A Game of Crowns

The ability to ask questions is the greatest resource in learning the truth.

-Carl Jung

“My lady, you need to wake up,” said a voice. I grumbled a reply not wanting to wake up.

“My lady, you need to wake up NOW.”

Her insistence pulled me through the hazy layers of my sleepiness.

“What is it Georgiana?”

“The palace is under attack. We need to move.”

Her eyes were wide and her skin was slightly pale. I jumped out of bed. Who was attacking the palace? Was it the same people who murdered the royal family? Apprehension spread through me. My thin nightgown did nothing to protect against the chill coming through the open door. Georgiana handed me a robe. I quickly pulled it on.

“What do we do?” I asked her.

She rushed out of the room motioning me to follow her.

I asked again, “What do we need to do, Georgiana?”

“We need to head to one of the panic rooms. Its fully stocked with food and water.”

My mind was reeling. The palace had been prepared for something like this. Why were we not told something like this could happen? Better yet, why had I not thought of it? Someone had gotten into the palace and murdered the royal family, after all.

We ran through the halls. All the doors for my fellow participants were thrown open. They were gone. Why had it taken Georgiana so long to wake me?

We came to a stop in front of a large portrait hanging in the hall of pictures and paintings. It was the same hall from the day I arrived. We were near an entrance. I was tempted to run outside and see the commotion.

“Have they entered the place?”

“No, my lady. There are only skirmishes at the edges of the nearby forest. This is a precaution in case they make it indoors.”

I stopped asking questions and paid attention to what she was doing.

She struggled to remove the painting from the wall. It was King Stefan, the first of his name. The first King to be chosen by the Priestess Xandra. He was one of the first to allegedly see the Hidden Realm.

I helped her pull the painting off the wall. Behind was a steel door with a numeric key pad. She punched in the key code too quickly for me to see. We both pulled open the door; it being too heavy for one person to do alone. At least one woman alone, unless the woman was really strong. I wasn’t very strong and neither was Georgiana. We rushed inside. Georgiana and I were the only ones here.

The room was small. It held four cots, cabinets with supplies, and water for two weeks. The room smelled like fresh pine as if it was just recently cleaned. There was one door in the room, to the right of the entrance. It led to a toilet and sink. Thank the Priestess for running water.

A small window the size of a book was situated on the back wall. I could see a small skirmish by the gates. I could hear gunfire going off in the distance. What was going on out there? I hoped no one would get hurt.

“My lady, I need to leave you here. I have other tasks that need to get done,” she said shuffling to the steel monstrosity. I’ll pull and you push so we can get the door closed. If this door opens be prepared just in case.”

“But Georgiana, stay with me. What about your safety?” I asked incredulously.

“I am but a servant to the Crown. My life is forfeit. I’ll come back when I can.”

She paused, looked at me strangely, and continued, “Thank you, Penelope; for caring for my safety.”

She turned and began to pull at the door. I hurried to help her. I wished she had stayed, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to change her mind. I heard the click as the door was shut properly.

I paced the room thirty-six times. I was going stir crazy not knowing what was going on or if Georgiana was alright. I looked out the window but I could no longer see bodies fighting by the gate. What I did see made me wish I hadn’t glanced out. There were bodies scattered on the ground. The motionlessness was an obvious tell of the state of their life. They were dead.

It was on the thirty-ninth pass around the room when the door was being pushed open. I squealed, scanning the room for a weapon I could use. I picked up a flash light. It was a heavy metal one. A well place hit on the head would knock anyone out. I quickly turned out the lights.

I stood behind the door waiting for the intruder to enter. I needed to render them unconscious on the first try. Who knows what would happen if I missed. I was no match for anyone with a stich of fighting knowledge or anyone with a gun.

My heartbeat thundered in my chest. It threatened to claw its way out from behind my rib cage. The fear was agony. The wait terrible. Why in all that is holy did I turn out the lights? I whimpered. Ugh, I needed to get a hold of my terror. I took a steadying breath and waited.

The door was finally open. I believed it was a man who pushed it ajar; if the grunting noises were to be believed. The man finally appeared from the other side of the door. I shrieked as I hit his head with the flashlight. He fell to a knee holding the side of his head.

“Ugh,” he groaned.

“Stay away,” I whispered. I couldn’t find my voice.

I ran around him and turned on the lights.

I gasped.

“Tobias.”

He looked up at me from the floor with unbelieving eyes.

“You hit me.”

Uh...

“Whoops,” I said with raised shoulders.

He stood up slowly.

“Help me close the door, will you?”

I rushed to help him.

He had a harder time closing the door than he did opening it. He helped some, but he was shaky from the hit to the head. I had to do most of the work. He just let his body lean against the door and shoved as much as possible.

With the door finally shut I could look at him properly. His hair was dishelved and his clothes were wrinkled. He had come here straight from bed as well.

His jaw tensed as he ran his hand across the side of his head. I had given him a good wallop to the head. He sat down on a cot, leaned his face into the palm of his hand while his elbow was propped on his knee.

He was gorgeous even now in his pajamas. It was easy to lose myself in watching him. His eyes were shut. It allowed my eyes free access to roam his face. They strayed to his mouth. The fullness of his lips was enticing. I wondered what it would be like to kiss them. To feel the heat of his breath against my skin. I bit my lip imagining the feel of his mouth. His lips had my full attention.

So, when he said, “Are you done gawking?“, I was sure he was speaking aloud and the humiliation didn’t just happen in my head.

“In your dreams, Hart.”

“No more like you wish you were in my dreams, Penelope.”

Ugh, there he went using my full name again. It almost made me forget what I was saying. My name on his tongue was a weapon in itself.

His smirk let me know he knew the effect my name from his lips had on me. I was about to roll my eyes, feigning the opposite, but instead I did this.

“Yes, Tobias. I need you. Take me now. Here on this floor,” I said kneeling on the floor in front of him, holding his forearms.

He raised an eyebrow, “You’re messing with me, right?”

I don’t know what got into me as I said that and I don’t know what got into me when I said this, “Does it look like I’m messing with you?”

I ran a finger from the top of his neck to his chest. I gave him what I thought sultry eyes would look like. It seemed like I succeeded. His Adams apple jumped as he swallowed roughly.

I laughed, “Of course, I’m messing with you, Tobias.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Be glad you pulled that tease act with me and not some of the other participants in the competition. They all wouldn’t have allowed you off with a laugh. Especially from your Lucas, from what I hear.”

“He isn’t MY Lucas,” I scoffed.

“He certainly likes to think you’re HIS LUCKY Penny.”

I blushed, “Jealous?”

“Again, only in your dreams, Penelope.”

“Damn it, stop calling me Penelope.”

“I thought you liked it,” he smirked, “You do, don’t you?”

“Get over yourself, Tobias.”

He held up his hands in surrender. He groaned. He laid down slowly on the cot.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m woozy is all.”

“Sorry about that,” I said sheepishly.

“Don’t be. You were protecting yourself. You never know, especially with what happened here. Traitors can be around every corner.”

I nodded.

He had closed his eyes. I laid down in the cot next to him contemplating his words. The people who attacked today, were they the ones who murdered the royal family? Or was it someone else?

“Hey Tobias.” I propped myself up on an elbow facing him.

“Mmmm?”

“When you said Thelonious killed your family...were you being truthful?”

He opened his eyes and stared at me. He hesitated for a moment before answering.

“I was. He’s a dangerous man, Penelope. I was serious when I said you should stay away.”

A part of me knew he was serious. Thelonious did come off as charming but in a sly way. He was a wily one.

“Tobias...Who was your family? Why would Thelonious want them dead?”

At that question, he hesitated again for a longer period of time.

“Because, my father was King Stefan. I’m the bastard of the king.”