Henfordshire, Countryside
The afternoon summer sun shone across the rolling hills of Henfordshire, casting a warm, golden hue over the idyllic countryside. The air was filled with the scent of blooming wildflowers and the distant sound of birdsong. She darted into an abandoned farm shed, her heart racing with excitement, barely able to stifle a giggle as she hid behind a stack of old hay bales. The shed, though dilapidated, had a rustic charm, with beams of sunlight filtering through the gaps in the wooden walls, creating a dance of light and shadow.
Clutching his phone, which she had playfully snatched to ensure he would chase her, she waited for him to find her. Minutes ticked by, and when he didn’t appear, curiosity got the better of her. She unlocked the phone and began scrolling through the photos. Her giggles faded into a warm smile as she discovered countless candid shots of herself, each one capturing moments she hadn’t realized he cherished. She peeked out from her hiding spot, when there was still no sign of Liam, she continued snooping, found nothing interesting, aside from a photo of his graduation from the military academy, showing him looking handsome in the uniform along his mates. Then came the realization that he should have found her by now, it brought a twinge of concern.
Leaving her hiding spot, she wandered through the abandoned farm, calling out his name. The old barn creaked in the gentle breeze, and the scent of wildflowers filled the air. She walked past rusted farming equipment and overgrown weeds, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and worry. Finally, she spotted his shoes peeking out from behind a stack of hay bales. Grinning, thinking he had the same idea as she had, hiding himself, she approached quietly, ready to scare him for taking so long, then, laughing hard, she jumped around the bales yelling, “Boo!”
This didn’t even make him wince, her shoulders sagged, she pouted.
“Wow, not even a twitch? Fine then, be that way. I am keeping your phone… lots and lots of highly interesting information on here.”
Thinking it was a ruse to pay her back, she pretended to walk away, but worry gnawed at her.
After a few steps and realizing he still hadn’t stirred, she went back. Kneeling down next to him, poking him gently, she whispered, “If this is just a trick to kiss me, you’re in big trouble, Lord Kensington. Liam? LIAM? Liam, stop, it’s not funny anymore!” She gently flipped him over and gasped, seeing the blood, his head just rolling over. He was clearly unconscious and had a gaping head wound.
Her scream pierced the tranquil afternoon.
Immediately, she pressed her hands onto his wound, then the bottom of her cardigan, while frantically calling his name, patting his cheek, until realizing she couldn’t wake him up.
“HELP! Someone… anyone… Please…” she sobbed hard. After a moment of shock, she fumbled with his phone to call for help. With shaky hands, she typed in the emergency number, but before she could say anything, a black bag was thrust over her head, and something pressed against her face. She dropped his phone, the emergency attendant calling out, until someone stepped on the phone, with a crunch silencing it. Darkness enveloped her as she passed out.
Cromwell Palace, Henfordshire
The search for Victoria had led the local police to the abandoned farm through the GPS signal from the abandoned emergency call, which always had to be investigated. They found Liam barely conscious, with a severe concussion and multiple bruises, cracked ribs, an ankle injured in the fight he had put up, but alive. He was able to alert them that Victoria had been with him and was evidently missing. As he was rushed to the hospital, the investigation ran on red alert. Perimeters were created, search parties put together, but not even the slightest hint of the princess.
Back at the palace, the atmosphere was tense. The royal guards, local police, and Barrett Security personnel, a private security firm owned by one of the queen’s aunts, were all mobilized in the search for Victoria after the police informed the royal house about the emergency call and their findings.
Evidence at the scene pointed to Lord John Montfort-Yates, the kings oldest and dearest friend, as the prime suspect. He was brought in for questioning, then subsequently arrested as he couldn’t produce a proper alibi, and the evidence was suffocating.
The Royal Henfordian Prison was in an uproar. Prison guards, police officers, and royal guards filled the corridors, their voices echoing off the stone walls. King Max strode through the chaos, his face a mask of controlled fury. He was led to a dimly lit cell where his former best friend, Lord John, sat shackled on arms and legs.
John looked up, his eyes filled with desperation. “Max, I swear to you, I didn’t do this. I love you like a brother. You have to believe me. I would never hurt you or your family. Max, you know me, mate!”
Max’s eyes were cold as he replied, “Oh, I’m sure you do love me, as Cain loved Abel,” His voice was laced with bitterness. “Where is Victoria? What have you done with her? And why?”
John shook his head vehemently. “I don’t know! I had nothing to do with this. Please, Max, you have to believe me.”
Max’s heart ached with the weight of betrayal. He wanted to believe his friend, but the evidence was damning. “If you truly care about me, about my family, you’ll tell me where she is. If you want to ever get out of prison again, I suggest you cooperate. I will remind you that I have the power to decide over inmates’ fates. Normally, I stay out and let the professionals make such decisions, but in your case, I will be the one deciding, you best believe it. So? Where is my daughter? Speak man!”
John’s eyes filled with tears as he labored up and approached the king, falling to his knees before him, lifting his hands as if begging for mercy. “I don’t know, Max. I swear on my life, I don’t know, mate.” He reached out, his hand trembling. Max stepped back, his face a mask of disbelief and rage. Then, in a rare moment of lost composure, he grabbed his old friend’s collar, pulling him up with seemingly superhuman strength, slamming his face into the metal bars, holding him there with a fierce grip.
“WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?! How can you be so cruel?” Max’s voice was a raw, desperate roar, echoing through the cell.
“I… don’t… argh… know…” Lord John labored out, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to speak.
With a disgusted huff, Max released him, then punched him hard, causing John to stumble and crash to the ground, hitting his head on the cell wall. The sound of the impact was sickening, and for a moment, the cell was silent except for John’s labored breathing.
“I hope you suffer as much as my daughter has to! And as much as we have to,” Max hissed, his voice dripping with venom. He turned away, his mind racing with a mix of fury and despair. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Victoria’s life was at stake. As he left the cell, he ordered the guards to continue the search for any clues that might lead them to her.
Once in the limousine on the way back to the royal palace, Max raised the privacy screen, then collapsed into the backseat. His shoulders shook with silent sobs, until his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. By the time he exited the car at the palace, he looked a shadow of his former self. He inhaled deeply, trying to compose himself as he entered. His private assistant and advisor, Sir Reginald, approached him with a grave expression.
“Your Majesty, I am afraid the queen has had a severe nervous breakdown and has been taken to the hospital. The doctor has advised against rushing to her side, as she has been given a sedative and is currently resting. His Royal Highness Prince William refuses to eat or leave his room, and the two younger princesses have been inconsolable all afternoon but have now finally fallen into an exhausted slumber. I am truly sorry, Your Majesty.”
Max’s heart sank further. The weight of his family’s suffering was almost too much to bear. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Reginald.”
Once inside his private quarters, Max locked the door and fell onto his bed, burying his face in a pillow. The sobs that wracked his body were uncontrollable, raw, and filled with a desperation he had never known. He screamed into the pillow, the sound muffled but still echoing in the silence of the room. His mind was a whirlwind of despair and hopelessness. He had lost his beloved daughter and his most dear friend, and the weight of it all was crushing him.
Hours later, when he finally emerged, his face was pale and drawn, his eyes hollow. He looked at Sir Reginald, who had been waiting patiently. “We must find her, Reginald. We must,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“We will, Your Majesty. We will,” Sir Reginald replied, his voice steady and reassuring, though his own heart was heavy with worry.
Meanwhile, Victoria’s disappearance remained a mystery, as if she had vanished into thin air without a trace. Hours turned into a day, the day turned into days, and the search efforts intensified, but none returned any results. After the first 12 hours following the realization that Victoria had been taken, Max and Aria-Grace had to face the grim reality that after the initial 24 hours, the chances of finding someone alive dwindled drastically with each passing hour, as days turned into weeks.
The royal family was in turmoil, and the media frenzy only added to their distress. Not even a ransom demand had been received, and no group had claimed responsibility. The palace, usually a symbol of stability and grandeur, now felt like a fortress of despair.
The two younger princesses were constantly sad and uninterested in play, their laughter replaced by tears. Crown Prince William, who had always been close with Victoria, more like best friends than siblings, barely ate or slept. He was losing weight at an alarming rate, and the usually enthusiastic rider hadn’t mounted his favorite horse, Imperial, since his sister went missing.
Max and Aria-Grace were consumed by worry and guilt, their hearts heavy with the fear of never seeing their daughter again. Max, usually a pillar of strength, found himself breaking down in private moments, while Aria-Grace, known for her grace and composure, struggled to hold back tears in public. Their once vibrant and joyful family was now shrouded in sorrow, each member grappling with the pain of Victoria’s absence.
The days ticked on mercilessly, surpassing the two week mark now …
Somewhere in the Henfordshire countryside ...
A dark figure stumbled through the night, the cold air biting at her skin. She wore only a thin, tattered dress that offered no protection against the elements, and was barefoot. The forest was alive with strange sounds and shadows, and every rustle of leaves made her heart race. She stumbled through the underbrush, her sobs echoing in the darkness, her vision blurred by tears.
She tripped over a root, falling hard to the ground. Pain shot through her body as she lay there, too exhausted and weak from weeks of barely eating. She cried into the soft forest floor, feeling utterly defeated. Just as she was about to give up, she blinked her eyes and saw porch lights flickering in the distance. Civilization.
With a surge of hope, she struggled to her feet, her legs trembling. She ran towards the lights, her breath coming in ragged gasps. As she got closer, her heart leapt with hope as she recognized the small farmhouse. She ran towards it, her legs trembling with exhaustion. She reached the door and began pounding on it with all her remaining strength.
Inside, the residents were startled awake by the persistent banging. A toddler boy began to cry, frightened by the noise. Lights flickered on, and a red-headed woman in her thirties tore open the door, cursing in Irish Gaelic. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw the figure.
“Jack!” she screamed, as she steadied the weakened, filthy and bleeding princess, gently guiding her into the house. Izzy’s voice was filled with urgency. Her husband came running down the stairs, carrying their son Cody, his face a vision of pure shock. He set the boy down quickly and stepped towards Victoria just in time to catch her as she collapsed into his arms.
“Jack,” the young princess whispered, a look of relief washing over her face before she lost consciousness.
Jack picked her up and gently placed her onto their couch, kissing her forehead and cooing softly to her. “It’s okay, Vic, you’re safe now. What in tarnation happened to you, sweet girl? You’re skin and bones, bloody and filthier than a hog in a mud pit! You’re safe now, sweet baby girl,” he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. He looked up at his wife. “Izzy, get me the phone, now!”
With their toddler in her arms, she ran to fetch the phone and handed it to Jack, then proceeded to place a blanket over the princess. Jack dialed quickly and yelled into the receiver, “AG, pack up Max and git yerselves over here immediately. Bring yer court doctor, and the cops too, I got Vic! She’s alive!”
After a quick, provisional clean-up, Victoria was dressed in Izzy’s tracksuit. She was too exhausted for a shower, but the senior officer who arrived with her parents and older brother William was insistent that Victoria make a statement right away so action could be taken before the perpetrators realized she had escaped and might flee themselves.
Victoria sat in the small, cozy living room of Jack and Izzy’s farmhouse, wrapped in a warm blanket. Chief Inspector Harris, a kind-faced woman, sat across from her, a notebook in hand. The royal guards, in their splendid uniforms, stood at the door and around the house, their imposing presence a stark contrast to the homely surroundings. Police officers were also present, adding to the sense of urgency and security.
Victoria’s parents, King Maximilian and Queen Aria-Grace, stood in the nearby kitchen, their regal attire looking out of place in the rustic setting. Jack, the former cowboy and dear friend to Aria-Grace and Max, stood right next to them, equally shocked and appalled. His wife, Isobel (Izzy), who was raised with the idea that royals are untouchable and larger than life, stood slightly behind him, still taken aback by her husband’s casual closeness to the royal family. They all watched from the kitchen, peeking around the door, their faces etched with concern.
Crown Prince William, who had always been close with Victoria, sat next to her, his arm wrapped around his sister, his face etched with concern.
“Your Royal Highness, can you describe the place where you were held? Did you see anything when they brought you there or when you left?” Chief Inspector Harris asked gently.
Victoria took a sip of her tea with hands so shaky that William had to steady the cup. Suddenly, she set the cup down hard and started to cry. Izzy quickly buzzed in with a roll of paper towels, handing them to Victoria, after cleaning up, she looked up again. “I was so scared. I thought I was going to die. They… they were evil. EVIL! They took my clothes away, sprayed me down with ice-cold water from a garden hose, then made me wear that terrible dress you found me in. I was always freezing. They made me scrub the toilet with a small dishrag, and I had to hand scrub the floors on my hands and knees using the dress and cardigan I had been wearing. They still had Liam’s blood on them. Oh my God, Liam! Is he all right?” she panicked.
The inspector nodded, and William told her, “He is okay, Vic, I went to see him. He’ll make a full recovery.”.
She nodded, exhaling, visibly relieved and calming, before she continued, “They fed me terrible unidentifiable gruel from a dog bowl, I didn’t want to eat that, it was positively horrid, but they tied me up, one held my nose, and when I opened my mouth to breathe, another shoved in the food. If I didn’t cooperate with their demands, or if I couldn’t stop crying, they would slap me, kick me, or pull my hair. I had to sleep on the cold stone floor. Once, I had to kiss their feet. It was… it was horrible. I don’t know how long I was there, but it felt like an eternity. Years really. Will, how long was I gone for? What’s the date? I don’t even know.”
William grimaced, listing the current date, sighing. “You were gone for two whole weeks, two days and how ever many hours into today we are, Vic. It felt like an eternity to us as well. Especially since she,” William pointed at the Chief Inspector, “told us after 24 hours the chances of finding you were… well…” William couldn’t finish, his voice breaking.
“That is more the rule than the exception, unfortunately,” the inspector interjected, her tone somber yet professional. “I don’t believe in instilling unreasonable expectations in those with missing relatives, only to have them cling to unreasonable hope and then crash even harder if the worst comes to pass. A sad and dire truth, not intended to discourage or make a terrible situation worse. Your Highness, did you see any details? Can you describe your captors? Any details help. How many? Male? Female?”
Victoria stopped crying for a moment, looking up at the inspector, trying to steady herself.
“Describe them? I don’t have to, Chief Inspector, I saw them. I saw their faces. I know them. I am telling you, inspector, they weren’t going to let me go, so they didn’t care that I knew it was them. They were going to torture and humiliate me until they grew bored of playing their cruel games with me, then they would just leave me there to die. I know it, as they openly spoke about it. I kept trying to get out every night after they left, and last night one of them didn’t tighten my tied hands, and the door was left unlocked. At first I thought it was a trap, but I took my chances. I thought you already knew who did this,” she sniffled, then spoke three names that took everyone’s breath away.
Queen Aria-Grace gasped, grabbing King Max’s hand and squeezing it tightly. Both swallowed hard, their faces pale as their daughter listed the names of those responsible for her ordeal, while Jack cursed quietly next to them. William paled, his mouth agape, and he reacted mechanically, patting her back when his sister flung herself into his arms, sobbing against his shoulder.
Chief Inspector Harris leaned forward, gently rubbing the princess’ back, her expression serious. “Thank you, Princess, for your kind cooperation. You have helped us a lot. Justice will be done.”
Cromwell Palace, Henfordshire
Once back at the palace, Max already got the call that arrests had been made.
The investigation was led by the Royalty and Specialist Protection unit of the Royal Police, with support from the Crown Intelligence Bureau (CIB).
The Royal Grand Hall, usually a place of opulence and tranquility, had been turned into a pop-up unit base and was now filled with the tense energy of officers and agents moving purposefully recording and evaluating evidence.
In her private chambers, Victoria was soaking in a hot bath, the air filled with steam and lavender-scented bubbles. Her mother entered, kneeling next to the tub, gently running a sponge across Victoria’s back and kissing her forehead, careful to avoid the countless injuries and bruises scattered all over the young princess’ body.
“My angel, you’ve been in here for almost two hours. You’ll disintegrate,” she smiled, getting up to fetch a towel.
She cringed when Victoria raised her feet casually onto the sides of the tub, revealing deep cuts, wounds, and raw blisters from running barefoot through the forest. Her mother’s heart ached at the sight, noticing also how much weight Victoria had lost in just two weeks.
“Mama, you have no idea how good this feels. I really wished you and Papa would have heeded my request not to be present when I was giving my statement to the police. You were hurting already, because I am a silly goose and didn’t listen to you about not venturing out without guards. We all did, William, Vivienne, well, Veronica hasn’t. Hopefully they all learned to mind you better. I will from now on, promise.”
“Oh sweetheart,” Aria-Grace ran her hand across her daughter’s cheek, biting back all thoughts of ‘I told you so’, overwhelmed by the fact that her little girl was back home and safe. “My little big girl, you’ve been so brave.”
She helped her daughter out of the tub, wrapping her in the towel and then enveloping her in a warm embrace. “I’m so proud of you, my brave girl,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “You’re safe now, and we’ll never let anything happen to you again. But you really need sleep now. The doctor insisted you take a prescription he left for you, so let’s get you to bed.”
***
At breakfast the next morning, Victoria’s brother William and her two younger sisters kept piling food onto her plate until she laughed and held up her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! If you keep this up, I’ll need a new wardrobe, and the palace seamstresses will be working overtime!” She turned to William with a playful glint in her eye. “Besides, William, you should be eating all this. You know you’re more charming when you’re not just a bag of bones.”
William grinned and shot back, “Well, having my sister go missing turned out to be quite the appetite suppressant.” He reached over and took the slice of toast Victoria had just buttered and spread jam on from her plate, taking a big bite right in front of her face.
Victoria gasped in mock outrage and tossed a grape at him. William caught it mid-air and popped it into his mouth, laughing.
The room filled with the warmth and laughter that had been missing for so long, bringing a sense of normalcy back to the family.
William smiled at her, his eyes reflecting relief and affection. “It’s so good to see you smile.” He leaned over and kissed Victoria’s cheek.
Princesses Vivienne and Veronica followed suit, sliding off their chairs, their little arms wrapping around their sister. Their parents traded knowing glances when Victoria winced in pain, her poor bruised body aching, but she didn’t let on, hugging all three of her siblings back.
“You guys have no idea how happy I am to be able to hug you again,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe I found you both annoying at times. And you too, Will. You are such a sight for sore eyes,” she told her little sisters.
William smirked, “Give them time, they’ll change your mind. They’re still annoying. And I never was, you’re just confused.” He received stuck-out tongues from both younger princesses, while Victoria stuck a slice of orange in his mouth. William worked it around to become a ‘smile,’ making all three of his sisters giggle with his grimaces and his ‘orange slice smile.’ Even their parents just laughed, King Maximilian putting his hand on his wife’s, squeezing it. Normally he would have called the kids to order by now, but not today.
Suddenly, the double doors at the far end of the room swung open, and the butler, Mr. Alfred Pembroke, entered with a dignified air putting an immediate stop to the siblings’ playfulness. His uniform was immaculate, with crisp lines and a perfectly tied bow tie. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his posture was as straight as a soldier’s. Clearing his throat softly, he approached the royal family, then bowed briefly.
“Apologies, Your Majesties. Her Royal Highness, Princess Victoria, has a visitor.”
The king grimaced. “Who? She’s barely been back for mere hours. Is it Jack? It better not be those awful press vultures wanting an interview. My patience with them runs thin. I might borrow one of the guards’ bayonets and turn those nosy blighters into shish kebabs!”
“No, your Majesty, it’s the Viscount of Old Henford, Your Majesty, Lord Liam Kensington.”
Victoria placed her napkin next to her plate, her eyes lighting up with excitement before she quickly composed herself. Smiling, she pushed back her chair. “I wish to see him, please,” she said, her voice steady but with a hint of eagerness.
The king sighed, his reluctance evident. “Very well then, see the young Lord in, please, Pembroke.”
The butler bowed and stepped out. Moments later, Liam appeared, leaning on crutches. The room fell silent, the cheerful atmosphere replaced by a strange anticipation.
Victoria rushed to him, about to hug him, but stopped short, her eyes widening as she took in his appearance. He had a black eye, a bandage covering a gash on his forehead, and bruises visible on his arms. His movements were stiff, likely from bruised ribs, and he leaned heavily on the crutches due to a sprained ankle. “Oh no!” she whispered, gently touching the bandage.
“It looks worse than it is, but I won’t ask you to ride out anytime soon. Actually, to be perfectly honest, that was a lie, it feels much worse than it looks,” he said with a smile, eliciting chuckles from the others.
“Come, sit!” Victoria urged, pulling out a chair and trying to help him onto it.
“A place setting for the young Viscount, please,” Queen Aria-Grace ordered, but Liam declined.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, and thank you, Your Highness, but I have already eaten. Victoria, may I speak with you alone for just a moment?”
“Oh, I don’t think that is necessary… just speak, young man,” King Maximilian interjected, his concern as a father overshadowing his royal demeanor. His daughter had been missing for two weeks, and he wasn’t keen on letting her out of his sight just yet.
“Papa!” Victoria shot him a glare, which softened. “May we please use your study for a moment?”
King Maximilian sighed, his reluctance evident. “Fine, but the guards will stay outside. Make it speedy.”
Bowing politely, despite his injuries, Liam followed Victoria across the entrance hall into her father’s study. The grand entrance hall was adorned with marble floors that gleamed under the soft light filtering through the high windows. Each step they took echoed through the vast space, the sound of Victoria’s delicate footsteps mingling with the rhythmic thud of Liam’s crutches.
The room was filled with the scent of old books and polished wood, a sanctuary of wisdom and authority. Victoria shut the door, then turned to him, smiling. In the hopeless romantic’s mind, he was going to theatrically proclaim his feelings for her now, plead for her to love him back and only him. Normally, in this imaginary setting in her head, he might even fall to his knees, but clearly that wouldn’t happen this time due to his injuries. Then he would grab her and kiss her, a kiss into which she would melt like…
“I enlisted with the Royal Guard,” Liam said, his voice steady despite the pain evident in his eyes.
Victoria’s idyllic romantic moment came to a screeching halt. Her smile froze, and she stared at him in genuine shock, her mind struggling to process his words. The imaginary bubble of romance she had been floating in burst harshly, leaving her feeling disoriented and confused.
“I wanted to ensure that what happened to you never happens again,” he added, unaware of the turmoil his words had caused in her heart.
Victoria’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and admiration filling them. “The Royal Guard? But that’s…”
“Yes,” he interrupted gently, “it’s a significant commitment. But after what happened, I felt it was the right thing to do.”
Victoria’s eyes flickered with concern. “But what about your injuries? You were knocked unconscious during my abduction, had a gaping head wound, I had your blood all over my hands and my clothes trying to help you, I was told you had a concussion. And now you’re on crutches…”
Liam nodded; his expression serious. “Just a sprained ankle. Painful as anything but not so serious. The doctors say it will heal quickly, just need to stay off it for a while. I can start my training with the Royal Guard right away, which is why I came here, interrupting your first meal with your family, apologies for that, by the way. Until I am cleared by the physician, I will be focusing on learning the rules and regulations at Regalwood Barracks, where the Royal Guards are trained. Once I’m fully healed, I’ll complete the physical training and then be assigned to my new position.”
Victoria’s heart pounded in her chest. The thought of Liam leaving so soon, even for such a noble cause, was almost too much to bear. She took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure as she had been taught, but the emotions were too overwhelming. Before she could stop herself, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
“Please, Liam, don’t go,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you again.”
The sudden movement caused Liam to lose his balance, and they both tumbled to the ground in a heap. The sound of their fall echoed through the study, and within moments, the door burst open as the guards rushed in, weapons drawn.
“Your Highness! Are you alright?” one of the guards exclaimed, his eyes wide with alarm.
Victoria, her face flushed with embarrassment, looked up from where she was sprawled on top of Liam. “Yes, yes, we’re fine,” she stammered, trying to untangle herself. “It was just… an accident.”
Liam, struggling to get up with his crutches, chuckled softly despite the awkwardness of the situation. “I’m alright, truly,” he assured the guards, who exchanged bemused glances before stepping back outside.
As the door closed behind them, Victoria helped Liam to his feet, her cheeks still burning. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes filled with a mix of apology and lingering fear.
Liam smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s alright, Vic. I promise, I’ll come back to you. Always. As a matter of fact, I will be around a lot as a Royal Guard.” he winked.
***
A burly, bearded man with formerly thick black hair and beard, now salt and pepper, his face wrinkled from spending a majority of his life in the Royal Navy, nodded at a receptionist as he was greeted by a man in a suit. He collected his belongings from the receptionist—a watch, wallet, and a few other personal items—methodically putting them on and away. Finally, he picked up his hat, a well-worn fedora, and placed it on his head, giving it an extra pat for good measure.
Dressed in a navy-blue blazercoat with gold buttons, a crisp white shirt, and dark trousers, Lord John, Marquess of Montfort-Yates, cut a distinguished figure. His polished black leather shoes and the Royal Navy insignia on his blazer pocket added to his dignified appearance.
“I am glad all this turned out to be a misunderstanding, Admiral Montfort-Yates,” the man in the suit, a detective with the Royal Police, said, his tone respectful but relieved.
“Not as glad as I am…” Lord John retorted, his voice deep and rough, as was his chuckle. His eyes twinkled with a mix of relief and lingering tension.
With another nod, he left the building, momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. When he could finally see, his eyes blinked at an old-fashioned luxury car, a 1962 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud II, the black paint shining in the sun. A tall, slender, handsome middle-aged man leaned against it casually, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up, his attire completed with a tweed vest, tailored trousers, and polished leather shoes. He smiled warmly at him.
Lord John approached, implying a bow. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of respect and surprise. “No guards? How reckless. Aren’t you afraid someone might try and steal you next?”
With a chuckle, the king shook his head. “Oh, who would want to steal an old relic like me? I am not as much fun as I used to be, and clearly my ability to judge situations and people properly has suffered with time.”
John laughed heartily, the tension between them melting away. “Well, I might be tempted, if only to demand a ransom. Maybe I’d finally get that yacht I’ve always wanted.”
Max grinned, the old camaraderie rekindling. “You might have to settle for a rowboat, my friend. I am afraid the royal treasury isn’t what it used to be. I have four royal children to send through university and arrange royal weddings for one day.”
With a chuckle, the king stepped forward, pulling Lord John into a tight embrace, patting his back. “Ah, John, can you ever forgive an old fool like me? I should have known it wasn’t you,” Max said, his voice thick with regret and relief.
“Already forgiven. I knew it wasn’t you in that cell. If put in your position, I would have done the same, who wouldn’t? How is Victoria?” John asked, his voice softening with genuine concern.
“Recovering remarkably. Get in, I’ll drive you to your home. Unless you want to come to mine and celebrate your release and the recovery of an old friendship. We are still friends, I hope?” Max’s eyes searched John’s face, his tone hopeful and sincere.
“You will have to try harder to lose my friendship, Max. You know me to be stubborn and loyal. And the king himself as my chauffeur? I could never refuse. But yes, I’d prefer your place, Max. Luckily, friends took my son for a few weeks. I have no idea how to explain to my boy why his father was in prison and why his mother is now, let alone what she has done. I swear to you, Max, I had no idea Charlene still carried such a torch for you, nor that she had taken a lover. I genuinely thought she loved me. Then again, who’s the fool now? That girl was so far out of my league, I should have known. If I had been thinking, I wouldn’t have ended up incarcerated for a crime she and her lover committed and conveniently framed me for. This just sounds like a book written by someone with an overactive imagination. This happens in movies, but not to a high ranking Admiral of the Royal Navy. Well Max, before you stands a blithering fool,” John said, his voice tinged with frustration and sadness.
They entered the car, snapping in the seatbelts. As Max slid the keys into the ignition, he halted, swallowed, then looked up at John, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and determination.
“You are a very distinguished and accomplished gentleman, John, any lady would be lucky to have you, this is her great loss, not yours. You were blinded, as I had been. I know she could make anyone believe anything; she did it to me as well. You couldn’t know, but I did. I should have, anyway. Aria-Grace has been telling me forever that Charlene is pure evil. Aria-Grace also told me that Charlene still loved me, wanted me, wanted to be queen, and she told me Charlene didn’t love you, but I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to see it. But I knew my wife was right, yet I chose to remain oblivious. And look what all that caused. So, John, if anyone would know how manipulative Charlene was, if anyone would be to blame besides the perpetrators themselves,” he paused, turning the key in the ignition, and the car hummed to life before he finished, “it’s me.”
John nodded slowly, his expression a mix of understanding and sorrow. “We all have our blind spots, Max. But what’s important is that Victoria is safe, and we all can move forward from this.”
Max nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “You’re right. Let’s go home. I’ll have a room made ready for you, we can send for your son too, he needs his father now more than ever, both of you may stay until you decide you wish to go back to your own house.”
“I’d rather go back to jail than to the place I used to call my home. I will have to sell and find a new residence. Might just burn it to the ground. And thank you, Max. I will try not to burden you for too long.”
“Oh yes, the palace is too crowded already, 22 empty bedroom suites and 15 various other rooms to now share with someone else? Unthinkable. We might even occasionally meet in one of the 38 hallways. The horror.” He chuckled, and John chimed in.
“Good to hear you laugh again, Max. I must say, for someone who spends most of his time with his nose in dusty old books or standing around, smiling politely from his finery, you’ve got quite the right hook. Never would have expected that from you. Respect, Your Majesty. If you ever get tired of ruling, the Royal Navy could use a man like you,” John teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Max grinned. “Apologies for that punch. It was uncalled for. I hope the fall didn’t leave too much damage?”
John laughed heartily, patting Max on the shoulder. “Ha, your punch was good, but not that good, mate. My head’s too hard to take much damage from a little tumble. But you did impress me. Keep my offer in mind.”
“As the king, aren’t I already the highest general of all military?”
John waved his hand dismissively. “That’s just an honorary title. I’m offering you some real hands-on experience.”
“I can’t complain of boredom with my daily duties, but thanks, John. I’ll keep your offer in mind. I haven’t had a raise in God knows how long, so maybe being a king isn’t as lucrative as one might think.”
Max turned his head to grin at John, causing him to laugh and point ahead. “HEY, watch the road, Your Majesty, you are about to plant us against a tree.”
Max corrected the steering abruptly, causing the car to lurch slightly. Both men shifted in their seats as the tires squealed briefly on the pavement. Max laughed, the sound breaking the tension. “Add that to my Navy resume: ‘has quick reflexes despite a slight past-his-prime age.’”
“Slight? Your Majesty is growing mold,” John said, pointing at the green tweed of the king’s vest.
Max responded, playfully appalled, “Lord John! Green is the royal color! How dare you call it mold!”
John leaned back, shrugging. “Well, it used to be blue, until our current monarch fell in love with a girl whose favorite color is green…”
Max’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned closer, a playful smirk on his lips. “I shall have you whipped for that, Lord John, I am appalled!” he said, his voice dripping with mock severity.
John chuckled, then gave Max a gentle shove. “Can you also be attentive? Watch the road, Your Majesty,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now I see why royalty have drivers. If they all drive like you do, it’s a miracle any of you are still alive. And I am saying that I am not the one being whipped here, Max.”
Max feigned a gasp, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Are you implying I am a wife-whipped bad driver? Insulting royalty now. I might just turn around and send you straight back to jail.”
“I would never imply such a thing, Max, I am telling you flat out that you are,” grinning, looking straight ahead, John shrugged, then made whipping noises until both men were laughing hard. Max clapped John on the shoulder, their laughter echoing through the car, a testament to years of shared history and unspoken understanding.
When King Maximilian arrived at Cromwell Palace with Lord John, the men were in high spirits. They entered the palace and headed to the royal study, where the King’s trusty advisor, Sir Reginald, followed them. Lord John teased, “Oh Max, aren’t you a bit old for a royal nanny?” He laughed and patted Sir Reginald on the back hard, causing him to stumble slightly, though he took it stiffly and uncomfortably.
While pouring a glass of Glenfiddich 30-Year-Old Single Malt Scotch Whisky, the King turned to John and handed him a glass. “Do be careful with him. I am rather fond of my nanny,” he chuckled. John accepted the glass, waiting for the King to pour another, which he handed to Reginald. Reginald took his with hesitation but did not drink, even as the other two men toasted and drank.
“Your Majesty, there has been another incident requiring your immediate attention,” Reginald said, his tone grim. Max’s smile vanished, his face darkening as he slowly lowered his glass. “Reginald, do not keep us in suspense. What is it this time?” Reginald glanced at John, then back at the King. “Your Majesty, perhaps we should discuss this matter in private,” he suggested, his voice low and cautious.
Max shook his head firmly. “Nonsense, Reginald. John is practically family. There are no secrets between us. Speak freely.” Reginald hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “Very well, Your Majesty,” he said reluctantly. “Unfortunately, your niece, the royal princess of Tartosa, Francesca Rinaldi, is missing. Your sister called earlier, deeply distressed.”
Max’s expression grew even more serious. “Oh, come on now! For heaven’s sake, will we never get a moment’s peace?! What do we know?” Reginald took a deep breath, his voice steady but somber. “Your Majesty, it appears the young lady has left a letter in which she expressed her desire to escape rather than be compelled into a marriage to a man she does not love by her strict father. The letter suggests she has eloped with a young man.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, bollocks! Let me guess, his name doesn’t happen to be Niccolo Auditore?” Reginald nodded. “Indeed, Your Majesty. That is correct.” Max sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Before all this drama, the family and I went to visit them. It was meant to last a week but ended the same day we arrived, when Victoria and Aria-Grace bitterly complained to me that my wonderful brother-in-law, King Gaetano, was evidently not only an old-fashioned chauvinist, but also won’t allow his daughter to marry the boy she wants. Instead, he keeps trying to match her up with titled gentlemen she doesn’t want. I warned Gaetano and Genevieve that this would backfire, and it ended in a fight. Harsh words were spoken, and we ended up turning around and leaving right away. Forcing Francesca into a marriage she doesn’t want was bound to end in disaster. And now, here we have a fine mess!”
John placed a reassuring hand on Max’s shoulder. “Have you tried punching him, Max? Seems to be your preferred response of late,” he grinned. “I heard you went to pay the abductors a visit in jail, just before I was released and couldn’t help feed my devilish wife’s lover a knuckle sandwich. You’re turning into Chuck Norris, old friend.”
Max snickered. “It did cross my mind at the time, I have to admit, but since that fool is married to my dear sister, I refrained. Knowing how old-fashioned Tano is, he’d have challenged me to a duel at dawn. Might have even started a war betweenour kingdoms,” the men laughed briefly.
Max straightened, his resolve hardening.
“We need to offer our support. Reginald, draft a message to King Gaetano. Inform him that we are ready to assist in any way possible. We can send a contingent of our best men to aid in the search and have our intelligence network on high alert. Or better yet, get him on the phone. I’ll tell him myself, along with some balmy words and hope I can keep my ‘told you sos’ to myself.”
The phone call was arranged swiftly and remained short. When Max hung up, he turned to John. “Tano is devastated, and my sister is in the hospital with a nervous breakdown, which sounds too familiar for comfort. I have to say, even though he really rubbed me the wrong way last time, I do feel for him, knowing what he and my poor sister are going through. But at least they know the young lovers departed of their own volition, and legally, there isn’t much they can do. Both are over 18. Get some of your finest readied for immediate dispatch, John, in case they change their minds and want our help to search for them. Like this kingdom, Tartosa is an island, so unless they have left by boat or plane, they should still be within reach.”
Royal High Court of Henfordshire
Day of Sentencing
The grand courtroom of the Royal High Court of Henfordshire was a sight to behold. High ceilings adorned with frescoes depicted the kingdom’s history, while tall, arched windows allowed sunlight to illuminate the room. Rich, dark wood paneling lined the walls, and polished marble floors echoed the footsteps of those who entered. At the front, a raised dais held the judge’s bench, where King Maximilian sat alongside the judge and other court officials.
King Maximilian, dressed in his official regalia of deep green, gold, and cream, symbolized justice and authority. His attire included a richly embroidered coat, a sash adorned with royal insignia, and a simple circlet. Beside him, the judge, in traditional robes and a white wig, prepared to deliver the sentences. The courtroom was filled with solemnity and anticipation.
The press had limited access, their cameras and notepads ready to capture the historic moment. Only trusted court members and the defendants’ immediate families were present.
Charlene Montfort-Yates, Garrett Huxley, and Eugenia Chamberlain stood in the dock, their faces reflecting a mix of defiance and remorse. The crimes of abduction, conspiracy, endangering the royal family, and treason hung heavily in the air.
Eugenia’s daughter, Princess Eloise Cromwell, visibly shaken, sat with her stepfather, Lord Chamberlain and her half-brother. Her eyes were red from crying, but she held her head high, while her little brother kept crying quietly throughout at the horror of watching his mother in this position. The Most Honourable Marquess John Montfort-Yates of Montfort and Earl of Britchester, also known by his military title of Admiral of the Royal Navy and King Max’s oldest and dearest friend, once framed for his own wife Charlene’s heinous crimes, though recently exonerated, stood tall, his expression a mix of relief and sorrow. Beside him was his young son, The Right Honourable Lord Henry Montfort-Yates, Viscount of Henford, clinging on to his father.
Queen Aria-Grace and their children, Crown Prince William, Princess Royale Victoria, Princess Vivienne, and Princess Veronica, were present, their faces reflecting sadness and resolve. Seated next to Princess Vivienne were Jack Kershaw and his wife Izzy, reflecting their close connection to the royal family. They had all come to witness the sentencing, a testament to their commitment to justice.
The judge’s voice rang out, clear and authoritative. “All rise for His Honourable Royal Majesty King Maximilian Edward Henry Cromwell, King of Henfordshire and the Isles, Duke of Britchester, to speak his sentence.”
The sound of chairs scraping against the marble floor filled the room as everyone stood, the rustling of clothing and murmurs of anticipation adding to the solemn atmosphere.
King Maximilian stood, his gaze sweeping over the courtroom. “Your Grace, Lady Eugenia Chamberlain, Dowager Duchess of Cromwell and Countess of Foxbury, widow of my late brother; and your sister, The Most Honourable Marchioness Charlene Montfort-Yates of Montfort and Countess of Britchester, this shall mark the final time you both have been addressed as such. You are both hereby stripped of all titles and styles, ineligible to ever regain any titles or styles in the kingdom of Henfordshire in the future. From here on out, you shall only be known by your Christian names and your maiden name, Ashford, as both of your former consorts have petitioned to have their marital bonds to each of you respectively declared invalid, which I am empowered to do under these special circumstances involving high treason against the Crown and herewith declare granted in both cases. Custody of the respective children has been assigned to their respective fathers.
Eugenia Ashford, Charlene Ashford, and Garrett Huxley, for your crimes of abduction, conspiracy, endangering the royal family, and high treason against the Crown, you are hereby standing justice.”
He turned to Charlene. “Charlene Ashford, you are sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. You will not be allowed any visitors.”
Next, he addressed Huxley. “Garrett Huxley, you too are sentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. You, too, shall be denied visitation.”
Finally, he spoke to Eugenia. “Eugenia Chamberlain, due to the evidence of coercion, your involvement in Princess Victoria’s escape, and your subsequent confession, you will receive a lighter sentence. You are sentenced to ten years in prison, with the possibility of parole. You may receive visitors. Upon your release, you will be exiled from the kingdom.”
The judge then lifted his gavel and brought it down with a resounding crack. “By the power vested in me by the Crown and the laws of this kingdom, the sentences are confirmed. Guards, take the prisoners into custody and escort them to their respective facilities.”
EchoesOfLegacy 