Devrim's Discipline - Brianna Hale Page 0,4

apartment. Since the revolution, Mama’s only shed happy tears. If our family home is restored, maybe I won’t have to worry about her anymore. I might even see her smile.

And if we fail?

I take a shuddering breath. If we’re turned away from Court and have to live in the slums for the rest of our lives, it will destroy Mama. As much as I’m afraid of parading around at the palace in front of gawking strangers, I’m terrified of losing Mama, too.

So, I’ll put on an ugly dress and dance and curtsy, even though the Rugovas don’t belong anywhere near the palace.

Chapter Three

Devrim

“Archduke. Arise. Please.”

I look up from my kneeling position to find that King Anson is gazing back at me, his expression pained. “I’m not my father. You don’t need to abase yourself like that.” He mutters under his breath, “as I’ve told you before.”

I narrow my eyes, disliking his casual tone. King Gregor would never have spoken in such a way. King Gregor knew that kneeling and deference were the way things should be done.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I enunciate tightly as I get to my feet.

I stand to attention in my scarlet uniform. At least the palace is familiar. Twenty-seven years of neglect has been polished away, and the paintwork is fresh and bright. Overhead, the brass light-fittings gleam.

You’d never know that these rooms were once spattered with royal blood.

Beyond the French windows are the palace gardens, and a troupe of gardeners are restoring them to their former magnificence. Everything must go back to the way it was.

“Your Majesty, I’m here to discuss with you the opening of the Court.”

“Oh, yes. What about it?” He sounds almost bored.

“Do you wish the King’s Guard to flank you on the dais, or line the steps up to your throne?”

He waves his hand. “No need for any of that. It’s just a dance. Enjoy yourselves.”

I stare at him in shock. The King’s Guard has always been on duty at balls. At the Royal Barracks this morning, I told the men to prepare for it. The older members stared solemnly ahead, flanked by a dozen young recruits from the best families in Paravel. Is this punishment for failing to protect his mother and father? I want to protest and demand that we’re allowed to perform our traditional duty, but that would mean talking back to the King.

I bow smartly at the waist, and then back out of the room.

“You can just walk out normally, Devrim,” the King calls after me.

I walked quickly down the corridor, my uniform jacket feeling like it’s trying to choke me. Perhaps King Anson doesn’t want a guard filled with gray-haired men who couldn’t keep his parents alive.

At home, Aubrey is waiting for me in the dining room. Sunshine is blazing through the windows. It’s almost obscene how much golden light there is in this one room. I’m still not used to it. Light. Space.

“How was your meeting with the King, Daddy?” Aubrey asks, with a tentative smile.

People.

I stare at her for a moment, searching for something to say. Then I turn and glare at the wall.

Aubrey puts down her butter knife. “I’m sorry you hate it so much. Maybe we can redecorate?”

“What?” I snap, before I realize she means the wallpaper.

Aubrey shrinks in on herself. Her face is pale, and there are shadows beneath her eyes. I thought we’d share so much now that I’m free. As I laid on my cold, hard bed in prison, I imagined her on the outside. Bent over her homework or riding a horse in France, far away from the madness that destroyed our country.

Aubrey’s not going to be happy living here with me. She should marry and have a proper life.

I stretch my hand out to hold hers. “You’re so young, and so beautiful. I want you to have everything that I didn’t have. You should get married, as soon as possible.”

Aubrey looks at me in surprise. “There’s time enough for that. I’m only twenty-four. I’ll settle for getting to know my father first.”

I draw back. She doesn’t understand. There’s nothing to know. Nothing I’m proud of, anyway.

Aubrey seems to cast about for an appropriate topic of conversation. “Are you looking forward to wearing your dress uniform at a ball? Mama often told me how handsome you looked in it.”

“Did she?” I say absently. Moira and I knew each other for three months before we were married, and then had only six weeks together before the revolution.

“Mama loved you, you