Rebel Song (24 page)

“You can take your intelligent decision and shove it up your ass.” She could hear Pantone’s snicker as she slammed the door as hard as she could on her way out.

CHAPTER 32

She paced the tiny pond beach in a panic, pulling at her hair and biting her manicured pink nails. When she called to say she had something to tell him immediately, this was definitely not what he expected.

“I think you’re overreacting,” Rogan lied as he tried to pacify her. “It’s going to be okay.”
Who was he kidding? This was NOT going to be okay,
he thought
.

“Is it? How do you figure?” Elyra asked frantically.

“He’s not going to go after me. Hurting me isn’t worth the uproar it would cause. And besides, I’m not that important. It would do nothing but anger everyone.”

“Everyone loves a fallen hero, Rogan. It would be the very excuse your people need.”

He glared at her.

“You think my cause would martyr me just for an excuse to storm the castle? C’mon Elyra, you’re thinking like a little girl, not a soldier.”

“Because I’m
not
a soldier!” She threw up her hands dramatically.

“No, at this moment, you are very much a little girl.”

She scowled at him.

“You have to leave. Leave the city. Now that he knows about us, about who you are, you’re just not safe.”

“Leave the city? Leave Pear Valley?”

“Yes!” She pleaded.

“And what would you have me do? Hide in the shadows and watch Arelanda fall and leave my girl in the hands of a murderer and his minions?” He walked toward her and put his arms around her waist.

“It’s better than you winding up on the wrong end of that murder’s rifle,” she whimpered, leaning into his chest. “You don’t understand. Pantone doesn’t play by the rules. When someone—I don’t want to know whom—bombed the governor’s office, it raised the bar. The secret is out that you’re ready to fight. And now he has us as ammunition and he knows who you are…” She let her words trail off.

“El, he’s never going to leak this information and admit he had you followed.” He stroked her flushed cheek.

“You don’t understand how much power Pantone really has. He has enough evidence to have me denounced.” Her face was beet red and damp with anxious sweat.

“He won’t succeed in that.”

“You don’t know him like I do.” She pressed her cheek against his chest. “What if he does release what he knows? We have to face the fact that it’s a real possibility. What if he has us both arrested?”

“Listen to me,” he cupped her flushed face in his hands and looked her directly in the eyes. “This is your country. You are going to inherit the throne, not Pantone. Not this jackass Fallon.
You
are going to be Queen, and they can’t make you marry anyone you don’t want to. And they certainly can’t arrest you on some half-assed treason charge.”

“Who says I’m even qualified to be Queen?” She wiped away a stray tear.

“I don’t think the rules of succession are looking for a resume,” Rogan laughed.

“So just because some arrogant great-great grandfather of mine conquered some other arrogant great man, I’m entitled to rule an entire country?”

Rogan laughed at the breakdown.

“Yeah, I think that’s the gist of it, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” she grumbled.

“Why not? It’s who you are.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

He took her trembling hands in his and kissed her knuckles.

“Yes you can. I’ll be the first to admit that the monarchy is an antiquated system that needs to be rethought. But not now, not when Arelanda needs you. You can’t abandon her now. If you don’t fight for her, Pantone will. And he will win. Do you want the people subjected to his tyranny?”

“It might be too late, Rogan. The damage has been done. You told me the revolt is in motion. What if your cause is successful and they see the government overturned? Who’s to say they’ll even let me live once all is said and done?”

“Because I’m on your side. You are going to be all right. We’re going to fight through this. Look at me,” he pulled her chin back up so their eyes met. “I am not going to let Henri or Pantone sell you off to the highest bidder. You’re mine. And I am yours. Until the end.” He leaned in and pressed his lips on hers. “I love you El.”

Her wide emerald eyes gleamed with the sheen of tears.

“You do?” She whispered.

He answered her question with another firm kiss, pulling her lips into his with need. Deep hunger stirred in his core. He pulled her closer, kissing her deeper, trying to erase the fear rooted inside her. He pulled away and ran his thumb along her lips.

“Does that answer your question?” he asked.

She inhaled and smiled back with half-lidded eyes.

They stood in an embrace for a few silent moments, breathing in the still night air. Finally she pulled away slightly.

“We could both leave,” she said. “Get on the next train out of here.”

Rogan half-smiled and stroked her jaw.

“And where would we go?”

Elyra shook her head and sighed.

“East. I don’t know. Roam the countryside like the Romi. Anywhere but here.”

“As amazing as that sounds, we can’t. You have a duty. So do I.”

“Duty,” she spat out bitterly. “I hate the word.” She turned her head to look up at the sky. “I don’t know what to do.”

He pulled her into his chest and savored her warmth.

“You have to beat him.” 

“I have no power.”

Rogan raised her chin in his hand again and stared at her firmly.

“Then go find some.” He pulled into another desperate kiss.

CHAPTER 33

Sleep clung desperately to her eyes. Her dreams blurred from something shaking her by shoulder. Her eyes peeled open and she saw the shadowy figure standing above her.

“Elyra, wake up!”  Elyra forced her eyes open wider and tried to focus. Slowly color and clarity returned to her world. She saw a frenzied Ada frantically trying to rouse her.

“Ada?” Elyra whispered through the fog of her dreams. “What time is it?”

“It’s late my girl,” Ada said. “I’m sorry but you must wake. Your father—he’s not well.” Instantly, Elyra shot up from bed.

“What do you mean not well?”

“He suffered a stroke only moments ago. His wing keeper was on his way in to check on him and found him in his study.”

“Is he…is he…” Elyra began but the words were trapped in her throat.

“He’s alive. But you must go to him now. Your mum’s frantic.”

Elyra sprang from bed and threw on a housecoat and slippers and was running out of the door before Ada could turn around.

Henri was in the medical suite, laid out as still as death in the oversized bed, with tubes inserted in his nose and mouth. Dr. Falito, the royal physician, was feeling his pulse, noting the beats with this stopwatch. The room smelled of antiseptics and sweat. Queen Calliope was sobbing hysterically in the corner. Her personal maid, Fadme, had her thick arms wrapped around the Queen and was consoling her with quiet coos. Pantone stood smugly in the corner, looking almost satisfied. Elyra ran to the bedside and clasped her father’s hands. His skin was ashen and dry and his breathing was patchy. Dr. Falito finished his measurement and turned to Elyra.

“Your Highness,” he said sympathetically.

“Doctor. How is he? Is he going to be all right?” Elyra asked.

Falito sighed.

“We have thinned his blood and calmed his heart. He has oxygen flowing. But it is very soon to tell if there has been any damage. He suffered a serious stroke and his body is weak.”

“But, will he make it?” Elyra pushed.

“I think he will pull through. But I cannot promise there won’t be some lasting effects,” he said shaking his head. “An event like this can damage the brain and the nerves. He might not be able to walk or speak. But as I said, it is very soon to make any kind of call on that front. Right now we must stay positive. I will continue to monitor his vitals.”

The words tore at her heart.

“How did this happen?” She asked with tears threatening. “He is so young, isn’t he?”

The doctor nodded and affectionately touched her shoulder.

“Yes, he is very young for such a fate. But he has been gambling with his health these past years. With his family history, I have asked him to take better care with his smoking and eating and lack of exercise. He is also under much stress and it strains one’s body so. His blood pressure was frighteningly high at his last checkup.” 

Elyra’s head was spinning. Weakness clutched her. She moved to sit on one of the plush chairs next to her mother, who was still sobbing like a mad woman. Elyra couldn’t help but feel it was either for show or than her mother was under the influence, as she never so much as shed a tear over anything.

“Elyra dear, I am so sorry,” Pantone began and reached out to touch her shoulder with his slimy hand. Elyra glared and slapped his hand away.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she seethed. 

She breathed deeply and tried to take it all in.
What in God’s name would she do now?
Suddenly the door burst open and Markus flew into the room, genuine panic masking his face.

“Markus!” Elyra called out, unexpectedly relieved to see him. He rushed to her and embraced her tightly and she didn’t fight her need to collapse into his arms.

“I just returned to the palace and Raj told me what had happened. How is he?” Markus looked at the weak and beaten King.

“Stroke. We don’t know yet exactly how serious it is but Dr. Falito thinks he will live,” Elyra said.

Markus let out a breath of relief. He walked to Henri and cupped his pale hands.

“You old fool,” he said affectionately. “Couldn’t keep the butter and smokes out of your mouth, could you?”

Elyra came up behind him and for a reason she couldn’t identify, linked her arm into Markus’. Perhaps it was his genuine concern for her father, or perhaps it was just to have someone tangible to share her fear.

“I told him to watch himself,” Markus sighed, touching his palm to Henri’s forehead. “How long will he be unconscious?” He looked up at the doctor.

Dr. Falito twisted his mouth and looked at the King. He shook his head slowly as if he were assessing the question.

“I would be surprised if he wakes sooner than in a few days. And then—we will have to see if he is lucid at all.”

“Will he be able to work if he wakes?” Markus asked.

Elyra pulled away with a look of disgust.

“Markus, could you pull your head from politics for even a moment? He’s practically on his death bed!”

He turned to her in earnest.

“El, he’s not some grocery clerk. He’s the King. He doesn’t get sick days without a contingency plan. The moment word is out that the King is ill, it will beckon his enemies. We need to have an immediate shift in control.”

Elyra stumbled and her head throbbed. It was all happening so fast. Markus was right.

“So what happens now?” Elyra sat to keep from falling down. “I can’t…I’m  not…” She sputtered but couldn’t form sentences.

“It has to go to the council immediately for contingency. We should call an emergency meeting,” Markus turned to Pantone.

“What’s to decide?” Queen Calliope broke into the conversation in her sing-song voice. “Elyra is the princess, the next in line. She will wear the crown. And it will look so lovely on her.” Her dreamy eyes were damp from tears.

They all stared at her blankly.

“Your Grace, I’m afraid that’s not quite how it works,” Pantone interjected cautiously, as if he had been waiting for his cue. “She is too young to legally take the seat.”

Elyra shot daggers from her eyes.

“That’s preposterous,” Calliope snorted. “My husband was just a boy when he was crowned. Such a handsome boy.” She brought a handkerchief to her eyes and moaned.

“Yes, I know that,” Pantone went on slowly like he was talking to a child. “But he also remained in apprenticeship for three years until he was legally in complete power. That is still the law. Only now apprenticeship cannot technically begin until one reaches legal age, which is sixteen. Elyra is only in her first year, Your Grace.”

Calliope seemed overwhelmed and confused by this new information, her brow furrowing. At that moment Elyra thought it was possible her mother didn’t even know there was a High Council.

“And who do you suppose will take my husband’s seat then. You?” Calliope asked with a snort and flutter of her hand.

“Over my dead body,” Elyra snapped.

“Gladly,” Pantone smirked under his breath.

“My ladies and gents,” Dr. Falito interrupted. “If I may, it would be best if we did not have such heated discussions in the medical suite. His Majesty needs to rest and even in his comatose state, he may be disturbed.”

Elyra, Markus and Pantone nodded apologetically.

“Our apologies, Doctor,” Markus said. “Come on Elyra, let’s take a walk. It will be good to clear our heads.”

She made sure to shoot Pantone her most hateful glare on her way out.

They walked out to the gardens behind the great courtyard. The night was chilly but it cleansed her mind after the stuffy confines of the medical suite. The sky was clear as a deep blue gemstone with thousands of twinkling lights glittering.
It was the kind of night Rogan would have liked to share with her.

“I think he’s going to be all right,” Markus said.

Elyra nodded and sighed.

“Let’s hope. I just can’t believe this is happening. He’s barely forty-one.”

“I know,” Markus shook his head slightly. “He always seemed like such an unstoppable force.”

“And so now what? Who is supposed to step in in his place? Pantone?” She spat out his name with contempt.

“Well, the bylaws do grant the Minister General interim power in the event the King is incapacitated and there is no heir of legal age.”

Elyra growled with frustration.

“For once a modernized law is working
against
me. I won’t sit by and watch that goon rule for even one day.”

“You might not have much of a choice. It’s the law. It’s designed to protect the country from the foolish whims of children playing dress up in crowns. And to ensure that no one ascends to power without proper training. It’s a good thing…usually.”

“I know,” she conceded. “But it doesn’t pacify me right now. Pantone is an evil man who’d love nothing more than to see me out of the picture. Every moment he spends in power is a moment closer to my demise. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d found a way to induce that stroke.” Markus didn’t reply. “You know that he’s capable Markus. Don’t bother lying to me. And I know he has you in his pocket, Mr. up-and-coming political star.”

“That’s quite a presumption.”

“Is it? You’re just like him. All ambitions and greed. A little vanity thrown in.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not in on the plan to buy your brother’s loyalty through me.”

“Don’t pretend to understand things that you don’t. Believe it or not, I care about what happens to you.”

Elyra glowered at him.

“Why? Because I’m your best shot at a meal ticket?”

“Because I love you!” He suddenly took her by the arm.

Elyra sucked in her breath and froze. Markus softened his grip and sighed, embarrassment creeping across his cheeks. 

“And I love this country—love your father. My loyalties are to you.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she bit back angry tears, the weight of the situation crushing her.

“What things? That I love this country? Or that I love you?”

“Stop it! You don’t love me. You don’t even know what that is.”

He took her by the arm again, but this time gently. He pulled her closer to him with affectionate hands. She didn’t have the energy to pull away.

“Elyra, I have loved you since I was ten years old. Ever since you were a bratty, fiery haired little girl constantly getting me into trouble, I have cared for you.”

“How can you say that? You’ve never been there for me. You’ve spent half my life ignoring me!”

He lowered his head slightly and nodded.

“I haven’t always known what to do with my feelings.”

“Markus…” she started, but the words caught in her throat.

“You can’t tell me how I feel, El. Not anymore. I love you and you can’t change that. And I know your feelings about me may not run that deeply, but you and I together make so much sense. I’m not trying to buy you. I’m trying to protect you.”

“I can’t have this conversation right now,” she shook her head and pushed him away. Her chest felt heavy, her breath crushed by the weight of it all.

“Then when? Your father lies in a coma and Pantone is threatening to take your birthright. You need me. And I need you,” he took her hand.

“Markus,” she turned to him and spoke as calmly as she could manage. “You have been a good, loyal son to my father. And I know you are trying to be a good friend to me now. But I don’t care about you like that.”

Markus gave her hand a gentle squeeze then released it. His brown eyes glossed over and he nodded.

“Is it someone else?” He asked with a sliver of wounded pride. Elyra sighed.

“There doesn’t have to be someone else to know that you and I are not right for each other.”

Markus nodded and looked away, salvaging his dignity.

“Then you may change your mind someday. You never know.”

She turned and threw her arms around him and squeezed. She wanted to cry into his shoulder, but she refrained and simply stood in his heavy arms for a few moments. Finally, she pulled away and smiled.

“Thank you for being here tonight.” Then she turned to go back into the palace.