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)
The Queen’s nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath. She looks at me, and a raw vulnerability shines in her sharp gaze. “If you’re lying to me, young lady…”
“The day the rebels invaded the palace and the Crown Prince subsequently escaped his kidnapper, he was found by a young girl with blonde hair wearing blue shorts and a yellow t-shirt. They met in the woods where she’d been feeding a stray cat. It was a grey cat with one eye and a docked tail,” I say quietly. “The Crown Prince was wearing a red jumper, but he returned home without it, because he offered it to the girl when she was cold. She was told she’d be rewarded for helping him hide, and she was excited because the Queen promised she’d host her eighth birthday party—”
“—in the palace,” Crown Prince Finley echoes. “But she never got that party. She disappeared six months later.”
I press my lips together. “Did you at least go and feed the cat after she disappeared?”
He rubs his hand down his face, his eyes almost glassy with shock. “Better. He lived here for a year until he died of old age.”
“That’s good, at least.”
“Oh, God.” The Queen covers her face with her hands, resting her elbows on the table. “I can’t…”
Rowan whispers in her ear, then clears his throat and moves towards me. “Miss… Sinclair? Perhaps we should give Her Majesty some space. I’ll escort you to another room, if you don’t mind.”
I stand, and the chair seems to scream against the old hardwood floor as I push it back. “I’m sorry,” I say across the table.
She shakes her head, her face still hidden. Crown Prince Finley merely stares at me as if he’s seen a ghost, like he can’t quite believe the truth that’s just placed itself in front of him.
Rowan offers me a kind smile as he ushers me out of the room, and I throw one last glance over my shoulder before he closes the door behind me.
“Am I in trouble?” I ask quietly, walking alongside him.
“No. Far from it,” he replies. “Her Majesty has waited for this a long time. She merely needs to gather her emotions. I think it’s best you stay nearby for a little longer. I’m sure she or His Royal Highness will want to speak with you against today once they’ve accepted the news.”
I nod, and he leads me into a room that’s a little smaller than the one we were just in. It’s more of a living room than the dining-esque space we were just occupying.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. Someone will be outside the door if you need anything.” Rowan motions for me to sit down.
“Are they there to help me, or make sure I don’t disappear?”
He smiles, and a little chuckle escapes him. “Forgive me, miss, but you’ve already disappeared once—it’s best to keep tabs on you right now.”
“Fair enough.” I can’t help but return his smile, even though mine is a lot tighter than his. “Could someone bring my things? I’ll work on the portraits while I wait.”
He bows his head as he backs out of the room, and I take that as a yes.
The door clicks shut.
I lean back on the sofa, stare at the ceiling, and take the deepest breath I possibly can.
I did it.
I fucking did it.
CHAPTER EIGHT – FINN
The last time I saw my mother this distraught was when Francesca died.
Back then, I hadn’t fully understood it. I was only twelve, after all, and I’d never had to face any kind of loss myself. All I knew was that her friend had died, but my father’s explanation had changed my perception of their relationship.
He’d said there were three people in this world my mother would die for: him, me, and Francesca Sinclair. If he was her romantic soulmate, then Francesca was her platonic one. They’d been together their entire lives and losing her was to lose a piece of herself.
I remember how determined she’d been to find Francesca’s daughter, Harriet. How, despite there being a body presented to the Sinclairs as her and them burying her, they never believed it was actually Harriet. Everything happened so quickly, though, and even my mother couldn’t intervene at the time.
After Francesca died, she did everything she could to spark the investigation into Harriet’s disappearance. All I know is that nothing came of it.
The little girl who’d once helped me hide had, as my mother so perfectly put it not long ago, disappeared off the face of the Earth.
Still, she hoped. I knew she did. Everyone knew she had a piece of her heart left in that fight. Everyone knew that she refused to give up hope that one day, she’d come back.
And now, she had.
Inexplicably. Against all the odds.
Harriet Sinclair was here.
In our palace.
By chance.