CHAPTER SEVEN – HATTIE #2
“Forgive my interruption, ma’am,” Rowan says, catching my gaze as soon as I open my eyes. “There may be a legal reason why the young lady cannot answer your questions.”
“More binding than the fact I’m the Queen?”
Rowan nods, then bends down and whispers something in her ear. Her eyebrows shoot up, and a wave of realisation slowly softens her features.
“Of course. That would be exactly something William Sinclair would do.” She brings her hand to her mouth, frowning.
“What’s going on?” Crown Prince Finley asks. “Can someone clue me in?”
She waves her other hand at him, dismissing his question. “Rowan, you were a lawyer once.”
“Twenty-five years ago, ma’am,” he replies.
“But you’re aware of all our laws.”
“I keep myself abreast of them as well I can, yes.”
“Good enough,” she says. “Hypothetically, if someone was coerced into signing something that means they cannot reveal their legal name, would that be binding in a court of law?”
“A judge may rule that an element of coercion invalidates the contract,” he replies carefully. “But if the agreement was signed in exchange for something—say, money—then it may be harder to prove, given both parties benefit from it.”
The Queen looks at me. “What if something was being withheld and access was granted on the basis of the contract terms being fulfilled? Say, a trust fund?”
She knows everything.
Oh, my God.
I look between them both. If there’s any chance they can read in my eyes that they’re on the right track, please, please let them see it.
Rowan stares at me for a moment, holding my gaze, then bows his head. “If conditions for access to a trust fund have already been met, then it would be unlawful for that access to be revoked or restricted unless it’s stated otherwise.”
“So,” the Queen says, happily pouring herself another cup of tea.
“Let’s put this together, still hypothetically, of course: if a young lady has a trust fund that grants her access to it at the age of twenty-one with no other requirements, but her access is either revoked or restricted unless she signs a contract stipulating that she keep her legal identity a secret, that contract could be considered void? ”
“It’s rather simplified, but under Askurian law, I believe there would be an excellent argument for it. One that a judge would certainly be interested in hearing.”
“Interesting.” She sips her tea and looks at me.
“And, if someone else were to accidentally discover this young lady’s legal name—but the young lady does not verbally confirm the other person’s discovery—could she be held responsible for breach of a potential contract?
Assuming the contract can’t be voided, of course. ”
“Without reading the terms of the contract signed by the young lady, I cannot say for sure. However…” Rowan turns his attention to me again. “The young lady could simply not answer any questions that could confirm her legal name.”
“But I’m the Queen. I expect my questions to be answered.”
“You’re a gracious leader, Your Majesty. I’m sure you could make an exception every now and then.”
“Very true.” She taps her nail against her chin, then looks at me and smiles.
“Then how about this? I ask you some questions. Simple yes or no answers, nothing complicated. If the answer is no, you can shake your head or say so. But if the answer is yes, you say nothing. You don’t nod, smile, put your thumb up…
Nothing that, should anyone walk in here, give an indication that you’re answering the questions. ”
Oh.
She’s smart.
An answer by omission is still an answer, if you want it to be.
By not saying a word when she’s right, I’m telling her everything while saying absolutely nothing.
And when the time comes—if it comes—I can look my father in the eye and say that I never told anyone my name.
“Would you be open to humouring a desperate old lady who’s been hoping to find her late best friend’s daughter for twenty years? Would you answer my questions, Hannah?” Her eyes twinkle with a playfulness that contradicts her words, and I can’t help but smile a little.
“Of course, Your Majesty. After all, you’re the Queen. I’ll answer whatever you ask of me, as long as I’m able.”
Crown Prince Finley looks at me. His gaze is practically boring a hole into the side of my head, but all I can do is look at the Queen and beat down every ounce of adrenaline pumping through my body right now.
It’s much harder than it seems.
Am I vibrating? I feel like I’m vibrating.
“Let’s start with some easy ones. You’re a photographer, correct?” Her Majesty asks.
I say nothing.
“Good. Um… The drink you were served earlier is apple juice.”
“No, I was served a green tea.”
“Oh, delicious.” She smiles. “It’s a sunny day today.”
Silence.
It’s a gorgeous, sunny day.
“You have brown hair.”
“No. I have blonde hair,” I reply.
“Excellent. I think that’s clear.” She tilts her head to the side. “Did you go overseas by choice when you were a child?”
I swallow. “No.”
“Mhmm.” She nods once. “Finley told me you returned here about two years ago. Is that true?”
Silence.
“You mentioned staying with a family member. Is that member your father?”
Again, I say nothing.
“Your mother still alive, correct?”
I look down once more. “No,” I say quietly.
“Was your mother’s name Francesca Sinclair?”
I close my eyes, dipping my chin as if the slight angle will hide my pain. My nose is burning, and if I open my eyes again, I will cry.
Cry from acknowledgement. That someone remembers her. That someone loves her. That someone cares enough to say her name with kindness instead of cruelty.
“Is your legal name Harriet Sinclair?” she asks, and her voice cracks on my real name.
I do nothing.
I don’t move.
I don’t speak.
I barely even breathe.
“Is the reason you cannot answer those questions because you were forced into signing an agreement like the one we mentioned earlier?”
This time, I open my eyes, steel my spine, and look her directly in the eye.
“That lying bas—”
“Mother,” Crown Prince Finley says, reaching out to touch her arm. His gaze has left me and is now focused on the table, but his head is lowered and his fingers are sunk deep into his dark hair.
The Queen’s nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath. She looks at me, and a raw vulnerability shines in her sharp gaze. “If you’re lying to me, young lady…”
“The day the rebels invaded the palace and the Crown Prince subsequently escaped his kidnapper, he was found by a young girl with blonde hair wearing blue shorts and a yellow t-shirt. They met in the woods where she’d been feeding a stray cat.
It was a grey cat with one eye and a docked tail,” I say quietly.
“The Crown Prince was wearing a red jumper, but he returned home without it, because he offered it to the girl when she was cold. She was told she’d be rewarded for helping him hide, and she was excited because the Queen promised she’d host her eighth birthday party—”
“—in the palace,” Crown Prince Finley echoes. “But she never got that party. She disappeared six months later.”
I press my lips together. “Did you at least go and feed the cat after she disappeared?”
He rubs his hand down his face, his eyes almost glassy with shock. “Better. He lived here for a year until he died of old age.”
“That’s good, at least.”
“Oh, God.” The Queen covers her face with her hands, resting her elbows on the table. “I can’t…”
Rowan whispers in her ear, then clears his throat and moves towards me. “Miss… Sinclair? Perhaps we should give Her Majesty some space. I’ll escort you to another room, if you don’t mind.”
I stand, and the chair seems to scream against the old hardwood floor as I push it back. “I’m sorry,” I say across the table.
She shakes her head, her face still hidden. Crown Prince Finley merely stares at me as if he’s seen a ghost, like he can’t quite believe the truth that’s just placed itself in front of him.
Rowan offers me a kind smile as he ushers me out of the room, and I throw one last glance over my shoulder before he closes the door behind me.
“Am I in trouble?” I ask quietly, walking alongside him.
“No. Far from it,” he replies. “Her Majesty has waited for this a long time. She merely needs to gather her emotions. I think it’s best you stay nearby for a little longer. I’m sure she or His Royal Highness will want to speak with you against today once they’ve accepted the news.”
I nod, and he leads me into a room that’s a little smaller than the one we were just in. It’s more of a living room than the dining-esque space we were just occupying.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. Someone will be outside the door if you need anything.” Rowan motions for me to sit down.
“Are they there to help me, or make sure I don’t disappear?”
He smiles, and a little chuckle escapes him. “Forgive me, miss, but you’ve already disappeared once—it’s best to keep tabs on you right now.”
“Fair enough.” I can’t help but return his smile, even though mine is a lot tighter than his. “Could someone bring my things? I’ll work on the portraits while I wait.”
He bows his head as he backs out of the room, and I take that as a yes.
The door clicks shut.
I lean back on the sofa, stare at the ceiling, and take the deepest breath I possibly can.
I did it.
I fucking did it.