Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
She checks the shiny watch on her left wrist, pauses, then nods. “Yes, we’re close enough.” She turns, fixing me with her dark gaze. “We’re on the way to the Royal Palace.”
I freeze, and hopefully she buys my faux shock. “The—the Royal Palace?”
“Yes.” She returns her gaze forwards. “You will be taking portraits of a member of the Royal Family today. Unfortunately, I am not permitted to divulge their identity. For that, you’ll have to wait until we’re there.”
“Oh.” I clasp my hands in my lap. “Thank you. How long will it be until we arrive?”
She eyes me through the rearview mirror. “Not long. There are security protocols you’re required to go through on your arrival. Your bags will be checked, and a female member of the team will give you a quick pat down. It should have all been explained to you already, but I can recap it if you’d like.”
I nod. “It’s fine, I recall it from the emails. Thank you, though.”
“Very well.”
“When I get my phone back? Just in case I get calls from a client, that’s all.”
“You should be able to get it back once we’ve arrived and your clearance has been granted. As long as you make sure location services are turned off.”
“Oh, that’s fine. They’re always off.” I turn to look out of the window.
There’s no-one in my life who ever cares to know where I am.
CHAPTER SIX – HATTIE
The Royal Palace is one thousand times more intimidating than I recall.
Probably because as a child it was a place of magic and wonder. It was the home of fairytales, of ballgowns and dancing and tiaras and all the wonderous things one saw from the outside.
As an adult, I know what it really means.
Power. Corruption. Secrecy.
It’s a symbol and a threat, something to be both revered and feared.
The secrets that lie behind its walls are the kinds that many take to their graves, and it’s been that way for hundreds of years. Most have been forgotten by now, and the ghosts left behind are nothing but legends and whispers, saved by the fact that dead men tell no tales.
The car pulls up to some concealed gates, and we’re waved through by two armed policemen. My heart squeezes a little at the sight of their guns, but I tamper down the swirl of emotion.
I’m so close.
I can barely believe I’m here. Inside the grounds of the Royal Palace. The one place I never thought I’d be able to step foot in.
The one place my true name can be spoken outside of the prison I call a house.
I just need a miracle.
A true, honest to God miracle.
But those things don’t happen to me. And if they did, I’d say I already exhausted my one designated miracle when I ran into Crown Prince Finley at the park.
I’m ushered out of the car and into a small wing of the palace. The security protocols are exactly as I was told, and they don’t take long, either. In less than ten minutes, I have my bags back, and I’m being hurried down a long hallway with no time at all to take in my surroundings.
The woman from the car is a few steps ahead of me, and another two security personnel are behind me. I’m completely surrounded, as I knew I would be, and this really does reinforce my need for a miracle.
Alas, the sky doesn’t open. There’s no miraculous shooting of lightning in my path. No bugs, no floods, no whatever else it is that generally shakes things up on a biblical level.
Shame.
“This is the room you’ll be shooting in today,” the woman from the car says. “You can go in and get things set up, and someone will let the… client… know you’re here.”
I smile warmly at her and look around the huge room. It’s right out of a fairytale—painted ceiling, gilded walls, rich antique furniture that’s probably priceless. It’s by far the most regal setting I’ve ever taken photos in.
“Thank you,” I say quietly to the woman. “And I’m sorry, but I’ve been very rude. I never asked for your name.”
She blinks at me as if it’d never occurred to her that I’d do such a thing. “Sophia.”
“Well, thank you, Sophia.” I set my bags down and smile again. “Will you be staying the whole time?”
“I believe that’s the plan, yes.”
“Would you mind helping me at all? I’d like to move some of the furniture for better lighting, and—”
“Oh, we have that taken care of.” She pulls a phone out of her pocket and dials, then holds it to her ear and turns away. She says something quickly into it before turning back to me. “Assistance is on the way. They should have been here already. I apologise, Miss Porter. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”