Chapter 2 - THE KING'S UNEXPECTED GUEST
“The transfer hasn't gone through,” the King's private secretary said. “But someone inside the palace has ordered the bank to release eighteen million pounds before sunset.”
I looked at the black motorcade outside my mother's little shop.
“Then you have less time than you think.”
Sir Edmund Vale studied me as though he couldn't decide whether I was remarkably calm or dangerously involved.
“Miss Hale, His Majesty has requested your immediate attendance.”
“Does His Majesty know about the forged signature?”
The secretary stopped breathing for a moment.
Behind him, two royal guards exchanged glances.
Finally, Sir Edmund said, “That is precisely why he wishes to see you.”
I turned back toward my sewing table.
Mother's blue coat lay beneath the lamp, its loose lining waiting for my needle. Beside it sat the little silver watch she had worn throughout my childhood.
She used to place it on the table whenever she was working late.
“Every stitch matters, Charlotte,” she would say. “Even the ones nobody sees.”
I slipped the watch into my pocket.
Then I locked the shop.
The drive to Bellmont Palace took twenty-three minutes.
I knew because I counted every one.
Outside the iron gates, thousands of people waved flags and held photographs of my sister.
VIVIENNE AND LUCIEN: A FAIRY-TALE WEDDING.
My photograph appeared nowhere.
That morning, Vivienne had been crowned the happiest woman in Bellmont.
Now I was arriving in an unmarked royal vehicle, wearing a gray skirt, sensible shoes, and Mother's old cardigan.
Sir Edmund noticed me looking at the crowds.
“Your sister has been informed that you are coming.”
I turned toward him.
“Why?”
“Prince Lucien requested that you be kept away from the wedding celebrations.”
The words struck harder than I expected.
Vivienne had told me she was ashamed of me.
Apparently, her husband agreed.
I looked out the window.
“Then perhaps you should take me home.”
“His Majesty overruled the prince.”
Sir Edmund hesitated.
“And Miss Hale? His Majesty specifically requested that you bring your mother's silver watch.”
My fingers tightened around it.
I had never mentioned the watch to anyone at the palace.
“How does the King know about that?”
Sir Edmund looked genuinely uncomfortable.
“He knew your mother.”
That answer raised more questions than it settled.
Inside the palace, attendants hurried through corridors filled with white flowers and gold ribbons.
Music drifted from the reception hall.
Then someone stepped into our path.
Vivienne.
My sister was still wearing her wedding gown, a magnificent ivory creation with thousands of hand-sewn pearls.
Our mother would have admired the stitching.
Vivienne would have hated hearing that.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
I stopped.
“Hello to you, too.”
Her eyes moved from my cardigan to my shoes.
“Charlotte, I warned you. You cannot turn up at my wedding looking like that.”
“I didn't turn up. I was brought here.”
“By whom?”
“The King.”
Her face changed.
For the first time in years, my beautiful, confident sister looked frightened.
“That's impossible.”
Sir Edmund stepped forward.
“Her Majesty's household has cleared Miss Hale's arrival. His Majesty is expecting her.”
Vivienne lowered her voice.
“You have no idea what you're interfering with.”
“I know somebody forged my signature.”
Her fingers closed around the diamond bracelet on her wrist.
“Not here,” she whispered.
I noticed the bracelet immediately.
Mother had owned a small gold locket shaped like a rose.
When she was worried, she rubbed her thumb over it.
Vivienne was doing exactly the same thing with her diamonds.
“Did you know about the transfer?” I asked.
She looked away.
Before she could answer, Prince Lucien appeared.
He was taller than he looked on television, handsome in a polished, carefully practiced way.
“Charlotte,” he said smoothly. “I believe we agreed you wouldn't attend.”
“We've never met.”
“Vivienne explained the situation.”
“Then you've heard one side.”
His expression hardened.
“My wife's family difficulties will not overshadow today's celebrations.”
I looked directly at him.
“Your private redevelopment project is trying to borrow eighteen million pounds against protected charitable assets. That's considerably more embarrassing than my cardigan.”
He stopped smiling.
Vivienne whispered, “Charlotte, please.”
But Lucien wasn't looking at her.
He was looking at Sir Edmund.
“Who authorized this woman to examine my financial arrangements?”
Sir Edmund answered quietly.
“His Majesty.”
Lucien's face went pale.
A door opened at the end of the corridor.
“Bring Miss Hale inside.”
The voice belonged to a silver-haired man standing beneath a portrait of Bellmont's former queen.
King Frederick.
He wore a dark suit rather than ceremonial robes.
His expression was tired.
But when he saw me, something softened.
“Charlotte,” he said.
Not Miss Hale.
Charlotte.
“You have your mother's eyes.”
I remained standing while everyone else bowed.
The King noticed, but he didn't seem offended.
“Please,” he said. “Come in.”
His private sitting room was much smaller than I expected.
There were books on the windowsills, family photographs on the mantel, and a little wooden rocking horse near the fireplace.
The King gestured toward a chair.
“Your mother once saved this family from a terrible mistake.”
I sat.
“Mother never mentioned anything like that.”
“She wasn't a woman who advertised the good she did.”
He looked at the silver watch in my hand.
“She wore that every day.”
“Yes.”
“She purchased it after refusing a royal gift.”
I stared at him.
The King opened a drawer and removed a faded photograph.
My mother stood outside an old brick building, surrounded by apprentices.
Beside her was a much younger King Frederick.
And between them stood a man whose face had been partly folded out of the picture.
“Your mother protected the Heritage Trust because she understood what it meant to belong somewhere,” the King said.
“Who is that man?”
He did not answer immediately.
Instead, he turned the photograph over.
Written in Mother's handwriting were five words.
FREDERICK. REMEMBER WHAT YOU PROMISED.
A chill passed through me.
“What did you promise her?”
The King's expression darkened.
“That no member of my family would ever use the trust for personal gain.”
He leaned forward.
“Charlotte, the transfer request was submitted using your credentials. But the royal authorization attached to it did not come from Lucien.”
I frowned.
“Then who authorized it?”
The King turned a computer screen toward me.
The electronic approval bore a name and an official seal.
OFFICE OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN HELENA.
I stared.
The Queen had personally authorized the release.
And beneath her approval was a second name.
Witness: Lady Vivienne Hale.
My sister hadn't merely known about the transfer.
She had signed it.
The King watched me absorb the truth.
May you like
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Charlotte, my wife has been missing for forty-seven minutes.”
