Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“Augusta.” I groaned. I loved how she thought everything was about her sometimes. “I promise it has nothing at all to do with you.”
“You aren’t even a little bit jealous? Well, that is disappointing.” She pouted jokingly.
“Yep, I’m totally jealous. My heart is turning blacker as we speak.”
“Good.” She laughed.
Rolling my eyes, I walked over to her, giving her another hug. “I will call you when I can. Until then,”—I bent over to talk to her belly—”please feel free to kick your mom all you like, sweetheart!”
“Hey!” She shoved me and looked down at her stomach. “Do not listen to her! Mom trumps Godmother.”
“Then I am the fun aunt, for sure.” I winked, rising back up. “Go back to your party. Enjoy yourself. Okay? I’m good.”
“If you ever need to talk—”
“I know. I know.”
When I got inside my car, the very first thing I did was take a deep breath. I found that I had to do that often now. It was like I was drowning all the time and could only come up briefly before being dragged back down.
There had been a Ruegg in the palace guard for the last 287 years. My father was a palace guard, and before him, my grandfather, my great-grandfather, his father before him, and so on. Some families pass down businesses; my family passed down the Code of Honor. It was a ninety-seven-page book that never changed. Of course, every monarch had their personal wishes, instructions, and habits we must also know. But the Code of Honor was always the foundation. It was our northern star, our guiding light, and the first thing in that book was a reminder.
You are not the sovereign’s friend.
You are not the sovereign’s friend.
They were free to think of us as such if they chose, but we, the guard, could never have that same impression. We lived to protect them by any means necessary. Even our own lives. We did not give advice unless asked, and even when we were, we had to remind them it was not our place to offer our opinion. It was the most important thing to remember because when we started to see royals as our friends instead of our sovereigns, it was easy to wonder why they ruled instead of us. It was easier to see them as equals, and they certainly were not.
The rest of Europe may have given in to the experiment that was democracy; however, Ersovia was different. Not because we did not want a voice or were not aware of the dangers of bad monarchs. We knew those dangers and did our best to safeguard ourselves from that. We chose the monarchy because somehow, some way, the Monterey’s always made the people believe in them. They always managed to come back and bring us all to a greater moment of glory. All through our history and the memories of our family, through wars, sickness, and tragedy, they overcame.
Somehow, they overcame. So, we believed in them.
I believed in them.
But it was getting harder for me. The stories I had heard from Father and his father about their times in these great halls felt so far away now. The glory of the House of Monterey seemed to have dimmed since Prince Arthur’s death. Everywhere felt cold. Cold and angry.
“Get out!”
Crash!
I watched as the young maid—well, she looked at least Wolfgang’s age—with blue eyes and dark hair came rushing out. She adjusted the collar of her uniform quickly. She jumped up when she saw me, startled as if she had not expected to see me here even though I was the one who had opened the door for her to enter the study, to begin with.
“Iskandar!” He shouted from inside.
Ignoring her, I walked inside, noticing the food the maid had brought in sprawled out on the floor. He sat up on the couch, rubbing his eyes.
“Adelaar,” I answered.
“Did you let that maid inside even though I ordered to be left alone?”
“Only at the queen’s direction.”
He sighed, looking up at me. The dark circles around his eyes seemed never to fade at this point. “Where the hell is Wolfgang?”
Before I could answer, the man in question rushed back into the room. “Adelaar!”
His blond hair was messy, and his face flushed. Where in the hell had he been?
“Where have you been?”
“Princess Eliza called—”
“Are you Princess Eliza’s secretary or mine?”
His eyes widened. “Sir, technically, I am hers now.”
He was right. He was far too inexperienced to be the personal secretary to the Adelaar, and he had been reassigned to Princess Eliza. But he still checked in with the Adelaar because, well, the Adelaar wanted him to.
“Right.” The prince sighed, again rubbing the side of his temple. “And I dismissed Balduin and Ambrose for an hour to get some sleep. From now on, Iskandar, I do not care what the queen says. I do not want any maids in here. Wolfgang, inform Ambrose I want the maid who just left dismissed immediately. Understood?”