The Masquerade Part 2

" I looked at the video of his death.  Someone dressed in the rags of a beggar stands near the barrier."  Smith began.  It was a packed day with visits to local schools, and hospitals; the type the old King enjoyed because it gave him a chance to be among his people.

Smith picked up a series of photos and set them out on the table in an order.  "Here's him coming out of the hospital," Max was on duty that day.  He remembered Eric grasping hands, and arms.  He'd occasionally stop for photos or a quick word.  The people loved their king.

"And then we get to this one," Smith picked up a single photo of a man dressed in jeans, and a sweater; the hood hiding his face.  Max remembered seeing the man leaning against a barricade.  He remembered a gold ring catching the sunlight.  Eric clasped the man's hands, and whispered a word to him.

"No angles on the video?" Max asked.

Smith shook his head. "I found signs of a jump cut, and timecode jumping ahead by 10 minutes.   Max led him to his office and shut the door.  The idea of a mole amongst them was something he didn't want to consider.

"I want you looking into this.  Look at associations, networks, professional interests of the other heirs.  Look at his calendar that day, and everyone who came into contact."

"Yes sir," Smith took it as an order.  He saluted as he left the office.  

"I don't want to be Queen,"  The comment echoed. If she'd said that to others then someone might be willing to make that happen.  He dismissed it with a decision he would only take it to Evangeline if he found tangible evidence.

***

 "A masquerade theme makes sense," Catherine agreed.  The mystery and romance appealed to Evangeline; her childhood of escaping into others' clothes for a while, pretending she belonged.

They would make a guessing game of trying to figure out who everyone was.

No corsets," Eva said.  Planners would split the place in smaller chambers.  One area with sofas, and cozy chairs for couples, and non-dancers.  Another for acrobats and magicians.   A raised platform at the front where she, and her closest court would sit.

"Have you picked a dress?" Catherine asked. 

"Meeting with designers is next," Eva wanted her gown to be a complete surprise to everyone including Catherine.  She had several sketches on her desk, and was narrowing it down.  She wanted to ask Max his thoughts.

"It's an older frock for me.  A classic one-shoulder deep violet number with the skirt below the knee."  Eva remembered it from her cousin's wedding.  It would set off her pale complexion, and blonde hair.  

They stopped at a table with colour swatches.  "Keep it simple.  Black, and gold for the décor, silver for the seat coverings.  Add colours in for the furnishings," Eva wanted to have a say on the details.

"Is that all you need for now?" 

"Yes Your majesty.  We will be in touch for a final walk-through," Daniel said.  Eva nodded and made for the door with Catherine not far behind.  

She paused his station, and he acknowledged with a wink.  They worked hard at separating the private from public.  "Next meeting is with the ambassadors who have come to present accreditations," Catherine read from her mobile.  

"I'll see you later Commander."  He dropped a deep bow, his eyes locking with hers until he stood up.  He brushed his hand against her side.

*****

"10 more to go," she whispered under her breath. Eva's responses became automatic by the third ambassador.  A smile, then a nod and a clasp of hands followed by a quiet word.  Her tutors had taught her well, and she'd remembered which ones had children or whose spouse had died.

"Let me through, I'm Princess Olivia.".  She stood before him with her arms crossed.

"The Queen is receiving ambassadors right now."

"I don't care, I need to see her now,"

The commotion attracted Max, who nodded at the princess. "I've got it from here" he instructed his subordinate.  He was interested to see how this plays out.

He followed her into the reception room.  "Forgive the intrusion Your Majesty..." proper courtesy would be observed.

Olivia cut him off pointing at Eva.  "You killed him.  You killed him so you could take the throne yourself.  He chose you over his children, and you couldn't wait."

The outburst cracked Eva's calm façade.  She finished with the ambassador standing before her, and whispered to the courtier standing closest to the throne.  "The Queen needs her rest, and would like to receive the remaining Ambassadors two days from now at a breakfast.  She regrets the inconvenience.

Eva sat her arms resting on the carved armrests as the remaining three ambassadors left with quick bows. Olivia's outburst would soon be the gossip of the court.  She motioned for Max to shut the door.

"I didn't kill him," she said.  The Royal seat switched every five generations among the nobility.  It was an option to choose an heir that was not a direct issue of the reigning monarch.  Eric told Eva of his decision days before, and asked that it be kept secret until the final pieces were in place.  

"You as good as killed him.  You stood by while he choked in the middle of the crowd," Olivia shouted.  She was jealous of Eva; everything came easily to her.  Eric took her in after her parents died in an accident, and they'd hit it off.

"We both know that wasn't the case," The video of that tour lived on in archives of the world's news stations, and on the hundreds of mobile phones, and closed-circuit cameras.  Clips of Eric joking with children, reading them stories, playing with their toys.  He called it; lesson 1 in how to be a monarch, and he was good at it.

Eva stood and joined Olivia at the foot of the dais, Max shadowing from one side.  She grasped her cousin's hand between both of hers.  "You can't imagine how many times I've wished there was something I could've done.  If I'd been more observant and seen what happened or if we'd changed places.  I saw everything in my head the moment I closed my eyes that night."

Olivia regarded her cousin for a few moments trying to gauge sincerity.  She let the breath go and blinked away tears.  "I miss him so much," she said.  She still wasn't over her father's death.  She took her hand back, and walked out of the hall.

Max waited until the door shut before approaching Eva.  "You handled that well,"

She stared at the closed door. "Did I?"  Olivia had given her reason to suspect otherwise.  He responded by kissing the back of her hand.

"Make sure she's not planning anything."

"Yes my Queen," Max replied, careful to hide the smile from his face..  It gave him official cover to look into the princess, and princes.

NaNoWrimo Entry: 2019- The Masquerade

This is meant mirror National Novel Writing Month.  Obviously it won't be that long because it is for the web.

I have an opening scene in mind, and a rough idea for some characters, and how I want it to play out.  If you have a better idea for a title, say so in the comments. I don't have much of a sense of how I want it to end. I just know I want to have fun with it.  I hope you have as much fun reading it.

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Part 1:

"I don't want to be Queen."  The admission had been building inside Evie since her father died.  At first she pushed back against it, attributing it to competing stresses of mourning, and planning for a coronation.  Once she said it though, a certain weight was lifted from her shoulders.  It felt true; it felt right.  

"So don't," a muscled arm snaked around her, pulling her close.  She wriggled free, and propped herself up on an elbow looking down at her bedmate.

"So easy to say..." She began before he reached a finger up across her lips. She laughed at the gesture.  "Everyone wants me to fail.  Everyone expects me to be the one running away," The satisfaction of doing the unexpected put a smile on her face.

Her parents died under mysterious circumstances while away on a state visit, with little investigation.  Eric took her into his household treating her as one of his own.  She had no idea he any idea of making her the heir over cousins Simon, Edward, Olivia, and Alice.

"Be the best Queen Wallison has ever seen."  She snuggled against his arm, smiling.  Max's optimism was one of things she enjoyed most about him.  He was one of the youngest commanders in the household guard's history.  They'd known each other since they were teenagers, enjoying an easy friendship.  One night it blossomed into more, and neither looked back.

She stroked his stubble-filled chin. "I'd lose you," 

"One of us has to lose.  If the realm loses, I win.  I lose, and the realm wins.  If their relationship were to go forward, he wanted nothing like that between them. Do you want the truth?" She moved back to her side of the bed facing him.  

Go ahead. "

He took both of her hands in his and looked up. "You shouldn't make decisions like this right now; you're still in mourning.  You're planning a coronation, learning how to govern a country."

"True."  It echoed her own thoughts.  It was a lot to take at 30; when her friends were having babies, she was learning statecraft.  She wanted someone at her side, and there was no reason she couldn't elevate him.  Once she wore the crown, the pressure would be on her to marry, and provide an heir for Wallison.

He took his smart watch from the bedside table.  Three missed calls from the duty officer.  He swung his legs over the side of the bed.  "My break's over love,"   She watched him don his black uniform with red stripes on the shoulder denoting rank.  He located his boots near the chair at the end of her bed, and pulled them on.

He strode towards the side of the bed snapping to attention: "I'll leave you now Your Majesty,"

"Dismissed Commander,"

*****

Max retrieved his earpiece from the front pocket as he strode down the hall.   As he opened the staircase, he turned it on.  "You have something for me, Smith?"

"In person, sir."

"I'll be there soon." Max tapped his earpiece off.     Eric's autopsy said he'd died of a sudden heart attack.  The man's fitness level was that of someone half his age.  He started his days with a jog around the castle's perimeter, followed by some weight training.  On rainy days he'd stick with swimming in the indoor pool.  There was no history of heart problems in the royal family. 

Musings has moved

Musings has moved to word press.  The new address: www.musingsonthefunsideoflife.com.  Google has stopped supporting Internet Explorer 11 for its Blogger platform, so instead of downloading Chrome or Fire Fox just for this one website I chose to move it.  Hope you'll follow me!

The Road Not Taken

A single note echoed through the hallways as she walked her nightly rounds making the house secure.  The piano player would play for the same two hours every night, ending with the same song. The song's final note would find her like a homing beacon, and she'd always wonder at the emotion behind it.




What happened to make him (for in her mind the pianist was a he) that sad? Everyday she made up stories as she fell asleep.  One night he was a heartbroken nobleman, his wife dead in childbirth.  The next he was a runaway orphan, the song the only one taught him by his mother. Tonight he was... she slapped the house key against her hand thinking a moment.  She couldn't think of tonight's story yet.  She closed the front door's inside lock with a click, and a decision: tonight she would ask the truth.  She let a smile spread across her features; the picture would come together.




She slipped the keys into her dress pocket as she climbed the stairs.  She could make out the flicker of light from the music room door; third on the right at the top of the stairs.  Her hand paused on the doorknob suddenly unsure.  Was she letting her curiosity get the better of her?






She turned the knob slowly opening the door a crack.  He was leaning against the mantle, back to her staring down at the flames; a lively fire jumping at him.  His face covered by the one arm.  His straight shoulder length black hair hanging straight.  By physique he was a soldier or a tradesman;
his muscular back tense.






"Forgive my intrusion.  I just wanted to see if you needed anything before I retired.  The back straightened the arms leaving the fireplace.  She took one step inside the room as he turned.  His looks were spoiled by a pinched scar running diagonal across his cheek. What held her rooted to the spot was his eyes.  Ice-blue; guarded but friendly, young but holding hard-won wisdom.






Cold, impersonal: "I'm fine Madame."






"You play very well sir.  May I ask the piece?






"It's Ned.  I wrote the music,"




A name deserved a name: "I'm Myra."




"Pretty name," he complimented.  Without realizing it she'd entered taking a seat by the fire.  His eyes watched her closely.  He wanted to tell her to get out, but felt he couldn't; it was her house.  He sighed:

"I was a soldier in the north, come here to find work as a labourer." 






"The song?" She asked.  He followed taking a spot on the couch opposite the chair.  He folded his hands on his lap, studying them as if they held the answer. 




Myra stood cringing; cheeks colouring with embarrassing. "Too personal.  It's a habit; I meet people, and talk too much.  Ask the wrong questions."




He interrupted her babbling: "Mourning for a road not taken.  I was a nobleman where I come from, betrothed to another man's daughter. She made it obvious she loved another, and a soldier's life was an easy choice. 


"They're no longer together"  She held his gaze a moment guessing what happened next: "Love is fickle."


"It is indeed.  What's your story?"


"Mine? Not much to tell. A nervous half-smile:


"An only child, my parents left me this place." She elaborated: "I was a disappointment; a girl when they would've preferred a boy.  Mom got over it, dad didn't.  Eventually she saw I was educated, and persuaded my father to make me his heir.  "He died shortly after." 






Myra played with the beads on her bracelet, counting them in her head.  She bit her lip forcing herself not to speak.  She'd told her story often enough to know the pity written on his face without looking.  The tsk tsking at society's shame, but the lack of willpower to do anything about it.






"Aren't we a pair," the dry, teasing tone drew her in.  She looked up at him noting the mischief glinting in his eyes.  She started laughing.  At first he watched in wonder; her face completely changed when she laughed; the cares melting away from her.






She stopped when the tears started falling placing a hand on her chest to check her breath.  Formality was restored: "I forget myself sometimes; it's another bad habit.  It's time I went off to bed.  Your breakfast as usual?"


"That would be lovely" A smile, eyes twinkling.  She shut the door behind her sighing.  A riddle solved, a friendship made.

Book Review: Empress Of The Night

Catherine The Great is arguably one of history's greatest women.  She reigned as Tsar of all the Russias from 1762 until her death in 1796.   Canadian Author Eva Stachniak looks back at Catherine's life, and loves in her latest novel: Empress of the Night.

The novel opens in the hours before her death at age 67.  It goes inside Catherine's head as she struggles to realize what's happening to her body; she's conscious and unable to speak.  The story is told from her point-of-view looking back on her life from the moment she first arrived at court as a little girl, to her assumption of the throne following a coup against her husband. These flashes are interspersed with sections of time in the present as servants, and family move around her.

The novel keeps a good pace, which, is unexpected because of how easily moving between time periods can become confusing.  The incredible details speak to Stachniak's research into Russian history.  Long descriptions of the palaces, and traditions give readers a feeling of the grandeur of a Russian Empire at its peak.

As a history buff I loved it.  Being able to see inside Catherine's head is a unique perspective to find out what she thought of her life.  The way the author used an active voice throughout moved the story along well.  There was even a dose of romance as she looked back on her lovers, specifically Gregory Potemkin who made the most impact on her life.

A good read for people who are curious about Russia in its prime, and a key figure who made it that way.

Novelists at Work: Update 2.

Lately I haven't been keeping to my 2 hours, or 1,000 words today.  There have been times when I've felt I've written myself into some corners and had to either go back and delete or change what I've done. Other times when I've found myself blocked with how to get one character to where they need to be.

Progress to date:
Pages: 60 up 10 from the last time
Words: 27570 (up 4,498 from my first entry)
Problems/issues: The whole deleting/changing things frustrates me because it keeps me from that goal of one thousand/ day.  But I figure: Why can't this be such, and such a way? And it's the author's prerogative to change stuff they don't like.

Editing and insecurity will always be with me.  Reading through the latest 15 page chunk I made few changes but am feeling pretty good about what I wrote.  But will an Editor agree? Will it make sense with the final story?  How have you dealt with this?

 

Bitten Finale Review

Bitten ended its first season Saturday night.  The series is based on the "Women of the Other World books written by Kelley Armstrong.  It focuses on Elena Michaels (Laura Vandervoort), the world's only female werewolf and her quest to be normal.  She's living her life as a photographer in Toronto when she's pulled back in by her pack.

The first season stuck close to the book with the possible exception of the finale.  The good guys won the final battle at Stonehaven (of course), but there was a twist.  The bad guy trying to take over the house was none other than Jeremy (Greg Bryk)'s  father; William (James McGowan). The other twist was that final scene where Elena screams after finding   Phillip (Paul Greene's) (?)'s head in her bed.

I didn't watch this show regularly.  I watched a few episodes in the beginning, and then really got into it the last 3, or 4 episodes.  As a season, it seemed there were episodes where nothing much happened to advance the plot.  And I didn't care enough to go back and watch them online when I missed an episode.  If there's a season 2, the consistency in writing needs to be addressed.  I think the episodes should be treated as chapters and the writers should ask how they can move the story forward. 

There were times when I didn't buy Laura Vandervoort as Elena; she played her too black and white sometimes, and  I didn't get the sense of the character's duality.  The other characters with the exception of Jeremy, and Paul weren't that interesting to me.  And that was nothing to do with the actors, mostly the writing.

A second season only works if it's less about Elena.  I'd love to see more of the Jeremy/William storyline, and Logan/Rachel
 .
Bitten Musings:

-I don't know if I'd watch second season.  Based on the second part of season 1, yes... first part no.

-Is there a chance Jeremy had Phillip killed, and the killer double-crossed him by working with William?

-Is there a chance  Phillip's still alive? (remember there's only the flash of the head in her bed).  There's a lot more drama to mine there between him and Elena.

-Is Rachel about to become a werewolf as part of William's sick plot.. maybe see what happens when a pregnant woman is bitten?