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)
“As for what you were also asking,” she went on, not sensing the moment I was having. “There are three units within the palace. There is the help, which are the palace maids, kitchen maids, scullery maids, cooks, butlers, footmen, doormen, the smiths, decorators, florists, and gardeners. Each of them has a head director like the head of the palace maids and the head cook. Then someone who is the director for all the help. The second group is the staff. These are the secretaries, assistants, and tutors. Again, they all have their heads and then a head for the staff. The last group is the guard—they are the personal guards, the palace guard, and then palace security.”
“And the difference between a guard and the security? Aren’t they for the same purpose?” How many people were in this palace?
“Yes, but to become a personal or palace guard, you must pass the King Ulrik Guard Academy. Everyone either calls it KUGA or the Academy. Only ninety-nine people pass in a year. The top ten can become personal guards to the royals if needed, and the rest can become palace guards or political guards. Palace security didn’t go to the Academy but may have a background in security. They assist the guard with smaller issues such as cameras, watching areas, and notification of threats. I am sure there is much more that I do not know. But I can find out. Nevertheless, Mr. Ambrose meets with all the head directors to overlook everything and then reports to the Adelaar, and the Adelaar reports to the king.”
She paused at a large, white double door that stood at the end of the hall next to a large hall window overlooking two dual water fountains and a flower maze in the corner.
“This will be your room, miss.” She moved to open it but stopped, and I turned to see what she was looking at.
Thelma came forward, and I now understood, thanks to Gelula’s explanation, what it meant to be the seventh woman in Ersovian history to enter personal guards. Also, what it meant to have that number.
“Miss, these will be your new devices,” she said and handed an all-black touch screen phone to me, as well as a tablet and a thin gold bracelet with a single pendant.
“A bracelet? How is that a device?”
“It is a GPS-SOS bracelet should you ever find yourself trapped or in need of help—serious help. You hold it for five seconds to get the attention of the guard, and we will know exactly where you are,” she said, and even though it sounded like something important and useful, part of me could not help but think of it as one of those ankle monitors they gave people on house arrest. A.k.a. you are free but not really.
“Please enter, miss, and see if there is anything else you need or if you wish to change,” Gelula said, opening the door into elegant, gold-embroidered, crystal chandelier splendor. The walls here were light yellow, which was different. There were also green chairs. The floor was hardwood, but a large carpet lay over it. In the corner was a fireplace, and above that, a faded spot on the wall from where, I could only assume, a portrait once was. The room smelled of vanilla too.
Stepping farther inside, I finally noticed the maids who were already unpacking my stuff. And I couldn’t find it in me to tell them to stop because I was tired. Especially mentally.
“Is it possible that I could be by myself for a few minutes?” I asked them both.
Gelula simply turned. “Miss Wyntor will have the room.”
The maids nodded, putting everything down and walking back out the doors.
“Should you need us, we shall be waiting outside the doors,” Thelma told me.
I waited for the doors to close before I immediately kicked off my heels. “Oh, thank God.” I groaned, stretching out my toes, which were happy to be on the flat ground again. Walking over to the bed, I put all the things down on the bedside table, and then I threw myself on top of the mattress. If I could have taken off my bra, it would have been heaven. Either way, it felt nice just to lay down and not have eyes on me.
I wanted to savor every last minute of it. However, I also knew I had to call my mother before I was dragged off for something else. Rolling over, I grabbed the phone, snickering at the screen saver—a photo of Gale in his full regalia. He really was something to look at.
Dialing her number, I prayed she answered. It rang only once.
“I have concluded that you don’t love me.”
“Mom! I’m sorry.” I groaned into the phone, rolling on to my back, and remembering what Gelula said about saying I was sorry. Either way, it was my mom, and I was sorry. “How did you know it was me?”