CHAPTER 14

Wednesday, The 3rd of December, 2239

Henri Pemberton, Viscount Enfield

"Your Highness?" A voice asks from my door, followed by a short knock, waking me. Judging from the way it was still dark outside it couldn't be later than 6 in the morning. I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes lightly. It had been a while since I had to get up so early, both in the palace and in college. I'm sure there was some reason why I was being woken up so early, even if I couldn't quite fathom what it was.

"Yes?" I ask, fairly sure that the man could hear how tired I was.

"The Queen would like to speak to you," he says, "Please come with me when you are dressed and ready."

Huh. Now that was weird. Carrie's mother wasn't a stranger to me. I've spoken to her several times, and my mother was friendly, if not friends, with her. I just didn't understand why whatever it was that she wanted to talk to me about had to be done at the crack of dawn.

Well, I'm not the ruler of the country, any country really, so I guess I can't exactly judge. Her schedule is probably ridiculously busy, filled with meetings and conferences. This was probably just when she could work me into her schedule. I shouldn't be upset, at least she was actually taking the time to meet with me about something, whatever in the world that it is.

"Okay." I say, forcing myself out of bed. I'm not in a position to refuse a private audience with the Queen of Illéa.

The butler who had been assigned to me wasn't yet in my room, after all, he didn't usually have to start his day till around 8 am. It wasn't like it particularly mattered. I could get dressed by myself, as I've been doing for the past 20 years of my life. My parents never wanted me to have a personal servant growing up, thinking that it wasn't good for a child. They were probably right, at least I could do things for myself. We had some people who came in to clean and cook, but other than that, it was a fairly normal upbringing, all things considered.

Once I had changed into a more presentable outfit: a navy blue sweater and pair of dark pants, I went to go meet the butler, or, I suppose, the guard who was meant to take me to the Queen's office. I didn't recognize him, though he was in the uniform of the royal guard.

"May we go, sir?" He asks, his voice shockingly formal. More what I was used to before the selection started, when I would attend official engagements as myself not one of the selected. It wasn't to say that the selected weren't treated well, they were, no denying it. It was just different. I had access to less things, less authority in anything of importance.

It was almost as if we were 2 year olds who would have extreme amounts of power in the future. Which, I guess, in a way, we were.

Except for me though.

"Yeah, I'm ready." I agree, nodding quickly.

"Of course. Follow me," he instructs, making his way down the hall. I follow him quietly, trying not to wake anyone else up. Firstly, that would be rude, and second, I didn't really feel like answering any awkward questions about why the Queen, who was yet to approach any of the guys, with the exception of Divesh, wanted to speak to me. I don't know what exactly it's about, but I can pretty safely assume that she wouldn't want me to share it with the rest of the selected.

The offices and meeting rooms of the palace are located on the first floor, far from the ballroom, parlors, and other rooms dedicated for the royal family. This section was more like a fancy office building. It even had a special entrance to the side, so that the advisors, public relation staff, assistant, and everyone else who worked here wouldn't come through the main entrance to the palace.

Convenience or embarrassment, take your pick.

Either way, it was mostly empty this early in the morning. The only person I see is a harried looking woman clutching a large cup of coffee. She barely spares me a glance, looking at something on her phone. The Queen's office is located the closest to the actual residential part of the palace, that way it's as far as possible from the cramped offices, cafeteria, and break rooms that line the walls once you get further into this wing of the palace.

The guard hands me off to another one, stationed outside the door to the office. "This is him?" The new guard asks, looking down at me.

"Yes," the other confirms.

The new guard, who must have a higher rank then the one who escorted me down here, nods once, dismissing the other. Once he is gone, the guard turns to me, "Can you please confirm your name for me?" He asks, making a note on a clipboard.

"Henri Pemberton," I reply, more than a bit confused.

"Do you have any form of identification?" The guard asks, in what I can only assume is standard procedure for someone coming to visit the Queen.

"No." I respond. It's not like I carry my driver's license or student ID on me in the palace. I haven't had a need for either in the past few weeks.

"Hm," the guard says, "One moment please. I need to confirm your identity before you can speak with Her Majesty."

"Oh for Heaven's sake Taylor, it's him," comes the Queen's voice, "I told you to let him in when he arrived."

Not looking particularly happy at having to break protocol, Taylor grimaces before addressing me, "You may go in," he says, opening the door for me. I guess he knows well enough not to disobey a direct order from the Queen. That wouldn't end particularly well for him.

"Thanks."

The office looks like what I would expect of the Queen. Traditional furniture, a dark wood desk, and heavy curtains drawn, blocking out the weak rays of sun barely emerging behind the clouds. It makes the laptop and tablet on her desk look misplaced.

"Your Majesty." I say, bowing my head as decorum dictates.

She looks up at me, smiling, "Oh, Henri. I thought I told you to call me Mrs. Schreave."

I flush a little, "You did. I just didn't know since the selection started...I figured most of the other selected wouldn't be very happy if I called you that."

"Indeed, they wouldn't be," she says. "How different times are now."

"The selection? Yeah, that is pretty different." I say, in what might be the understatement of the century.

She nods, looking thoughtful for a moment, "How is that going for you? I hope none of the other boys have been giving you a hard time. If there were any issues, I would be more than happy to take care of them for you."

I don't think anything on earth could be more embarrassing than having your girlfriend's mother, who also happens to be the Queen of Illéa offer to help make sure that things are going swell. I try not to let my ego overshadow rational thinking, but that would be a bit too far.

"No. Not at all. They've all been very nice." I state firmly, lying through my teeth.

"Good. I was hoping there weren't any...never mind that. So, tell me, you're studying engineering right?" She asks, quickly changing the subject.

"Industrial engineering yeah."

"How many semesters do you have left of that?" She asks delicately, tapping a pen against her desk.

"Not much. I need to finish this year, and then I have my senior year, then I'm done." I explain, starting to feel like she's just making small talk. I don't mind that, I'm more than happy to discuss my college degree with her, but it seems like she's stalling for something. What? I can't say. But I guess who would know? It's not like everything that the Queen...Mrs. Schreave, I mean, does is public knowledge.

"That's great. Are you planning on finishing your degree after the selection?"

"Probably," I say. I had actually thought about it for a while. "I would try to get the credits through a correspondence course, or I'm sure I could work something out with my school."

"I'm positive they would be helpful. It's certainly something to draw students to the school. Though, I suppose Stanford doesn't really need to encourage anyone to apply." Mrs. Schreave pauses, thinking for a moment. "And what about graduate school?"

"I don't know. I don't think I would exactly be able to get a graduate degree." I admit, knowing that it would be hard to finish graduate school while simultaneously being in the palace, with whatever duties I inherited when the Queen eventually stepped down.

"Maybe. I guess we would have to see about that." She shakes her head for a second, clearing her thoughts. "I suppose we should move on to why I actually wanted to talk to you. After all, I could have asked you about your degree without waking you up before dawn. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"It's fine. Getting up early is a nice change." I say, only semi-lying. No one really wants to get up early, but I don't mind it as much as most people do.

"That's good. I just thought it was best to get it out of the way when we probably wouldn't be overheard."

I frown, puzzled at her words. "What do you mean?"

"Have you spoken to your family recently?" She asks, evading my question.

"No. Not really. My sister said something about going back to England for Christmas, but that's it." I say, flipping through my memories. I haven't picked up any of my Father's calls or responded to any of his messages. Mum hadn't called me in a few days.

"That's it?" She asks, echoing my words.

"Yes...Oh! I talked to one of my cousins last week. He wanted to know if the palace was still holding the New Year's eve ball."

The Queen nods once, considering something. "Well, I suppose there's no easy way to tell you this."

"Who died?" I ask, suddenly worried.

"No one died. Don't worry about that," the Queen tells me. I guess that's a relief. "There has been a...dispute between our countries. A simple matter, but, it seems like it would be hard to resolve," she says, carefully choosing her words.

"What do you mean?"

"There was… a transfer of goods on a trade ship that we sent to Italy," the Queen says watching me carefully. When I don't respond she continues. "That means-"

"I know what it means," I say, cutting her off. Probably not the best move to make with the Queen of Illéa, but I'm not in the mood to think about politeness right now. I know what tampering with trade ships means, I know what it signals. I might not be part of the inner circle of my family, but I am far from a moron. Edmund wouldn't do that though. He doesn't have anything against the Illéans, as far as I know.

I guess I didn't really know him though. If that's what he did.

If that's what he did while I was in the palace, fully at the mercy of the Illéans.

The Queen takes a deep breath before continuing, "I suppose I don't have to explain to you what comes next?"

I shake my head silently, fully aware of what she's implying. After all, depending on the way you look at it, I guess I could technically be classified as a hostage. A member of the British royal family in the Illéan royal palace. Everyone knows what happens to foreigners in times of war. A prisoner. Though you would have to forget the fact that I was an invited guest. I don't know. The whole thing is too confusing for this early in the morning.

"Now, I feel bad saying this, but it would be best for you to stop communications with your family." The way she says it phrases it as a request but I know well enough that it's anything but. "If you could please hand over your phone?"

"My...My phone?" I ask.

"Yes."

I sigh, taking my phone out of my pocket and placing it on her desk. The Queen smiles graciously, "There will be a guard to your room later to collect your laptop."

"I have a paper due next week." I tell her. It's probably inconsequential all things considered, but I wouldn't like to flunk out of school while this is going on. Talk about rubbing salt on the wound.

"Of course. Don't worry about that, I'll personally make sure that you'll be furnished with a suitable laptop. I should be able to transfer over your stored data, it just won't be able to communicate with anyone who isn't on a pre-approved list."

I open my mouth to say thanks, but I can't do it. I end up just ducking my head, in a motion that I hope conveys enough gratitude, fake as it may be.

"If there are any issues with it, just tell me," the Queen continues, clearly trying to make the best of the situation.

"I will." I say quietly, not entirely sure that she will be able to hear me.

The Queen gives no indication, instead standing up from her desk. "Now, please come with me. There is someone I would like you to meet."

I follow her silently down the halls of the palace, down a staircase to the second sublevel of the basement. If I'm right, I believe that's where most of the areas for the guards and security detail are. I never had a reason to be down here before, but Carrie had given me a brief tour of the palace years ago, mentioning what was on the sublevels.

I know you should never judge a book by it's cover, but the room she leads me to has a door that looks like it belongs in a crime movie. A silver hunk of metal with a keypad embedded in it. "Wow." I mutter under my breath.

The Queen turns to me, "Oh, it's just for show. Don't worry."

That's the second time she told me that so far today.

I want to say that it would be hard not to, but I don't think that Her Majesty would appreciate my remarks. I don't need her to get upset at me and decide to, I don't know, revoke the laptop that she was planning on letting me use.

"Right."

After entering something on the keypad, the Queen opens the door motioning for me to come in. I tentatively step in, looking around. The room isn't bad, to be quite honest. It has a pair of rather nice looking chairs. They would never be in the upper parts of the palace, but they aren't exactly bad. The floors are cool gray tiles, though a rug had been placed under the chairs. My guess was that it had been hastily redesigned to seem more welcoming and the person in charge of it hadn't tried all that hard.

At least the Queen had attempted to make it look less like a holding cell for me. I should be appreciative of that.

Should be.

A vaguely familiar woman is sitting in the farthest chair from us, standing when she sees the Queen enter. Her skin is an olive color, and her hair dark brown. Her clothes are well-tailored, clearly expensive, but rather simple. She looks to be middle-aged, probably close to my parent's age.

"Henri," the Queen says, "This is Sable Reddlyn."

"Reddlyn?" I repeat, "Like Sebastian?"

The woman- Sable, smiles at me, "Yes. He's my son. You know him, I would assume?"

"Why wouldn't I? He's one of the selected. I see him everyday."

"Yes. He will be told that his mother is here, but under no circumstances will you reveal to him that you know what his mother is doing, or that you are in anyway involved in it," the Queen tells me, her voice more commanding -more threatening- than any time she spoke to me yet today.

"Of course." I agree quickly.

"Good. Now, Sable has kindly agreed to talk with you as a personal favor to me. I hope that you make her time worthwhile, as she does have many things to take care of at home," the Queen continues, her thinly-veiled threats not escaping my notice.

The Queen pats me on the shoulder, and then goes over to Sable. She obviously doesn't intend for me to hear what she's saying but the words echo in the mostly empty room, "Be gentle with him," she says quietly.

With that, the Queen turns and exits leaving me alone with Sable.

Gulp.

Sable smiles at me lightly. It's not a welcoming or kind smile like the one the Queen was attempting earlier. It was more the one of a predator that knows it has its prey in it's grasp. She takes a step towards me and I instinctively step back. She's at least an inch taller than me, and it's quite terrifying to be close to her.

How does Bas do it?

"Relax," Sable says, noticing my discomfort. "No one is going to hurt you."

Her words do little to comfort me, but I force myself to stop squirming. I force myself to stand up straight. I force myself to look like someone deserving of my title. This seems to satisfy Sable, and she comes closer to me, grabbing my face in her hand. It's uncomfortable, and despite my best efforts to keep calm, I stiffen.

"Such a handsome face," she says quietly, leaning close.

I don't answer her, nerves prickling up and down my spine. Sable smiles again, letting go of my face. "Now, there are two ways we could handle this. Either you can cooperate and we can have a pleasant discussion. Or, you can have this discussion with the captain of the guard."

It seems that we have moved on from slightly threatening phrases to downright ultimatums. As ridiculous as a thought it is, I wish that the Queen was standing in this room with me. She might be somewhat menacing, but at least I don't think that she would go as far as to actually threaten me. I suppose Sable has no such qualms when it comes to this.

I knew her job was something to do with Illéan security, everyone has heard of Sable Reddlyn and has read at least something about what the former selected are up to, but to be honest I assumed she worked as a tactician or something along those lines. Not this.

I wonder how much Bas knows about his mother's job. Going on the Queen's insistence that I don't say a word to him, it must not be much.

I don't answer, not entirely sure of where she is going with this.

"I suggest you choose me." Sable murmurs quietly. "You wouldn't want to mess up that pretty face of yours, now would you?" It's not a real question, so I don't provide her with a response.

"What's it going to be, Henri?" Sable asks again, demanding an answer.

"I'll talk with you." I say, hoping that my voice doesn't shake.

Almost instantaneously, the atmosphere in the room changed. Sable's expression changed from one of intimidation to a much more friendly look. "Perfect, why don't we have a seat?" She asks, motioning for me to sit in one of the chairs.

I comply quickly, sitting down before she has the chance to threaten me again.

"Well," Sable continues, "We'll be seeing a lot of each other in the future, so I suppose we should get to know each other. I'm Sable Reddlyn, and as you already surmised, Sebastian's mother. Now, why don't you tell me what you know about me?"

"You were part of Prince Lucas' selection." I start, "You didn't win, clearly. Then you married another one of his ex-selected, and I thought you worked for the security bureau, but I guess this is what you really do."

"Ah. Good. You've heard of me, saves me the trouble. Now, don't get me wrong Henri, I do work for the security bureau. There are certain parts of it that the public isn't aware of. For their own benefit, of course. No one but some of the higher ranking officials in the palace know, as a matter of fact." Sable tells me, her voice surprisingly cheery.

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"Of course you didn't, haven't you listened to a word I've said?" Sable asks.

"I did." I respond quickly.

"Let's move on then, shall we?" Sable asks, waiting for me to nod to continue. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself? Not where you went to school, or anything like that. I've read your files. Why don't we start with...your favorite color?"

"My...My favorite color?" I repeat, not quite sure I heard her question correctly. This took a turn from what I was expecting maybe 5 minutes ago. She's probably trying to build a sense of trust between us, I reason with myself. Get me to trust her so I will confess more things to her.

As if I have anything to confess. It's a smart strategy, don't get me wrong. It obviously works most of the time, but that's probably when the people she was interrogating -I mean, having a discussion with- actually knew anything about the matter at hand. Personally, I find this whole thing to be overkill. I can't share information with the royal security if I don't have any information in the first place.

"Yes," Sable says, "Your favorite color?"

I shrug lightly, "I like navy blue."

My already crummy day gets even worse when Mr. Brooms announces that we are going to begin working on the process of judicial review, and pairs us up for projects. By some cruel twist of luck and fate, I end up partnered with Tex, who apparently is next to me alphabetically. What I wouldn't give to be working with Owen Polls, or even Nishav Levesque, who was supposed to be Tex's partner. However, Mr. Brooms thought it would be better if Nishav worked on the project alone since there were an odd number of us.

Tex doesn't say anything as he goes to sit next to me, and I don't bother saying anything either. I've had a horrible day, I think my reluctance to talk to him could be excused just this once.

Our silence must draw Mr. Brooms' notice because he comes over to us, "Did you look over the project form yet?"

I answer for both of us, "No. Not yet." It's true. Neither one of us bothered to look over the sheet that contained the information for our project. Knowing Mr. Brooms it's probably something like a presentation or creating a poster. I try not to criticize his teaching style too much, but to be quite honest, it's almost as if he got his ideas off a website meant for middle schoolers.

Maybe he had. Who knows?

"Here, let me explain it to you boys: Just research the judicial process of what takes place leading up to, during, and after a court process. Then, put the information on a poster board. We'll hang them around the room."

At this, Tex finally looks up, "We're all doing presentations on the same thing?" He asks, judgment practically dripping from his voice.

"Uh...Yes. I think so." Mr. Brooms says.

"Won't that get boring? Having 14, or how ever many of us are left by that point, posters on the same exact thing scattered around?" Tex continues.

"Well...if you find something else you would like to do more, then feel free to make a poster on that. It's up to you." Mr. Brooms suggests, unsure of himself. With that, he moves away from us, going to check on Nyson and Divesh.

"Good job." I mutter to Tex. "I don't suppose you have any idea what you want to do for this, since apparently we can't do the judicial process like everyone else?"

"I haven't decided yet." Tex answers, "Why don't we ask for the Princess' opinion on it?" He gestures to Carrie who had just entered the room. At Tex's motion, she comes over to us, settling herself on top of the desk.

"So. What are you guys doing?" She asks, pushing back the sleeves of her pink sweater.

"We don't know yet." I answer bitterly.

"Oh. Why not?" Carrie takes the paper from the desk, looking over it quickly. "Aren't you supposed to be doing the judicial process?" She dangles the paper in front of us, shaking it from back to forth.

Tex smiles his annoyingly perfect smile, "Mr. Brooms let us do a special project." Tex tells her, not looking at me, "He thought we were too advanced for the judicial system."

"Too advanced?" Carrie repeats, "Well now, that doesn't make sense. What do you know about getting a law passed?"

Tex touches her wrist, "Please. I know enough." Carrie moves her hand away quickly, looking to me to see if I'm mad. Not mad about the thing with Tex, he's just a jerk. He wants to get a reaction out of me. She wants to know if I'm mad at her that I spent my morning being treated like a captive.

The short answer is yes. No one wants to be in this situation. If I had a choice in the matter, I wouldn't pick this. I understand why Carrie did it though. To be honest, if I was in her position, the heir to a throne, I would have let it go through. I know why it had to happen, and I might not be happy about it, but that knowledge is enough for me not to openly blame her for it. I don't blame anyone in the Illéan palace really. My cousin knew what would happen if he went through with it while I was there so effectively, this was his fault.

"So, if you know so much," Carrie asks, turning to Tex, "Why don't you tell me what you're going to do with your project, since you couldn't be basic and do the judicial system?"

"Do you have any ideas, Princess?" Tex asks, continuing to flirt with her.

"What, now it's my job to come up with this type of stuff?" Carrie asks, only half-pretending to be annoyed. "I thought this was the teacher's job."

"It was supposed to be." I mutter under my breath. Tex looks to me and doesn't say anything, clearly hoping that Carrie won't comment on it.

"Times change." Tex replies evenly.

"Okay...ideas. Why don't you make a poster on the best person to ever exist?" Carrie waits for a beat, "Me."

Tex almost looks like he's about to agree to it when I cut in. "Or we could do something else."

"Fine. Do you have any ideas, Your Highness?" Tex asks me, his voice scathing.

"Let's just do it on the public transportation system. How there are subways in some cities, public buses and railroads. It'll be pretty easy to find information on." I offer, it being the first thing that comes to mind. It's not like I've ever had a need to go on the subways, but they always seemed cool when I would walk past them.

Tex looks like he wants to disagree with me solely because it's my idea but Carrie answers for him, "Ooh. I like that. So it's all settled." She waves goodbye to Tex, squeezes my shoulder and makes her way back to the door.

Unfortunately for her, she doesn't make it out in time before Mr. Brooms notices her. "Your Highness," he calls, "Would you like to hear about some of the selected's presentations? Nishav had a very unique idea for his."

Carrie turns around, sighing once. "No. I have other things to do."

"What things?" Nyson asks from next to Divesh.

"Important things. Very important things. Very important things that don't concern any of you."

A/N: Hello everyone, and welcome back to my channel :D. I hope that you are all having a fabulous time doing whatever it is that your doing. Today is a pretty sucky day for me (Bloodwork, no fun). I can't believe that it's already Chapter 14, like wow. So, I did my plotting and if everything goes according to plan and I never miss an update day which seems very unlikely, it's going to finish March 8th. It probably won't, let's be real here. But...maybe? Who knows. Weirder things have happened. Anyway, have a great week and I will see you on Friday with the next chapter!