Rule of The Monarch

Fifteen : The Man Behind The Mask

25 September

'Make us some tea would you?' Christopher cast a cursory glance at the passing servant. 'So,' he ushered them into the upstairs study. 'Where to begin?'

'You could start with this house.' Evelynn plopped into an armchair. 'You're the prince for crying out loud. How on earth has no one told the world of your existence?' It was a plain house, surprisingly, and matched each door on the street.

'A cheap house and an immeasurable salary for the staff. Does that answer your question?'

'A bit disappointing, but yes,' she accepted a cup of tea from the servant they had passed earlier. 'Thank you,' she mouthed.

'You look a bit too happy, Christopher,' Astor sipped his tea, all formalities gone as soon as the steaming pot arrived. 'You aren't upset over your father's death?'

'Isn't death just another part of life?' Christopher settled on the floor, crossed legged like a child compared to the rest. 'Besides, why should we dwell on death when we can discuss something much more interesting?'

'What topic do you have in mind?' Heather asked, declining her cup.

'Secrets, dear cousin. Particularly your friends,' he looked to Amelia. 'Perhaps our companions don't know, of course they don't. Miss Prescott here is a common thief. A pickpocket. A scammer.'

'So am I,' Heather defended.

'And an arsonist.' He was clearly satisfied at the sudden chaos apparent in their faces. 'Do you know why she lives with her aunt, Heather?' He relished her confusion. 'Her mother dumped her there. Do you know the fire seven years ago at the duke of Circe's cottage? Nearly killed twenty people. All over the news. Who do you think started it?'

'You can't prove that,' Amelia's cheeks flushed red. Heather would have dismissed it for embarrassment, and the beads of sweat for nervousness. If they hadn't come so quickly.

'Are you all right, Amelia?' Heather looked at her with concern. 'You look like you're coming down with a fever'

'I'm fine,' she said. 'I left my coat at the door. It's a bit colder than I thought.'

'Astor Hemingway, the perfect candidate for the throne,' Christopher switched victims with a smile on his lips. 'But you aren't a physician are you, Mr. Mortuary?' Each word slithered out, ready to strike. 'You live for the dead. You relish having your arms elbow deep in viscera don't you? Every night with the cold creeping down your spine, lifeless eyes staring into your own. Tell me, what do your parents think of that?' He eyed Astor's red face. 'But you've never told them have you? No, you tried. They never listened. You told them you were a physician to save face. Afraid of disappointing them yet again.'

'Christopher, what are you doing?'

'Ah cousin!' He clasped his hands together, standing now. 'You are the pièce de résistance. In fact, this might come as a surprise to you as well,' his grin contorted into a grimace. 'Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you your future queen, Heather Carlton, murderer.'

'No.' Porcelain crashed to the floor like the world around her, until she realised it wasn't from her hands.

'Amelia!' Heather cried as both Miss Prescott and Evelynn collapsed in their chairs. Glass splintered beneath her feet as she ran to them. 'A little help please, Mr. Hemingway?' Her fingers searched for a pulse. It was faint, but there with both ladies. Evelynn must be ill as well and Amelia more than she'd let on. Evelynn's eyes fluttered, but didn't open again. 'Astor?'

Heather looked around. He was sitting against the wall, his fist gripping his stomach and his face screwed up in pain.

'Help!' She screamed to anyone who would listen. 'Astor,' she ran to his wheezing, shaking person. The thought of poison flashed through her thoughts but was gone just as fast. He, Evelynn and Amelia were all losing their breaths, their faces splotchy and red.

'Astor Hemingway, you will not die on me,' she gripped his shoulders in the gentlest manner she could. 'Look at me,' she commanded, looking into the yellow flecks of his brown eyes. 'You're going to be fine,' Heather wasn't sure who she was reassuring. 'You have to.'

'Are you ordering that?' Astor mustered a weak chuckle.

'You're going to be fine. I dragged you into this,' she set him down on his side. 'And I am dragging you out even if it kills me.'

'You might want to be careful of what you say, cousin.' Her head turned to Christopher who was lounging on the windowsill, half his person outside. 'They say you should never eat anything a witch gives you,' he looked to the teapot. 'Or drink for that matter.'

'Why?' The single word tore a sob from her lips. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to find Christopher and bring him back to the palace. No one dead or poisoned, and certainly not a monster behind the mask of her loving cousin.

'Simple. I wanted to end this,' he motioned to the room, to the three lying unconscious on the floor. 'Seven centuries of pointless feuding between your family and his, bringing nothing but chaos to the throne. This is how we can finally right the mistakes of our ancestors. A new ruling,' he said. 'But you should know all about that. Who else are they going to blame after they find three bodies with the future queen? Afraid of competition, Heather Carlton kills another royal.'

'What did you do? What do you mean another royal?'

'No, the question is what did you do?'

'Don't play games with me Christopher!' She shook him out of madness. 'What did you do?' Tears stung her eyes as she glanced at the three, their wheezing breaths growing quieter as time passed. 'What did you give them?' she yelled frantically. She needed something to hold on to, something to control. If she could find a cure, it was more than she could hope for. 'Help me! What did you do?'

'What I had to,' he shrugged as she held on tighter to his coat, her eyes wild and scared. 'You'll make a fine queen Heather. Promise you'll remember me?'

'What—'

He forced himself out of her grasp and out the window, heading towards the city streets below. Her fingertips remained outstretched as they were, touching nothing but air.

Promise you'll remember me?

A/N

Soooooo.... what have I done? 

*internal screaming*

*laughs nervously* 

No, no. Don't go yet! There's an ending. Yes! An ending! What's that? No. When have I let you down? I'll just pop out for a bit and I'll have an ending ready soon, maybe. Until  then give the old author a comment or a vote, please? Thanks for sticking by!