A Guardian's Fate (Book #2)

Chapter One

"But he does," a girl with raven black hair hissed to her closest companion. "He truly does!"

The captain heard her and sighed. "Annaliese, since you decided to give us your input, how about you and your friend Kenneth go up next?"

While everyone stayed distracted, pointing to who they wanted to spar against, Booker slipped away. Once hidden safely behind the barracks, the helm was removed, and Elouise exhaled. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulders, and she ran her fingers through it.

Then she grinned, clutching the helm beneath her armpit. Having to wear that still hadn't gotten any easier. She'd been doing this for the past few months. It quickly became a weekly activity for her whenever she could sneak away.

Fortunately for her, the real Booker never questioned why she wanted him to run errands for her on certain days. Today, she'd asked him to go into the market for some oranges—the best and biggest he could find. She knew the search for the best kind would take Booker at least half the day. Elouise had learned that he was quite meticulous.

Admittedly, she felt bad about tricking him like this all the time. So she would thank him by paying him in a generous amount of gold coins. Another fortunate quality about Booker was that he also never suspected her of lying, even when her stutters were awful or she couldn't look him in the eyes. He simply did as he asked and thanked her when she paid him. (He sometimes refused payment, though.)

Before anyone came looking for "Booker," Elouise teleported to her bedchamber. She then removed her armor and hid it with the sword behind her dressing corner, where she now forbade her maids from cleaning. She could be cleverer, she supposed, but she didn't have much time to create the perfect hiding spot.

Elouise changed back into her light blue satin dress and checked herself in the looking glass beside her window. Her hair remained a mess from the helm, so she brushed it through a few more times before reaching for two jewel pins and moving her hair away from her face. Satisfied, she nodded and exited her room.

Elouise made her way toward the library and halted halfway when she was suddenly bombarded by noblemen. She blinked slowly, attempting to make out what they were saying to her. She caught something about them needing her assistance on an important matter and—wait. Why her?

She raised her left hand, signaling for them to quiet down. They obliged.

"Where... where is my father?" she asked them, and her heart did a small flip. She had a feeling she already knew the answer.

"He is not feeling well again, Your Highness," one of them responded. "We are in urgent need of your assistance. Please follow us."

Elouise allowed them to lead the way, unable to listen properly because she kept jumping to conclusions in her head. This was the tenth time in the past two weeks that her father was put back to rest after getting up for the day. They were only three months into the new year, too. If it were entirely up to Dr. Rolfe (which it wasn't because her father was stubborn), he would've ordered her father to permanent bedrest until whatever illness ailed him completely dissipated. This whole ordeal sounded frighteningly familiar to Elouise.

She blinked hard, clearing her vision. But as she knew, history often repeated itself...

Elouise and the council entered the small room behind the throne room. She'd gone in here a handful of times with her mother. It'd always been a wonder to her how such a long table could be filled by everyone on the council. Her child self couldn't believe so many people worked with her mother. And it seemed some things never changed, because Elouise was still stunned by the many eyes that turned to her.