Chapter Sixty-Three

Harry didn't like this at all. There was just something about it that didn't sit right. He could not have told you why. But something in the back of his mind niggled, like the answer on the tip of the tongue. He just couldn't seem to figure out what was wrong.

Ruth said he was being silly. Maybe he was. This really wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Not really.

It was Emancipation Day. The biggest national holiday of the year, commemorating the victory of Albert the Emancipator over the Ferlish invaders, which was the beginning of the ruling House Everard—Ruth's family—and the creation of their country as they knew it today.

Each year, the palace did something spectacular for Emancipation Day. Usually the monarch gave a speech and there was a big fireworks display. Last year, King James had barely been able to make a radio address; he was too ill to stand and give a speech in public. This year, Queen Louisa would make her first public Emancipation Day address.

Ruth had given countless speeches in public. Even since she'd become queen a few months ago, she'd given speeches. This felt different, though. There would be enormous crowds of onlookers. The whole country would be poised to hear what their new queen had to say.

Harry could not express his concerns to Ruth, however. She was upset enough already by things. She was constantly busy and constantly upset over something or other, what with not being able to be a proper mother to her young daughters or to spend much time alone with her husband or have a single second to herself without shirking her duties. And she never did like public speaking much anyway. Knowing the whole country and all the colonies were watching, well, she wasn't handling it very well.

Oh she'd be poised and well-spoken when it happened. But Harry knew better. She'd been snapping at everyone for two days and reciting her speech practically in her sleep. And as they sat in the car on the way to Albert Plaza, she was shaking like a leaf.

He wanted to say something to make her feel better. That she would be fine, that all this worry was for nothing. She'd be brilliant, as she was with everything. All that was true, he knew. But there was a tiny feeling of dread in the back of Harry's mind that he still could not shake.

Two days before, when he started to feel like something might be wrong, he had gone to the Head of the Royal Guard to ask about security for the event. Ros, being very efficient and capable, assured him that it was all in hand. Harry knew it was. Ros was the best at what she did. He had every trust in her. Ever since Ruth became queen and they'd moved permanently into the palace, Harry had been going to Ros's office once each week to discuss the security threats. Harry had more experience than most people in such things, being in the army for his whole life. He knew better what threats were real and what needed to be done to avoid them. He and Ros had grown something close to friendly thanks to these weekly chats. They both had a similar approach to things. And, of course, they shared a common goal: keeping Ruth safe.

Ros had told Harry that everything was well in hand. The same security protocols that had been used with King James two years ago and further back were all in place. The bodyguards would be stationed around the stage and at each entrance to the square. They'd all be able to communicate on closed radio frequencies. And when Harry asked, as he always did, about threats made against the queen, Ros told him the same as she always did. "There are always nutters out there looking to make a statement. I've been in this job long enough to know that they're no match for us."

Normally, Harry just chuckled and nodded at that. He did have great faith in the Royal Guard. But he hadn't reacted that way this time. He felt a cold shiver down his spine. The Royal Guard was more than a match for any threat. But Harry had never felt like there really was any proper threat before.

Even now, he had absolutely no reason for believing that today would go any different than any other event. Nothing special. Ruth going to stand on a stage in front of a microphone and recite a speech that she had helped her advisors prepare for her. Unlike her grandfather and her uncle, Ruth and her father were good writers and insisted on contributing to the words they spoke to their people. It meant more work for Ruth, but it was work she wanted to do. Harry couldn't fault her for that. He just wished he knew why he felt like telling her to ignore the speech and just wave and take photos and then leave.

"Why are you so quiet?" she asked suddenly.

Harry had been lost in thought as they sat together in the back of the car on the way to the event. "Thinking about the girls," he lied.

Ruth smiled softly at that. Emilia and Charlotte had stayed behind at the palace with Catherine and the nanny. There would be too many crowds and sitting to watch Mummy give a speech in a big public square wasn't anything that they needed to be a part of. And Harry and Ruth did not need the bother of trying to keep their daughters quiet and still during such an event.

"I promised them ice cream for dessert," Harry continued. "Emmy was upset to miss all the fun and it seemed to be the only thing that would keep her from throwing a tantrum about being left out."

"We are going to have to find a way to parent without bribing them," Ruth pointed out. "But I probably would have done the same thing. It is easier this way, isn't it?"

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "It is easier. And I think we could all use something just a little easier right now. A little ice cream as a bribe won't be much of a problem."

Ruth squeezed his hand a little tighter. The pit of anxious worry still grew in his belly. He could feel her watching him, which was never a good sign. She was far too clever and observant for her own good. "It's the plaza, isn't it?" she asked softly, placing her free hand on top of their clasped hands in her lap.

Until that moment, Harry had not even thought about that. Albert Plaza, where the Emancipation Day events would be held, was the site of his brutal, bloody battle during the war. He and his men had defended the plaza, as it was an extremely strategic point in the capital. And if Albert Plaza fell, there would be a clear line to the palace. The Sharu armies would have been able to force a surrender if they had been able to get through Albert Plaza. Major Pearce and his regiment held firm. So many had died on both sides in that long battle. Harry had held young men in his arms as they fell victim to their fatal wounds. There hadn't been enough medical supplies. So many of them had died. Too many for Harry to count. But he remembered each and every boy whose hand he had held, whose sacrifice he had commended and valued.

Perhaps that was what caused Harry to be so nervous. Albert Plaza was a beautiful square now, and he'd been there plenty of times without incident. He hardly ever thought of that battle anymore. He had no reason to think of the war most of the time. But maybe Ruth was right. Maybe being back in this place for such a public celebration was forcing him to recall those terrible days of war that he had barely survived with his life and his sanity.

"I'll be glad when we can go back home," Harry responded softly, not really answering her question. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a reverent kiss there.

Ruth smiled at him, and he could feel her start to relax. He was glad to have helped her. He only wished he could have eased his own worries the same way.

As the car pulled in, the crowds of Albert Plaza were bigger than Harry had ever seen in his life. All of these people wanting to catch a glimpse of their queen and to hear what she had to say. It was all more than a little overwhelming.

Harry kept his eyes and ears open. Something was off. He hoped he was wrong, but he rarely was with things like this. He watched where all the guards were stationed. He made sure Dimitri and Zaf were properly placed.

One thing he noticed right away was the stage in front of the statue of Albert the Emancipator where Ruth would have to give her speech: there was no podium. A microphone was set up for Ruth to stand at to speak to the crowds, but usually at things like this, there was a podium she could hide behind. That wasn't too unusual, was it? Probably not. But it struck Harry as significant. Again, he could not tell you why.

Ruth arrived to thunderous applause. In spite of himself, Harry was pleased at that. The people already loved her, and he felt a little bubble of pride as he watched her smile and blush at the cheers of the crowd as she gave a little wave. Within a moment of her standing at the microphone, a hush fell over the whole plaza. And Ruth began to speak.

She did brilliantly, as Harry knew she would. Her voice was steady and measured, something she had been practicing on for years now. Her intonations were effective. She was, in a word, regal.

Something caught Harry's eye in the crowd. A man was making his way through the throng. He wore a hat. Harry couldn't see his face. But the hat was large enough to cover his face and make him conspicuous as a result. The man also had a hand tucked inside his jacket. It was an unusual sight, which was why it caught Harry's attention. Then, just as the man got to the front of the security barrier, he saw movement.

A gun.

The rest was a blur. Harry was seated off to the side while Ruth was on stage. He leapt up and shouted something. The guards similarly leapt into action. They probably had everything under control. But Harry couldn't think straight. He couldn't think at all. His whole body moved on its own accord, out of instinct and terror and protective love of his wife. There was a man with a gun pointed at the queen. And the gun went off.

Harry fell hard to the ground, pinning Ruth beneath him. She was screaming, but the sound was far off in the distance. And a white-hot pain coursed through Harry unlike anything he'd experienced in a long time. Not since the last time he was in this very plaza amidst gunfire.