XIII. Revelation

Sometimes the truth was often stranger than fiction, and here I stood paralyzed in fear, with Queen Amice's pistol aimed right at me. Who she was this evening was different than who she was during the Twilight Ball. Perhaps the same person, but she hid her true nature extremely well.

"What have we here? A brave guest to join us!" Amice burned her gaze into mine.

I turned down the corners of my lips in a frown. I could not believe that the person I had been investigating... turned out to be someone else. Malevolent.

"How are you alive? We thought you were dead? You were dead!" I exclaimed in disbelief.

She merely curled her lip up in a smirk, her aim never wavering. When she talked, it was no graceful melody but a cadence of a selfish sinner. "Darling, I am the mastermind behind my assassination." She clicked her tongue. "I find you a waste of potential..."

"Don't you dare lay a hand on her, or else!" My mother threatened the Queen, but I was sure that she no longer was one.

"Adorable, but I shall lay a hand on anyone as I please." Amice shifted her target to Aunt Genevieve, angry. "You! Since when did bringing your family in here a part of the plan?"

Aunt Genevieve was unnerved by her daunting presence that radiated a ghastly energy. She stuttered, "I-I didn't mean to."

"Pathetic. No valid reason at all," Sir Quint scowled.

I raised my voice, causing Amice to transfer the direction of her hand-held weapon that could blow the life out of me any second. "Why are you doing this? I thought you were a good person..." I trailed off, frowning.

She clasped her abdomen, her whole body wrecked by a roar of laughter that erupted from her throat. Her aim wobbled in result of her wicked cackle. "Oh, darling, you are not cut out for the real world. This whole reality? It's a masquerade." She seethed, nearing her face which was contorted in a deadly glower. "I executed the mask well. Sequin smiles, and elegant mannerisms. But deep down, I am much more than that."

"Much more? What did you do?" I asked.

"Well, for starters, I recruited your aunt here," she pointed her pistol at her.

Aunt Genevieve blurted out, "You forced me, and I had to comply..."

"You are interested in the research of poison, are you not? I was informed that you're close associates with the alchemist who was fired from the castle, so I figured you'd be ideal," said Amice with a smug look on her face.

"Why are you even taking it this far?! You can simply back down from the throne, and pass your crown to Salome–" Mother was interrupted when Amice lurched forward to her, pressing the pistol to her chest.

She bled with fury, nose snarling. "Salome. Salome. My resentment for her grew seeing that she's the favorite. Even with her unbecoming ways, my parents were okay with it. But if I had done it... I'd be punished. They always blamed me for being a bad example to her!"

Mother spat her reply, bravely inching her face close to the fatal woman. "Perhaps you truly are."

"Please don't hurt my mother!" I pleaded, sensing that Amice would be enraged by what she said.

Amice snapped her gaze at me, smiling devilishly. "You love your mother that well, huh?" She moved away from her, and toward me. I backed away, but halted.

"I do. I care for her." I said firmly.

I glanced at my mother, who smiled, but was worried of Amice hurting me.

Amice sighed, and retreated from us, taking distance. She perched on a weathered wooden seat which had splinters. "How fortunate... You love your mother, but I detest mine..." She fiddled with her gun, playing with it like a child's toy. A dangerous toy.

"Of course... you wouldn't be in the world without them," I answered, steeling myself.

Taking that in, a question came out of her. "Do you remember Queen Victoria?"

"Your mother," Aunt Genevieve responded.

"You see, she was executed for regicide for the public finally see her as a cruel matriarch," she had a sinister storm brewing behind her eyes.

"She was... beheaded," I told her.

"You read your textbook well, but history can, well, depart from every sliver of truth. Every layer of lies." She reclined in her seat, crossing a leg over the other.

I experienced a chill racing down my spine at her words. It couldn't be. A thought went to my head. I had to confirm that gut feeling...

"Why do you say that about history?" I questioned.

She peered at her weapon, admiring the way she handled it. "They always say that poison is a woman's deadliest friend."

My heart clenched in my chest. "I suppose..."

"Luckily, I got away with my first murder," she raised her head up, and grinned. "There had to be change with this kingdom, and that begun with getting rid of my parents. So I cautiously slinked near my father, and bam! I injected poison into him. Nightshade."

"Y-you dare to kill your own flesh, and blood?" Mother gasped.

"I mean, I could do it again out of satisfaction. Anything to get rid of them always breathing down my neck, and ensuring perfection gracing the halls," said Amice. She did not seem to have any remorse. "Salome being away in India gave me the perfect chance to execute my murder. Then, I framed my mother for it, and she got what was coming to her. A public beheading."

"But, she did not commit regicide this whole time!" I widened my eyes.

"Ah, to have done it so subtly is the greatest achievement," she replied. "I could have taken her head as my trophy, but it had to be preserved and well-maintained. Let it rot for all I care. Beauty would dissolve as her skin pales and decays. I wouldn't want to terrify our guests."

Aunt Genevieve balled her hands into fists. "What else did you do that you did not tell me?"

"Before I went into the side effect of the poison you made, I made sure to instruct Quint with orders." She twisted around, and gazed at Sir Quint. "What did you do, my dear?"

Sir Quint, with his arms bound behind his back, cleared his throat and answered. When the truth came gushing out, I never saw a trail of regret in his eyes. "I killed Arnold, and his wife. The butler had the main lead that supposedly poisoned a royal to death. It was only right to falsely incriminate him." He added, "I'd do anything for Amice. She is my Queen."

My breath caught in my throat, as I stared dumbfounded at the truth. "B-but you took away innocent lives, and an unborn child..."

"I did what I had to do to secure that all the attention would go to Arnold, and that he'd be marked the assassin," said Quint in a cold tone. I assessed him for any hint of humanity, but all I saw was a ruthless killer, same with Amice.

I knew it was a frame-up. Arnold would never slay his wife. He waited to have a family of his own. He even rushed out his work to attend to his wife's needs. I became sullen, at the erased possibility of him becoming a father, and raising a child.

"You both are too much..." I said.

Amice arose, and crossed the room to press her gun at my forehead. "I am done helming this kingdom. And before we run away to the port, we will shoot each and every one of you." She smiled. "All of you know too much already. Bonus."

I had to talk to her, to appeal. "But shooting me down... and you'll have more blood on your hands. Are you really willing to do that to run away? Have you ever thought of the consequences?"

She did not falter. "There are no consequences here because I've wiped it all clean. Now, we will stage a family shooting here... beginning with you!"

My breath fluctuated, and I shuddered when her finger went for the trigger. But before she could blow my head off, she was shoved to the side when a shape leapt out in front of me. The pistol from Amice flew away from her hands, and slid across the floor.

"I warned you, bitch!" My mother cried out at her. Her hands went around the neck of Amice, strangling her, until she was pulled aside by Quint. "Hhhrk!" She grunted in pain when Quint slammed his foot at her abdomen.

Everything happened too fast for me to react.

A hand jutted out from nowhere, and grasped my arm. I looked up to Aunt Genevieve. "We must go. Your mother is making herself as a diversion."

I hauled my arm away from her, and glared, "I will not leave her behind."

"But you can't risk your life for someone who has mostly never been there. She left you!" Aunt Genevieve argued.

"At least she saved me from dying," I scowled before rushing toward Quint, and pulling him away from my mother. He staggered backwards, and his back hit the wall, but he recovered quickly.

Amice shook her head, and lunged for the pistol which was interrupted when Aunt Genevieve slammed her heel against her hand. Amice howled in pain, and let her other hand tug at the ankle of Aunt Genevieve, causing her to lose balance and fall to the floor.

They both struggle with each other, while I threw punches across Quint until his hand caught my fist. He elbowed mother in the face, then pushed me against the wall, with his firm grasp around my neck. He clutched tighter, his nails digging into my skin until red dripped out. His free hand went for his pocket to pull out a shiv.

He had his fingers around the handle, prepared, and drove his hand upward. He cocked his head to the side when he heard my mother lunging at him. Before he could react, my mother duelled with him. One of them had to steal the shiv away from each other.

I tried to help my mother, but we were both knocked helpless when Quint found a gap in our defense, and attack. He scrambled for the shiv, and pulled mother to plummet beside Aunt Genevieve. "Kill them. Now!" Quint barked.

Amice leveled her pistol at my mother. "You warn me, I give you the end."

"Aster!"

She pulled the trigger, and a resounding gunshot blared through the farmhouse. Amice grunted, and whirled around. She raised her pistol at me, and pulled the trigger!

BANG!

As the sound drowned out any other noise, my hand unconsciously reached for my abdomen... to find my dress already soaking with blood.

I pressed my back flat against the wall, and fell the floor.

Amice lurched for the window, and cussed. "Shit! The constables! Quint, we need to go!"

She pivoted, and aimed her pistol at me again, but Quint stopped her. "She will die. We need to escape. Quickly."

They both hurried out by the back.

I sat there. I failed.

The enemy had blood on their hands, and as were mine. The skin of my palm was coated in red. Thicker than water. Shock barely lacerated my nerves because a burning sensation dominated.

I struggled to stay awake. All that latched upon my head was the fear of failure. The fear that the crown had slipped through my fingers like sand.

I grunted, releasing a wail of agony. Right through the flesh of my abdomen was a raging inferno that flared from the piercing silver bullet. Slowly, the wind picked up the distorted arrival of music. Death.

This wasn't how I expected to conclude this life. Certainly, not expected.

Two silhouettes burst through the door, but I could not identify who they were. Everything was a blur. Their voices were far, and distant. I was pulling away from this world.

And as the unwanted tango with darkness yanked me closer to the embrace of shadows, the soul trapped in my body begged to float free as the deathly strings rose to a crescendo. With my last fire breath, my lips shaped the name of the monster who shot me.

"Amice..."

Everything became dark.

* * *

ROSALIE'S POV

I had high hopes that Ara would come back safely, but there was a flicker of fear that I'd lose her. The constable had to be at the farmhouse by now.

She instructed that they'd be a team. Shit.

I prayed two people were enough.

Then I cracked out of my own head, pondering over and over that I needed to get to the farmhouse. Arabelle could be in danger! Her mother, and mine as well...

I sauntered toward the knocking, and opened the door to greet...

"Lord Adrian?" I raised my eyebrows in unison.

"Hey, Rose. Is Ara here?" He asked.

"She's not."

Lord Adrian became concerned, and I had to explain to him what happened this night, and where Arabelle was headed.

"I have to reach her!" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"But Ara warns us not to follow in her trail. I already sent the constable over to check. They must return to us with news, or with them," I reassured him.

He and I sat in the living room, waiting, and tensed. When thirty minutes passed, he jolted out of his seat. "It's been long. Anything could happen to her.

"You're right. But we'll have to ride there with your vehicle," I answered as I stood up, and my feet claimed the floor.

We were to reach for the exit when the familiar chime of the receiver stretched outward to reach us. "Hang on. It must be from the constable." I picked up the call, and responded.

On the other end of the line, a voice crackled with rasp. "My lady, we found them... but they're in the hospital. One is in critical condition, and the other has taken a clean shot through the abdomen."

"How about the other?" I inquired. My heart leapt in my chest.

"Fortunately, she only took a hit to the shoulder, and she's talking to the inspector we called in. We also reined in a possible suspect," he informed.

"Thank you so much. We'll be there," I responded, then ended the call by placing the receiver back in place.

I turned to Lord Adrian, a solemn look plastered on my face. "They're at the hospital right now."

Lord Adrian, and I mounted his carriage, and took a drive from the grounds of House Ausleya, to the approaching horizon where Town Square was buzzing as usual. We made it as quickly as we could, and once we poured in the hospital, we asked the receptionist where three women were. After they answered, we hurried to the destination.

We burst in the emergency room, and my eyes descended upon a sight that tightly grappled my chest. There were two separate beds for two separate people.

I closed in on a figure under the cradle of a delicate moonlight slanting through the high-levelled window. "Mother..." She was unconscious so she could not hear the mention of her. Nurses filed in, bearing news.

"My lady?" The nurse grasped my attention. She reluctantly poured out the news. "Countess Genevieve is in a critical condition after taking a fatal gunshot to the... chest."

The anger I had toward my mother for keeping the truth from me effaced over a few days, and I had regretted not letting her in my world.

"Thank you for informing me," I mumbled in a sullen manner, and the nurses took note of the mood in the air. They decided to leave.

Witnessing her in this state felt like a sharp knife protruded from my chest, impaling my heart. It was hard to breathe with the reality crashing down.

I felt an arm on my shoulder.

"She saved me," a familiar voice whispered in grief... and guilt coated in it. I flicked my gaze at her, then back at my mother. Aunt Aster, or Antoine, I was not certain which name to go with but it was not the right time to bother... She had just told me about the heroic sacrifice of my mother.

"I wish I'd gone with Arabelle instead. Defy her," I said.

"Regret is one of the scariest things in life. I've gone through that many times..." Her voice faded into the abyss.

I closed my eyes, skipping back in time to when I stormed out of the living room in a fit of rage. Rage at the truth. I made impulsive choices. I chose to ignore my mother. I made those decisions out of strong emotion; an emotion that took over every conscious control I had. There was no emotional discipline in me yet.

A tear rolled down my cheek when I remembered the lulling thumps from my mother who gently rapped her knuckles on my bedroom door. Her muffled voice slipped past the barrier, but faint. "Rose... please let me talk to you."

I did not answer. I was numb, but I felt fire coursing through my veins.

At that time I screamed a question at myself. Why did she do that? Why did she hide it from me?

Then, I returned to the present only to have the view of her motionless body on a hospital bed flooding back.

"I regret not talking to her... We could have communicated, but I cut it off. She insisted that we have a chat. Instead, I shut her off," I rubbed my forehead.

"While there is time, and god forbid anything bad, I need you to sit down next to her, and... flush out every word in your head right now," Aunt Aster, or Antoine, advised. I pulled a chair, and collapsed on it.

I raised an arm up, and allowed my palm to hover over hers. A few seconds later, I landed mine on top. I sucked in a deep breath, and talked.

* * *

ADRIAN'S POV

The events of the evening left me reeling with distress. But the clinching sensation of fear, and anxiety worsened when I laid my eyes upon Arabelle. Had it not been for the constables, she would be a breath away from dying. And... I'd receive news that she had... passed. I strongly disliked that word. Having to announce the death of a person, a loved one in particular, could pull me back to a pivotal moment in a breeze.

Life in House Hemington used to be vibrant, until my half-brother, Louis, died from hanging himself. Outward, he had a smile that could never be stolen from him. Little did I know that inside, he was struggling with something heavy. Something serious.

Days went by after his suicide announcement, and we were in his funeral. Before his casket was lowered to the ground, we had eulogies. I proceeded with mine, and could not muster a paragraph. All that brushed my lips were, He had a smile that could light up the whole kingdom. He did service to others in making them happy, but could not for himself.

Somehow, I blamed myself. I did blame myself, and thought that it was my fault.

If I talked to him, or at least asked him if he was okay. At least once, then maybe... Maybe he would still be alive. But he was gone. It was in the past.

Elders would say that regrets we had from the past must be taken as a lesson for the present, and for the future.

I raised my head up to see Rosalie holding her mother's hand, and her lips moving to form words, despite her mother not being able to see, or hear as of now. On the other side of the hospital bed was the mother of Arabelle.

She caressed her daughter's forehead in a tender manner, and her loving eyes remained upon her. And then the silence was invaded by her soothingly spoken words. "You must be Lord Adrian..."

"I am," I answered.

She smiled. "Arabelle and I discussed the other day, about you. She said that she felt extreme contrite for her dishonesty. She wanted to turn back time, but I told her that we couldn't, and that we had to live with the choices we made."

I tilted my head at Arabelle, my lips hanging upward. "She visited, bringing a bouquet of flowers."

"Ah, so she did follow with her own suggestion after all. Good to know." She said.

"I... I love her," I confessed.

Her mother reacted in a grin. She did not appear to be surprised by it. "Once she wakes up, I bet she'd love to hear that, and would return the same words." She lifted her eyes up from her daughter. "You have my blessing, dear."

I rubbed the back of my neck, and smiled, "Thank you... Auntie."

Then, I brushed my knuckles along Arabelle's cheek in affectionate small strokes.

Suddenly, Arabelle's mother folded her arms with a sigh. A glare twisted her face. "Amice was caught by the constable, and is failing at lying spectacularly."

"Queen Amice?" I gaped at her statement.

"Yes. She's alive this whole time. Planned her own assassination to summarize. And she shot my daughter, and my sister-in-law." She balled her hands into fists.

I nodded, taking in the information. "I will go talk to her."

"She's in an adjacent room, pleading to the constables that she is innocent, and painting Sir Quint as the bad guy who held her captive." She rolled her eyes.

With one last glance at Arabelle, I left the emergency room, and strode down the hall to another part of the hospital. I took a peek from the door, and found Amice sitting with two other figures.

I made my way inside and contained the boiling anger in me.

"So you're alive..." I interrupted their conversation.

Amice swiveled her head at me with wide eyes. "Lord Adrian. What a pleasant surprise." She ascended, her height rising and stopped. "I am glad to see a friendly–"

"How could you?" I seethed.

She delicately placed a hand on her chest, and her jaw yawned open slightly. She looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, every inch of her facial features crinkling to a sad frown. "Why, aren't you happy to see me?"

I shot a hostile scowl at her. "You were behind the entire assassination plot, were you?"

Amice immediately pushed out a lie, in front of the observing constables. "Sir Quint took me away because he's vengeful of what he thought my parents had done to his older brother." She wiped at her eye with one dramatic slide of her finger. "He put me in the farmhouse... and I was drugged! Then, the Ausleya family came to save me but they fell victim to his pistol!"

"We'll wait and hear from the gunshot victims themselves." I glared.

Behind her pretentious gaze was smothered exasperation. "The suspect ran away without a trace!"

"I doubt that. Why do you have the address paper of your butler?" I questioned, crossing my arms.

Amice answered easily. "Of course, so I could have his service anytime."

"Uh huh. And the same butler died with a crumpled paper that said 'I KILLED THE QUEEN AND MY WIFE'." I pressed onto her. Before this evening, I contacted the inspector who was involved in investigating the suicide-like staged homicide in Arnold's home.

"Perhaps Sir Quint killed them after poisoning me," Amice rolled her eyes, shielding that gesture from the constables.

I looked over to the constables with a question. "Where did you find her?"

"At the back of the farmhouse, leaving traces of hurry. Footsteps go way back from the back door," the constable informed.

I turned my head back to Amice. "What can you say about that?"

Amice took time to formulate her response. "It. It was after the gunshots, that I decided to run away–"

"But it was only you who was found. If you had to run away, surely, Sir Quint would be following you," I told her.

"B-but he could have went out front–"

"We came to the farmhouse from the front, and we saw nobody flee there." The constable added which was a great help. I bet they were suspicious of her as well.

Amice continued to protect herself. "But everything happened so fast, I darted out! I didn't take note of where Sir Quint could have possibly taken off to."

"Thank you for your time."