. It’s a coincidence! And I never behaved like a criminal in the night. I simply went to any lengths necessary to protect his reputation and mine and that of the palace as well,” Mirilla insisted.
“Any lengths necessary… Interesting choice of words. And that desire to protect is admirable. Unless you consider the fact that you lost a passkey that grants entrance into any residence in this entire palace, including ours and the Sovereign’s, and you didn’t bother to make it known so that we could protect ourselves. You profess to want to keep us safe, yet quite literally give the key to our safety to any who might have found it — assuming you did in fact lose it. It’s a contradiction I can’t quite grasp, Mirilla.”
“I thought that with the guards you all had posted, you’d be safe until I could find the chance to tell the Sovereigna,” she said.
“You had the chance the night you claim it went missing, and all day yesterday. Why didn’t you do it then?”Quin asked.
“I was afraid to! I’ve never made a mistake. Never!”
“So your fear of being chastised was enough to justify placing our family at risk,” Quin snarled.
“That’s enough, Quin,” Eula said. “We don’t even know if a key was used or not, stop assuming.” She approached the girl she honestly considered a friend. “Mirilla, surely someone has become aware of the ease with which you visit this residence and they’ve taken advantage of it. I don’t for a moment believe that it’s you who willfully put us at risk. But we simply have to ask the questions. We have to determine who the culprit was so that they can be found out and fully prosecuted along with anyone involved in the planning of the attack.”
“I don’t have any answers for you,” Mirilla said. “I wish that I did, but I’ve not told anyone anything at all. I’ve gone to great lengths to keep my business here private. I’ve not even told anyone but you that I had an interest in Chairman Bartholomew. I’ve even avoided telling you about…”
“About what dear?” Eula asked.
Mirilla looked over at Bart.
He stood there with his hands in his pockets looking defeated. Finally he raised his eyes to hers and shrugged. “Go on,” he said, almost like a dare. “Tell them.”
Mirilla took a deep breath and turned to Eula. “Our engagement. We are engaged. Or we were,”she confided.
“Why is it that you have made sure that no one at all knows that we care for one another? Do you see how easy that was?” Bart asked.
“Do you see how suspicious it looks?” Quin asked.
Mirilla turned back to Bart. “You know why. I have responsibilities here. A reputation to uphold, as do you.”
“For what benefit? If you plan to marry me, move away with me so that I can continue my career as a means of support for our family, why is it so humiliating to you if others know?”
“It’s not humiliating! It’s… Bart…” she said, her surprise at his question, her heartache as she realized he wasn’t defending her apparent in the tone of his name as she spoke it. She just stopped speaking. Nothing she said mattered anyway, no one was listening to her words. No one was giving her the benefit of the doubt, except for perhaps Eula.
Bart shook his head slowly. “I’ve stood firm in my defense of you up to this point, but I have to admit, every point I’ve heard has created doubts. I hate these doubts because I love you. But I keep asking myself, were you just playing a part to gain my trust so I’d grant you unfettered access to this residence? Was that your end game? Was the reason you didn’t want anyone to know that you had any relationship with me so that suspicion wouldn’t fall on you when this all came to fruition? So that no one would know you’d been coming in via another route than the front door? I don’t know what to think, Mirilla. I’m even doubting myself now. I was so very proud of you, wanting to present you to everyone I know, and I still feel that despite all this. I’d still give you my name and take you away from here. But you’re standing here, still wanting to keep me hidden. What does that say about your reasons for all this? Help me understand, Mirilla. Help me have the understanding to fight against the points that have been justifiably presented.”
“You know I would never harm anyone, least of all the royal family. I’ve always been proud to be a part of their lives here in the palace. I’ve served them faithfully for so very long. It hurts that they doubt me, it hurts even more that you doubt me, but even so I’d still never cause them harm. I’d never cause you harm. They know this. You should know this!” Mirilla exclaimed tearfully.
“I thought I did. But now I wonder if I saw the things I wanted to see rather than the way things really were. Don’t blame them for creating the doubts I can’t unsee now. Their child was attacked, their nanny assaulted when she fended off the attacker. Clearly that wasn’t you, you don’t bear the evidence of her defensive attack. But do you know who it was? I think you might. Someone slipped in in your stead, knowing they could. Did you tell them it was possible through an innocent conversation and leave it at that, or did you make it possible through manipulation of me and the situation? Why was the only night you didn’t stay with me, the night the attack took place? Can you not see how convenient it seems?”
Mirilla’s tears tracked down her face as she blinked, but she refused to sob or to openly cry in front of these people. She was stronger than that. She was better than that, even if they didn’t see it. She stood a little straighter, got her emotions in check and looked Bart in the eye as he spoke.
“Mirilla, we’re desperate to ask all the questions we can to determine who targeted us,” Vivian said, still holding Alexandrus close, his entire body and head hidden from view in the deep, rich green blanket he was wrapped in. “If it wasn’t you, fine. But surely someone knows how you were getting in and out without having to deal with the guards outside. That alone would lead us in another direction. Who was it? That’s all we need. Who was it?”
Mirilla shook her head slowly, and linked her fingers together at hip level in front of herself. “I don’t know. I kept my relationship with Chairman Bartholomew private because I care about his reputation. I kept our relationship private because I care about the reputation of the palace and those who work and live here and I’m an important part of making sure that all runs smoothly. If they begin to see me differently, I won’t be able to perform my job as I do now— I would lose respect. I didn’t let it be known that I’d lost a passkey because I honestly thought and still think that it’s in my rooms somewhere, and because I was afraid to admit I’d made a mistake. I didn’t speak of our engagement because I hadn’t had the chance to share the information with Sovereigna Eula. Once she was aware of our plans, and the proper announcements had been made, the situation would have changed. Everyone would have known of my plans to leave and I could have openly worked with anyone who cared to take my place. It would have been a positive thing and I could have helped with the transition to whoever was going to be the next Head of Staff. I would have been proud to speak to any who asked about it, but until then, I felt it only right that certain protocols be observed. As it stands, I am a servant. He is Chairman of the Consortium. It is not the usual way of things. I planned to speak to Sovereigna Eula about it this very day, but someone attacked your family, so I didn’t. The time wasn’t right, so instead, I performed my duties this morning, made sure that every single detail was addressed by those who needed to address them, and went to the Sovereigna’s private sitting room to wait for her after I heard the news. I even went to the length of forbidding any I overheard gossiping from continuing to do so. I wasn’t hiding from anyone who was searching for me. I was waiting for the Sovereigna. It’s not my fault your warriors didn’t check her sitting room. I’m here now because I willfully came in search of Sovereigna Eula out of concern for her, and your family. I was not trying to slip into Au’revele’s quarters again — I was simply walking down the corridor on my way here when the guards spotted me and decided that I was a fugitive. In order to be a fugitive, one has to run and hide. I did not run. I am not hiding. I don’t know who it was that attacked your family. I wish that I did so that I could condemn them myself. But I don’t. I never spoke of my comings and goings here to anyone at all and I was never even aware that the guards witnessed it, much less anyone else.”
“How do you still stand there and deny every single thing we’ve presented? Can you not see all the coincidences lining up?” Quin shouted.
Mirilla winced, taking a step back at the same time Bart took a step closer to her protectively, but she stepped even further back, away from him rather than accepting any kind of protection from him. “I see the coincidences. But they’re not accurate. I did none of these things. And if someone happened to see me as I entered Au’revele quarters, I’m unaware of it. I made errors in judgment — I did not, nor will I ever betray the monarchy of Cruestace. Regardless of what you believe, my loyalty has never wavered.”
Eula reached out and briefly covered Mirilla’s hand with her own, though Mirilla gave no indication that she’d noticed. “Mirilla, I think it’s probably best if you return to your quarters and wait for me there. You’ll be out of the way of anyone who might be over-reactive because of the situation,” Eula said.
Mirilla inclined her head. “Whatever you think is best, Sovereigna,” she said quietly.
“Ba Re’, will you please escort her to her quarters, and do so gently?” Eula said.
“Yes, Sovereigna,” Ba Re’ said, stepping forward and gripping Mirilla’s upper arm.
“It is not necessary to drag her there. She is perfectly capable of walking on her own. You need only walk with her,” Eula said .
“Yes, Sovereigna,” Ba Re’ said, releasing her arm.
“In fact, if any attempt to accost her, defend her as though you were defending me. I can’t see how she’s done anything wrong other than be too concerned with the opinions of others,” Eula added. She turned to Mirilla and put her arm around her. “All will be well, you’ll see. We just need to finish our investigation and find the true culprits. Then all will return to normal.”
Mirilla raised her gaze to Bart’s and held it. “Things will never be normal again.”
“They will. Tempers are just running hot at the moment. You’ll see.”
“I’m sure I will, Sovereigna.”
“Ba Re’,” Eula said.
Ba Re’ gestured toward the door, and rather than drag her out of it, to his credit, escorted her without touching or dragging her in any way.
Mirilla went willingly, her faith in the royal family shaken, but not destroyed. The Sovereigna had tried to soothe her, had encouraged her to believe that everything would work itself out — so maybe it really would. But then she heard Quin’s voice just as she exited the royal residence and the doors were still open.
“I don’t care how much she denies it. There is no other feasible answer! Someone knew of her visits here. And they gained access to her key! She was either planted here to create weakness in our security, or she shared the information with someone else and she’s protecting them by not telling us who it was.”
“I’m really not sure about that, Quin,” Vivian said. “Did you see her responses? She’s struggling. I don’t think she did it.”
“Of course she’s struggling. She doesn’t want to rot in prison or face an executioner for treason,” Quin said.
Fear shot through Mirilla’s body like a drug on hearing that he planned to send her to prison, or have her executed. Her steps faltered and she looked up at Ba Re’. “I didn’t do anything,” she said, her voice cracking and shaky with fear .
“Again, female. I don’t care. It’s not my place to decide,” Ba Re’ answered.
Mirilla’s lips trembled for a few seconds before she managed to get herself under control again, then she started down the corridor with Ba Re’ at her side. They walked in silence, not speaking when she led him into the service hallway, or when she led the way to her quarters. She opened her door and stepped inside, turning around to face Ba Re’. “Thank you for getting me here safely.”
“Lock your door.”
She nodded and closed and locked her door.
She listened to his footsteps retreating, then, walked over to her dresser and got on her hands and knees, searching for the missing key. She even pulled the dresser away from the wall and looked behind it, but it wasn’t there. She spent the next twenty minutes tearing her bedroom apart as she searched for the missing passkey, but it was nowhere to be found. Whoever had gained entrance into the royal residence, had most likely used her missing key. But how? Who could have broken into her room and taken it without her knowing? She sat down on the edge of her bed and allowed herself to fall apart. She cried like she’d never cried before. She was truly frightened of what her future would hold, and regretful over not speaking up about the key to begin with. Had she, she might have stopped the attacker from getting near the Sire’s youngling. And Bart… that was another heartbreak entirely. She’d thought he truly loved her, but he made no move to defend her at all. He just stood there and let Sire Zha Quin shout accusingly at her. Even Bart doubted her innocence. But the truth was, she wasn’t even sure she blamed him; the arguments Sire Zha Quin made were too reasonable and too strong to be ignored. If she didn’t know for sure that she’d not done what they accused her of, she’d question her own innocence. Everything was just lining up too nicely.
Feeling the heartache overtaking her again, she collapsed in tears on her bed again. She cried until exhaustion set in. Too tired to move, yet her mind was unable to stop playing scenarios in her mind. Retracing her steps. Replaying any conversation she’d had since Bart arrived, trying to find any little thing she might have forgotten. Any little thing that could be a clue to the person responsible for all that had happened. Eventually, she gave into the fatigue and fell asleep.
Hours later, she awoke alone in the darkness of her room. She opened her eyes but remained perfectly still on her bed. With her mind clear from all the bombarding thoughts she’d had before falling asleep, she saw one seemingly innocent encounter clearly. In the memory that seemed to jump forward into her consciousness at random, she saw her brother’s gaze as it dropped from her face to focus on the passkey dangling from the slender silver chain she wore as a necklace. She took count of how many times she’d happened to run into him in the service hallways she used to traverse the palace — and that was strange in and of itself — he refused to traverse service entrances, seeing himself above any servant or employee. And finally, she saw a flash of the contract she’d completed upon being hired. When asked who would have access to her rooms, she’d listed his name. She’d always share anything she had with her brother — she loved him, he was the only family she had left, so she’d listed him to give him access, and they’d given her two keys to her rooms, and with her exemplary service, it didn’t take long before she’d achieved the title of Head of Staff. Though she now used the passkeys to enter her room, she’d never changed the security codes on the individual keys for her rooms, and her brother still had the key that gave him access. Sitting up slowly, she went over everything in her head again and again and again, trying to find any chink in the conveniences she herself had realized. But there were none. There was no other way to explain all that had happened. He’d done it. Her own brother had used her and her position to attack the royal family she was unshakably loyal to, and he’d left her to pick up the pieces if she’d not be able to explain it away. The additional heartbreak she felt was only momentary, as her anger at his betrayal began to fill her. The more she considered, the more she was convinced, this was all her brother’s doing, and he’d left her to face the accusations. He didn’t care if she paid the price for his treachery. All cried out, and desperation gone, she sat quietly on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide-open as she stared at the wall. Taking a deep, calming breath, she slowly stood up. No one would save her but herself, and she knew just where to start. “So be it,” she whispered.