40
Camilla White
“ I s this okay?” I ask Harry for the thousandth time.
“More than okay, Your–”
“Harry,” I hiss, cutting him off. “My name is Camilla. The king’s still alive."
“Not for long,” he hums.
It has been half an hour since we arrived at Livian Palace. The king wished to spend his last days away from Livia, it seems, but he wasn’t able to leave the palace before falling extremely ill.
No one knows what he has for certain, and it seems we won’t know anytime soon since his staff is extremely loyal to him.
After Harry worked his magic through the night, it only took the king—or whoever he told—an hour and a half to answer and request my presence as soon as possible. Upon our arrival, it felt like whispers were following our steps through every division as one of the servants led us through the labyrinthic compound.
This is one hell of an estate.
We have been left to wait in an overly-decorated division. It has the lower half of the walls covered in a wooden layer holding many portraits of nobility, high-ranking generals from the nineteenth century, and some members of the royal family. As well as some of Monera’s past kings and queens.
From those, I can only recognise our first and founding queen with her British husband and Joseph’s father… my grandfather .
At the centre lies one giant wooden table surrounded by red silk-upholstered chairs. The wealth in these divisions is crazy and mind-blowing. So many people out there are struggling to make a days’ worth, and here they are, basking in luxurious second, third, and fourth houses just because they can.
Not to mention the floor, covered in this colossal rug that Harry has mentioned to be one of the castle’s most famous items for being woven by inmates of Agra Prison in India in 1992. It is, apparently, the largest seamless carpet and weighs two tonnes.
This is ridiculous. Did those men even get paid for their work? Were there even working conditions in such a prison?
“Mr Langford, Ms White…” The same servant from before breaks my reverie and motions for us to follow him. Finally. “The king will receive you. I advise some discretion and understanding of the king’s fragile state. Please don’t rile him up. It’ll only bring him suffering.”
God, the situation must be serious.
“Of course,” I agree.
We both walk side by side, following the man through another long corridor and some doors before we finally stop by a white wooden door.
With a soft knock, the man opens the door and announces, without moving an inch, “Your Majesty, Ms White and Mr Langford are here to see you.”
A barely audible grunt gives him the okay to step through the door and to the side, bowing while extending his arm, permitting us entrance. Once inside, I can barely get a glance at the king since we both bow right away, which is the formal and necessary greeting to have before being able to address him.
“I wouldn’t worry with such formalities,” his hoarse voice comes out as an effort. “I had this feeling the first time I saw you–” A rough cough interrupts his words.
My hands itch to go help ease his pain, and my feet still walk forward, only to be stopped by Harry’s hand. It’s attached to my elbow, and as I look back at him, he shakes his head. That’s enough for me to stay put.
I’ve been Aunt Lizzie’s caregiver for quite a while, so it's ingrained in me by now.
“I am sorry for disturbing you, Your Majesty. I wish things hadn’t gone this way. I’ve only recently discovered it myself, and–”
His frail, and yellowed hand raises, cutting me off, too. Then, the unexpected happens...
He laughs. It is a weird and gruesome mix of his ever-present hoarse voice and a cough. But it’s there. It almost sounds sarcastic.
“If those documents I was told you have are certified, and you are my brother’s secret child…” He laughs again. “This will be fun. I am just bummed I won’t be here to witness the circus this will turn into.”
“Believe me, none of that is my intention.”
“Then what is it?” He struggles to move, and the same man who led us here rushes to him, helping him up. “Come here,” he orders me, and I do, begrudgingly.
Once I reach his plush bedside, his hand grabs mine.
“You must wish for something.”
His brown orbs are surrounded by swollen red vessels. He is so frail, and it’s clear the toll that the effort of speaking to me has on his body, but he is determined to get this through until the end. Perseverance.
Even in sickness, his gaze is strong-willed and intense, making me look down to avoid eye contact. Why?
His words cut right through me, bringing shame and embarrassment to the surface. He is right. This wealth...This lifestyle is not me. This is not what I aimed for in my life and yet here I am. A scorned woman, seeking revenge.
Wanting to see in Vincent’s eyes the same pain I feel every second I breathe in and out. Just to show him that the ugly stone he disposed of has gold on the inside.
“What I wished for has been robbed from me, and after learning my entire life was a lie, I want to make things right.”
“Oh, darling, what you want...is to make them suffer.” He slowly lets out a smirk.
Yes. No. I don’t know anymore.
“Joshua, check those documents, please,” King Charles says, not looking away from me.
From behind, I can hear some shuffling and whispered words. The silence that follows doesn’t last long since the frail man holding my hand squeezes it lightly, bringing my attention back to him.
“I regret not making things right with my brother, you know…” he trails off, looking through me, deep in thought. “This life we live, what it requires from us...it’s like throwing a baby deer into a lion’s den. You either dress up their skin and play the part, or you’re swallowed alive. In the end, we were both poisoned by this lifestyle and mostly by our parents.”
That’s sad. And cruel.
I have no siblings, but I’ve seen from the past few months that it should be something like the bond Vincent and Edgar have. Companionship with a little bit of a sassy attitude— from Edgar mostly —and some arguments, but in the end, they seemed to be there for each other if needed. It’s subtle, but I’ve seen it...
The king and his brother—my father —never had that.
“Anyway, it’s too late to change that now…”
“Your Majesty, these documents are certified. We can run some DNA tests of our own to confirm what’s in here–”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” the king cuts his worker off, turning his attention back to me. “I am sure my brother wouldn’t lie in such a manner. I am even more certain Elizabeth Hawthorne wouldn’t let this happen if it wasn’t indisputable either.” Another short pause, so he can recover his breath.
With a light curling of his hands, he beckons me even closer. I oblige, bending closer to him.
His hand hovers over my head, and when he starts speaking again, the whole room is stunned into silence, “Camilla White, you’re now Princess Camilla of Severna, second in line and my apparent heir."
The power of his recognition echoes through the bedroom, making the eerie quietness that follows each word so heavy with the meaning of the situation. None of us understands how big this is.
I don’t, at least. Not yet.
“Joshua,” he rasps. “Call for the counsellor and the Parliament and send for all documentation. I’ll sign off whatever they need to make this a smooth and secret transition.”
“Secret?” I can’t help but cut in.
“Oh, yes…” He sighs. “I only want the world to know on Coronation Day.”
“But, Your Majesty, the coronation will only happen a year after–”
“No,” the king cuts in. “It needs to be different this time. She will be Crowned right away.” A short break for some breathing. “Instead of giving everyone else power over who to choose, I’d rather leave it to someone I choose.”
“The Parliament will–”
“If those documents are irrefutable, they will oblige. You know our Constitution better than anyone. She is the next in line.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Joshua bows before leaving the room.
As soon as he leaves, a young lady—a nurse—enters.
“I just wish I could see that witch’s reaction when you’re being Crowned.”
Witch? Oh... Oh !
“You mean the Duke’s mother?”
He doesn’t answer but smiles wickedly. The mischief in his eyes is still clear even through his fragile condition.
“Are you sure you want this? It’s going to be lonely and very often ruthless…”
“I have been lonely my entire life, Your Majesty. This will be no different.”
He smiles lazily as his eyes flutter, craving to close. His hold on my hand slackens, and the nurse rushes to us again, picking up the king’s hand and placing it on his chest.
She smoothly ushers us out of the room, locking the door behind her. That is when Joshua shows up again, ready to direct us out of the palace. We follow as he takes the lead through the grand building.
I have no idea where I am going.
“The king needs rest,” he starts, not even bothering to look at us. “I’ll direct you to the rooms you’ll be staying in–”
Stay here?
That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind before.
“Oh, no,” I refuse. There’s no way I’ll stay here. “I’ve paid for a hotel, and–”
He stops, cutting me off when I almost crash against his back. The king’s right-hand turns and looks me in the eye, scoffing, “Right. Because the princess will be staying at some gauche hotel while she waits for the succession process to be done.”
“He is right,” Harry chimes in. “Everything has changed now. Forget having a normal life from now on…”
A normal life… I never had one.
“Exactly,” Joshua agrees. “You’ll be waiting here, in safety, just as the king expects. Mr Langford can come and go as he pleases to take care of all legal matters for you. I will take care of everything else.”
I nod meekly, resigned to my new reality.
Everyone restarts their robotic walk through the long corridors. It takes about five more minutes until we finally reach huge white double doors.
“Your private chambers, for now, Your Royal Highness.”
Joshua opens the door, and my jaw slackens at the beauty and opulence. It’s decorated in light blues and silvery tones. Stunning and very feminine .
“There’s no–”
“You’ll be given constant updates, and I’ll call for the modiste to come and take your measures. You need formal attire for all the different events that will happen from now on…”
“Can I talk to–”
“Please don’t talk to anyone about this until we have guaranteed everything will happen smoothly and safely.
“But–”
“No buts, Your Royal Highness,” Harry cuts in. “Let us take the lead from here. We won’t disappoint you.”
Disappointment. That’s all I've gotten lately.
But Harry's determined eyes and Joshua’s serious face tell me otherwise. They tell me to trust someone else just one last time. So, I do.
I trust them.