The Kings of Us [boyxboy - DISCONTINUED]

Chapter Four - Come To Me

CHAPTER FOUR—

COME TO ME

Ana knocked on the double door.

She had walked through the Guise gardens, the perfectly sculpted rows of bushes and trees were intricate. The man who had assisted her transport had helped her navigate her way through it. Then, she had given her gratitude and he was on his way.

The door creaked open slightly, and a woman with skin of chocolate peaked out her head. "Who are you?"

"I am here to see Edward. He offered me a job to be a maid."

"I will go find him to see what he said. Please wait here."

Ana leaned against the wall, waiting. She hated waiting.

In fact, she did not even know why she had decided to visit Edward. She was not interested in him romantically or otherwise, though she had noted that he was of a wealthy family, judging by the size of the estate. She had preferred adventure to men, much to the dismay of her parents.

Her parents.

She wondered what had happened to their bodies, and Maria's. What had the Bolsheviks done to them?

Raped them, probably. Then what?

Her tutors knew that she was disinterested in what they had taught her, but they knew that she was no fool. She had kept up to date on the news of Russia, even now, through broken conversations and details she gleaned from the newspapers she had stolen in the palace.

She knew her father was an awful ruler. He was not prepared for autocracy when his father died—and neither was his mother when they had married. It was not that he was an evil ruler—but that he was ineffectual simply because he was clueless. He let the populace of Russia starve—and he was not aware of the power they wielded.

If he had implemented the Duma sooner—and respected it more—if he had attempted to implement social reforms that Britain and other western powers had implemented—if he did not engage in a preposterous war with Japan—if he had listened to his advisers—if he denounced autocracy and gave the Duma more power—so many ifs—but maybe—maybe—if he had done all of those things—he would not be dead today.

Despite his stupidity, Ana did not have it in her to be angry at her father—or even at the Bolsheviks. They had done what they needed to do to ensure their rule was secure—and for that, she grimly respected them.

George was the one to blame. He was aware his cousin was hated by his people, knew that he and his family were going to be slaughtered—and yet he sat on his throne and did nothing. Even if an anti-German notion was prominent in Britain—and would therefore affect her mother—even if granting them political asylum would have caused an outrage—he still could have helped—could have rescued them and disguised them. But he didn't. Family are meant to help each other—but he didn't—and he was not family—not to her.

She imagined herself slipping into his room at night, wrapping her fingers around his throat and watching as—

"Annabelle?"

Ana looked up. Edward was standing at the door, wearing a brown sack coat on top of a white shirt. His black, clotted curls moved in the breeze.

"I thought you were a maid lying about having a job here, I—"

"Well," she said. "That's the charade I told. I stole a maid's outfit to make it seem more legitimate."

"I do not understand," he said. "Why did you lie?"