CHAPTER 59
The intimacy had gone on for a couple of weeks. For Grace, these were some of the best moments of her life. She hadn't felt this at peace in years. Parkston was deeply in love with her and he saw her, not the body she wore but as Grace.
Despite everything, they carried on flawlessly in public. No one suspected a thing. Grace ruled with steady assurance, and the kingdom, it seemed, responded in kind. For the first time in what felt like forever, Alagascar was calm. Laughter echoed in the streets.
The scent of baked cakes drifted in from the markets. Children ran in the distance, carefree and loud. Grace sat in her chambers, her robe draped across her shoulders, her crown glinting in the warm light. Her reflection in the mirror showed someone strong, more composed and surprisingly content. She studied her broad shoulders and the way she'd learned to move beneath the weight of a crown.
Then, she heard a scream, a very loud one.
Grace turned her head, her body tensing. Another scream followed, and then more voices, maybe two, or four, or maybe seven or even more, echoing in panic. She stood swiftly, adjusted her robe, and reached for her crown, her fingers steady.
She was halfway to the corridor when Robert rushed in and they collided.
"Oh! King Quicke!" Robert exclaimed, clearly startled. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I wasn't looking."
Grace steadied him with one hand. "What's going on? Why are people screaming?"
Robert caught his breath. "They're not in distress, my king. Your people are waiting for you."
"My people?" she repeated, her brows drawn.
He gave a faint smile. "Everyone is."
He extended an arm toward the hallway. "I shall follow you."
Grace said nothing. Her eyes searched his face for answers, but Robert only smiled again and gestured politely.
The palace front yard was transformed. The streets beyond shimmered with color, lined with singing citizens, dancers, musicians. The air pulsed with energy. Grace stood frozen for a moment, struggling to absorb the sight. Her gaze lifted to the enormous banner stretched across the grand balcony.
"We appreciate you, King Quicke. Truly, you are god of peace. You've brought nothing but harmony to Alagascar."
She blinked, stunned. The words didn't quite settle. "God of peace?" she whispered.
"You're out already," King Charlenugo said as he appeared beside her. He helped her up to the high seat, where her throne awaited. Grace sat down slowly, her posture graceful, though her thoughts churned. She scanned the crowd. Every noble and citizen was present. The celebration was vibrant, perhaps even overwhelming. Streamers, Dancing, Laughter.
And yet Queen Jonah stood off to the side. Her body rigid, her eyes sharp with envy. She didn't clap or spoke. She only stared.
Grace forced a smile, her gaze moving beyond Jonah, pretending not to notice. The musicians continued. Dancers spun across the floor, and Queen Judith soon rose and lifted a hand.
The music fell quiet.
She cleared her throat, smiling brightly. "We are gathered here today for a joyous cause," she began, her voice calm but resonant. "To celebrate not just a king, but a kind of miracle. A ruler with rare abilities, whose reign has brought peace and strength to this kingdom."
A wave of applause followed. Queen Judith looked at Grace. "And I, perhaps most of all, am proud to see King Quicke, my son, thriving in his role. May this kingdom continue to rise under your rule."
Cheers rang out. Grace's gaze found Parkston in the crowd, he looked genuinely proud. Their eyes locked. In that moment, she let herself stop questioning, stop overthinking. He was here and to her, that was enough.
She gestured discreetly for him to come closer.
Parkston stepped forward immediately, bowing low. When he leaned in, she whispered, "Why am I being celebrated? What did I actually do?"
He gave her a quiet, mischievous smile. "Because you deserve it, King Quicke."
They held that gaze a second longer, warmth passing between them, before Parkston returned to his place.
The festivities resumed with renewed energy. Plates of food and glass of sparkling wine passed through the crowd. King Charlenugo chatted with nobles and Queen Judith moved through the assembly with her elegant signature.
Grace, for once, allowed herself to feel the celebration. Until out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Lady Juliet slipping discreetly out of the gathering, ducking through the corridor that led to the chambers. Suspicious.
Grace rose at once. "Excuse me," she said to no one in particular.
Without alerting the others, she followed Juliet's path swiftly. Her robe rustled with movement, but she moved like a quietly, keeping her distance.
Juliet was moving with purpose. She didn't glance back.
Grace rounded the corner just in time to see her press open a small door at the far end of the hall, it wasn't a commonly used entrance. It was a servant's path, maybe. Or something even more.
Grace waited a bit, then followed her through.
The hallway beyond was dark. The walls were bare stone, the bulbs were few and flickering.
Juliet didn't notice her yet. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. Grace stayed quiet, her footsteps were silent as she tailed her deeper into the hallway.
Then Juliet spoke, her voice was low, it was directed to someone unseen. "Did you find it?"
"Yes," came a man's voice. It was unfamiliar.
"Are you sure it's her?" Juliet asked.
"I'm not certain yet," the man said. "But I will be."
Grace stepped forward now. "Juliet."
Juliet froze. Slowly, she turned around. "Your Majesty."
Grace raised her chin. "What is going on here?"
Juliet hesitated. The man beside her didn't speak, he didn't even flinch, Grace studied him, he was tall, in a dark robe, his face partially concealed.
"I asked you a question," she repeated.
Juliet drew in a shaky breath. "We were investigating something. Nothing that concerns you, my King."
"Then why sneak away in the middle of a celebration thrown in my name?" Her tone was steady now in control. "Why hide?"
Juliet's mouth opened, then closed again. She glanced at the man as if hoping he'd speak.
Grace stepped forward. "You may not realize this," she said with a quieter voice now, "but your every move, Juliet, is beginning to look like treason."
Juliet's face paled. "It's not treason, I swear. I only followed a hunch."
"About what?" Grace asked.
Juliet lowered her gaze. "About your origins. About who you really are."
Grace composed her expression, she kept her body still. "And what, exactly, do you think you know?"
Juliet didn't answer.
Grace stepped closer, her shadow stretching across the stone floor. "This is your only warning. If I see you here again whispering with strange men in dark halls, questioning your King's identity, I will not be merciful. Is that understood?"
Juliet bowed low, her hands shaking. "Yes, Your Majesty."