Chapter 20 #2
I drop to my knees, and she holds my hair while I very politely puke my guts up. When I’m done, I sit back on my heels and take the napkin handed to me with a quiet “thanks.”
I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine and then I wasn’t.
Now I feel as if nothing is wrong other than the foul taste in my mouth. Someone holds out a hand to help me up from the floor and another, hands me a glass of water to swish with before offering a glass of ginger ale for my stomach.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “That was really odd. I have no idea what happened.”
The women just stare at me wearing the same expression, one that hovers somewhere between caring compassion and wanting to shout you sweet summer child, how can you be so dumb? Grace wades in and asks, “Are you sure you don’t have any idea?”
“None at all,” I reply. “I hope I’m not coming down with something. I’d hate to expose all of you and your children. Especially Kayla.”
“I don’t think you’re contagious,” Jules says and Cara elbows her hard in the ribs.
“What aren’t you all saying?” I ask.
“Honey, could you be pregnant?” Kayla asks.
I laugh… until I don’t. “You don’t think…?”
“Have you been trying?” Cara asks.
“We’ve been not not trying,” I whisper.
“That’s how they get you,” Jules says. “What? I’m just saying. You marry a virile man like ours and you get knocked up. It’s like basic math.”
“You hate math,” Grace laughs.
“I also have a hot husband who not only planted his own kids in me but came pre-loaded with my awesome bonus kids.”
“True.”
“Ohmigod,” I mutter.
“It’ll be fine,” Cara says.
Famous last words…
· · ·
After the ladies calm me down, we all do our makeup.
They help touch up my hair, and Kayla passes me a tin of sour candies to help with what could possibly be morning sickness—something they happily share is really a misnomer.
Apparently, it can happen any time something disagrees with your senses.
I walk back down the hall to my suite and find Rhys looking as handsome as ever in his tux.
He helps me pin my tiara in my hair and loop my earrings through my lobes before arranging my family and royal orders over my dress.
“I think I rather like playing your lady’s maid, hen,” he says with a softness in his eyes as he takes me in.
Panic bubbles up at the thought that maybe he knows what the ladies talked to me about earlier.
I don’t want him to know yet. It’s not like I’ve taken a test or anything.
I’d rather be sure when I tell him. There’s no sense sending up false alarms.
Just as we’re ready to go, there’s a knock on the main door. Rhys pulls it open so that Leo, the rest of our team, Rick, and Ryan of the White House security come in wearing serious looks on their faces. Whatever news they’re about to deliver, it’s not good.
“Let’s get it over with,” Rhys says. “What’s happened?”
“We have intel that there’s going to be an attempt on the President,” Rick says.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” Rhys says. “I’m assuming it’s who we thought it was going to be?”
“Aye, Your Majesty,” Leo answers. “They aim to set you up for it.”
“No,” I gasp, and all the men in the room freeze. “We can’t let that happen. The President can’t die because of us.”
“We’re not going to let that happen,” Ryan says.
“But you can’t be sure of that,” I snap. “We can’t risk it.”
“Ma’am,” he says. “No offense, but no one is getting to Jake. My wife would kill me, and I like my wife as least murderous as possible.”
“What an odd thing to say,” I reply.
“You hung out with her earlier,” he shrugs. “You tell me.”
“She was lovely.”
“Yeah.” He smiles, clearly in love with his wife. “She really is.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Rhys asks.
“You are going to head to the state banquet as if nothing is wrong,” Rick says. “The less you know the better, but your team knows everything they can.”
“And you trust this plan?” Rhys asks, looking at Leo.
“Aye, Your Majesty. I would no’ risk it,” he answers.
“Then we’ll proceed as you’ve planned,” Rhys replies while my mind still reels and my heart hammers in my chest.
We all file out of the suite and are escorted down to the South Lawn where massive white tents have been erected to hold the number of people who were invited. I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin as I try to discreetly look around for my uncle or the earl.
Like at the other state dinners, we’re paired up with people who may be a connection to make or an honor to escort us in. The room stands and claps as we are led in with the rest of the procession. Cara discreetly waves at me, and I shoot her a grateful smile.
We’re all escorted to our seats and again, Rhys is nowhere near me.
I make casual small talk with my tablemates.
That kind of thing is not easy for me to begin with, and that’s on a normal day when I’m not expecting someone to try and kill my new friend’s husband.
And not when I think I might be pregnant.
Tonight feels like too much and I know I’m doing a poor job of being a visiting dignitary.
Jules walks by and whispers, “Fix your face,” as she goes and I paste on a public smile.
Through dinner, my smile feels more and more horrific, worsening as the night wears on.
Rhys and Jake make great speeches, and I stand and clap with everyone else but I cannot recall one word of what either of them said up there. I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin.
Eventually, there’s a break and I excuse myself to the ladies’ room. As I move through one tent and then another to get to the walkway to the main building, someone grabs my arm and pulls me into the bushes. Before I can scream, a hand is wrapped around my mouth, and I’m turned to face my uncle.
“You have a job to do and you’re going to do it,” my captor says without preamble. That must mean I’m held by none other than the earl. He uncovers my mouth but does not let me go.
“And what’s that?” I ask quietly.
“You’re going to kill the president.”
“No,” I whisper.
He lashes out and slaps me across the face.
“You don’t have a choice,” he says. “You owe me and you’re going to do what I say. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he says. “You’re going to stab him in his sleep. Tonight.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You’ll die,” my uncle says. “It will be ugly and painful, and death will only be granted after I say so. And that, my dear, will be long after the earl has had a chance to play with you,”
“And I do so love you play.” The earl licks his tongue up the side of my neck.
I want to throw up all over again, but I manage to swallow it back.
My uncle hands me the evening bag I dropped when I was grabbed, and says, “The knife is in here. Do be sure that you’ve finished the job.”
“And when I’m done?” I ask.
“You’ll be tried and hung for your crimes.” He smirks.
“You didn’t think you were anything but a pawn, did you?” The earl sneers as he lets me go and walks away, my uncle following in his wake.
One thing is certain, I may have been brought into this game as a pawn, but I’ll finish it as a Queen. Only God can save me now.