Chapter 2 - The Ghost of the Chapel
The Palace of St. Jude was a sprawling masterpiece of stone and history,
lit up like a diamond against the night sky.
As the motorcade swept through the iron gates,
thousands of onlookers cheered,
unaware that the most significant guest was just arriving.
I was led through a side entrance,
past corridors filled with ancient tapestries and portraits of rulers who had died for their honor.
I could hear the distant swell of a hundred-piece orchestra,
the sound of Rachel’s victory playing out in the grand ballroom.
I was ushered into a small,
private study where an older man sat behind a heavy oak desk,
his eyes sharp and piercing as a hawk’s.
It was King Leopold.
He wore his own ceremonial uniform,
dripping with medals that mirrored the ones on my own chest.
He didn't stand up immediately;
he simply watched me walk toward him,
measuring my stride,
evaluating my posture.
“Commander Emily Carter,”
he said,
his voice like a low,
lethal rumble of thunder.
“I see that the Navy has taught you how to stand straight.”
“It taught me many things,
Your Majesty,”
I replied,
inclining my head just enough to show respect without yielding my dignity.
The King leaned forward,
sliding a photograph across the desk—a photo of Rachel in her wedding gown,
smiling beside Prince Alexander.
“Your sister told me you were in a psychiatric facility in the Midwest,”
he said,
his gaze never leaving mine.
“She said the stress of your life had broken your mind,
and that you were too fragile to witness her happiness.”
A cold,
bitter laugh almost escaped me,
but I kept my face as still as a statue.
“I have been on a carrier in the South China Sea for the last six months,
sir,”
I answered.
“The only thing that is fragile is my sister's memory.”
The King’s expression didn't change,
but I saw a spark of genuine fury ignite in the depths of his amber eyes.
He had been deceived by the woman who now held the title of Princess,
and for a man of his stature,
that was the ultimate insult.
“She claimed your family came from an impoverished aristocratic line in Vermont,”
he continued,
his voice dropping to a whisper.
“She erased the janitor and the nurse from her history,
and replaced them with ghosts and lies.”
He stood up then,
his height imposing,
his presence filling the room like a storm.
“The reception is currently at its peak,”
he said,
gesturing toward the double doors that led to the ballroom.
“I believe it is time for the Commander to report for duty.”
He offered me his arm,
not as a King to a subject,
May you like
but as one officer to another.
“Let us see how the Princess handles a surprise guest.”
