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)
“It has become clear to me now that I was wrong to put my faith in any of you,” I grumbled through a clenched jaw.
“Sir—”
“No.” I held up my hand to stop them. “Do not give me any more excuses, Ambrose. I am tired of them, and I cannot be tired because it seems I will need all my energy to deal with the fact that I can longer trust the people within my own home. Thank you, you may all go.”
And they did.
It was only then that I sank back into my chair and closed my eyes. I didn’t know what to do, so I stopped doing anything, and even now, that was working against me. I had left for only two days to go to Helmfeld. I did so to give Odette space, actually. I worried that the next time I saw her, she’d have her bags in hand. I ran away that time, and the paper twisted it to make it seem as if I could not stand her, which then added fuel to the stupid rumor that I was in love with Sabina.
And to make matters worse, someone had found out about our past deal. Despite the fact that Odette did not want a crown and we had both agreed that this had long ago moved from just a marriage of convenience, lies blended with half-truths, spread by only God knew who. Everything was an utter mess. But the worst, most unbearable part was the fact that Odette and I hadn’t spent any time together since the garden party. We had barely spoken to each other. Dinners were now held in silence. She did her best to avoid me during breakfast, either coming early or late, and using her lessons as an excuse. And it was the best excuse of all because it was sanctioned with the help of my mother. She cared more about molding Odette into the future queen than helping me be with my wife. There was nothing I could do about it, either, but watch from a distance as she moved from one tutor to the next because if I did do something, someone in this palace would twist it so it would be Odette’s fault.
How could I rule a nation if I could not even get my own damn palace in order? I kept asking myself what Arty would do, but that only showed my lack of capability. I felt the urge to do so much, and yet I could do nothing but what I was told. And all I was told was to follow protocol.
Knock. Knock.
“Not now,” I muttered.
They waited for a moment before knocking again.
Sighing, I sat up straighter. “Yes, what is it?”
The door opened, and Balduin stepped in with a stack of folders in his arm. I fought the desire to groan and crawl under the table.
“Sir, I have come with today’s briefings on the Nationalism Reform Act. However...” His voice trailed off.
“However?” I pressed.
“I have just been informed that the king is asking for them.”
I exhaled slowly. Could there not be one good day anymore? Not even one? Rising from my seat, I put my jacket back on, fixing my cufflinks and the rest of my attire before going to the door.
“Where are you going, sir?” Balduin asked as I stepped into the hallway.
“I’m going to see the king,” I said as he followed behind me. “If he wishes to see today’s briefings, I shall be there as he does.”
“Is that wise?”
“No, it very well might not be,” I replied, walking up the stairs. “But what choice do I have? Show him fake ones like Arthur did. Did you prepare fake briefs?”
“Of course not. And Prince Arthur did not show him fake briefs; he showed the king past ones, sir. If you give me time, I can round up some from—”
“You are always telling me we are busy, and yet you wish to go waste time, looking for briefs from a year or two ago?”
“True, but sir, what are you going to do?”
“I do not know, Balduin.” I paused as we reached my father’s wing of the palace, shifting to look at the man beside me. “Maybe I will tell him the truth again. Maybe I won’t. Maybe he’ll kick me out of the room and ask for Arthur. I do not know, Balduin. But I’m going to see him nevertheless.”
I took the first folder from the stack of folders he was cradling to his chest like they were his children before walking down the hall to the door. Grabbing the handle, I inhaled deeply, adjusted my shoulders, and knocked.
When the door opened, I saw that my father was dressing in a suit and tie, adjusting his cufflinks as I had done earlier—like he had done a hundred thousand times in the past before getting ready to start his day. He looked so much like he had once looked. So much better that I glanced at the nurse waiting by the door with hope, only for her to shake her head and instantly destroy it. I nodded for her to leave.