Royals and Rebels book 5: The Thistle Prince

One: Fiona Fallon

One

Fiona Fallon

            When you are a sixteen-year-old girl, the most terrifying thing in the world to hear is whispering. Because, more likely then not, it’s about you. Something you did or didn’t do. In the end, most of the time, people don’t care what your truth is. They only care about the salacious details of the truth. No matter how fabricated it was.

            There was always going to be talk about me.

            After all, I was the girl who lived in the castle. People hated me just for that. They didn’t seem to realize that just because I lived in the castle, I wasn’t living a fairytale.

            I was ten years-old when my parents died.

            My father was a soldier. One night, he was home on leave. We were coming home from dinner at the pub. I remember him and my mother were dancing in the streets together. That was when a stranger in a venetian mask came out from the shadows.

            “Darrow Fallon,” the stranger said, “I know what you did!”

            I saw my Dad’s face pale. He had brown hair, a long nose, and blue eyes. He was a big, tall man, with a boyish smile.

    The strangers mask was red and gold.

    “Please,” my Dad begged, “please, don’t do this. I’m with my family. My girl, my wife---”

    I remembered cowering behind my mother, gripping her hand.

    “No!” the stranger shouted. “You ruined lives, and I’m goin’ to ruin yours.”

    Then, there was the gun shot. Two of them. One for my Mum, one for my Dad. The stranger in the mask towered over me, like they were thinking about whether or not to fire a third shot. The gun hovered over my head.

    “I’ll leave you to your fate,” the stranger sneered.

    Like a lost girl version of Bruce Wayne without the money to comfort him, I crumbled in the street with my dead parent’s bodies as they bled out. Screaming and crying. When they died, I was taken in by my Nan.

    My last, living relative.

    There was just one, small problem. Nans job. For as long as I could remember, Nan had worked in the palace as a nanny. She got the job straight out of high school because her aunt had worked as a palace housekeeper.

    Nan had proudly overseen two generations of royals and was now on her third. Faodail was the main Scottish castle. I remembered the first day I arrived there, after my parents funeral. I was wearing a black dress, a black pea coat, and Nan had tied my red hair up in a big, black bow.

    Nan lived in the castle, in the servant’s quarters. Since I would be joining her, we were going to live in the castle tower, which had been converted into an apartment for us. “Now,” said Nan, getting down on her knees so that she was eyelevel with me, “we’re going to meet some very important people today. Can you tell me who?”

    “The Royal family,” I answered.

    She smiled. “Yes. That’s good. What does one do when you meet a royal? Can you show me what we practiced?”

    In the weeks since my parent’s death, I’d not had a moment of rest. Nan had trained me in comportment befitting a servant even though I wasn’t going to be one. Because I was her granddaughter, and represented her, I would still have to act like it. I was trained to curtsy, to make tea properly, how to scrub silver.

    It was late Spring when my parents died. Scotland in late Spring was uncertain, and you never knew if it was going to rain or snow or whatever. But on that particular day I arrived, it was raining, and grey, as if the weather knew I was miserable and wanted to match my mood.

    I curtsied for Nan, showing her I knew what to do.

    Nan hugged me close. “Good!” she smiled and stood up, grabbing my hand. “Now remember, you must be pleasant. Especially with Prince Declan. Do what the royals tell you. It depends on us staying here, alright?”

    “Alright,” I agreed.

    “There’s a good lass.” Nan smiled at me, and we went up a large, winding, mahogany staircase. We did not stop until we reached a butler standing outside a large door. “Are they in there, James?”

    James nodded. He was a young man, with blue eyes that sparkled and red hair. “They’ve been waitin’ for ye.” When he saw me, he smiled. “And who’s this Miss?”

    “This is my Granddaughter,” Nan said proudly, “she’s goin’ to be stayin’ with us.”

    “Ach,” he said, “is that the one that---”

    Nan gave him a warning look, and young James seemed to understand. He was at least sixteen, and very charming.

    “Well,” said James, “welcome Faodail, little Miss. We’ll make it a home for you yet.”

    He opened the door for us, and we slipped inside what appeared to be the family room. Sitting on an emerald green settee was the King of Scotland, a glass of scotch in his hand. He had a salt and pepper grey beard, and brown eyes. Next to him was his son, the Prince of Scotland, who had blond hair, and blue eyes, and then there was his son, the youngest Prince.

    Prince Declan, who Nan babysat.

    The babies were too young to be there, and Prince Declan’s mother was off caring for them.

    The first time I saw Declan, he had just turned thirteen. He was born in April, though there was nothing Spring like about his disposition. He was dour, and moody, and had just started his first year at private school. He was home for the weekend and dressed poshly in a suit looking like a mini replica of his father.

    When he saw me, he sneered.

    “Who’s this?” he said.

    “Declan,” said the King, “you be nice now. This is Miss Fiona Fallon. She’s going to be stayin’ in the palace with Nanny Fallon. She’s her granddaughter.”

    Declan’s face fell. “Oh, is she----”

    The King shot him a look, and my stomach sank. I knew exactly what they were talking about. Is she the girl with the parents who died? It was all anyone asked anymore.

    “Terribly sorry, Nanny Fallon. He knows better,” said the King.

    Nan grimaced but smiled at the same time. “It’s quite alright, your majesty. Remember what we practiced, Fiona, darlin’?”

    She looked pointedly at me. Reluctantly, I let go of her hand and I curtsied to the family. “Thank you for letting me stay, your majesties.”

    The King and Prince chortled like they thought it was the cutest thing they’d seen and Declan rolled his eyes.

    “Suck up,” he muttered.

    I clenched my fists and looked away. Why was he being so mean? I didn’t even know him. I wanted to scream, and hit him, but I didn’t.

    Declan’s father walked over, and he knelt down before me. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Fallon. I was great friends with your father. I’m glad you’ll be livin’ here with us.”

    “Thank you, your majesty. I’m glad too.”

    He smiled at me, and when he did, I saw Declan looking at me with rage filled eyes that I couldn’t understand. I became certain of one thing: the Prince hated me, and it was going to be a long, six years.

    So, I moved into the palace with Nan. The tower became my refuge. I’d been let out of school early because of what happened with my parents. So, all summer long, it was where I stayed, and played.

    I was given books, and sketch pads, and anything to keep me occupied while Nan watched the children. I was old enough to look after myself, apparently. But Declan wasn’t. I wondered if it was just because he was a Prince.

    One day, when I was sitting on my bed reading, the door opened an in came Nan with Prince Declan.

    I jumped up, and curtsied, just like she’d taught me.

    “Nan,” I said, “is somethin’ wrong?”

    Nan smiled and glanced down at Declan. “Declan, why don’t you tell her your idea?”

    “I…. well….” he coughed. “I wanted to see if you would like to come play with us by the river. My friend, Oliver, is here. He was curious about you. Saw you in the window. He thinks you’re a ghost.”

    A ghost.

    Funny, since my parents had died, that was what I felt like.

    I glanced at Nan. “Nan says I’m not supposed to play with you.”

    “Well, it’s what I want. And I’m the Prince, which means I’m your future King. Don’t you want to make your King happy?”

    I saw Nan’s expression darkened a little, but she only nodded. “Alright,” I said, “I guess…. if Nan says it’s okay----”

    “I say it’s okay,” Declan said bossily.

    “Okay,” I whispered.

    “Good,” he said, “come on.”

    Before I could stop him, he ran over and grabbed my hand.

    “Your majesty! Please!” Nan called as he ran off with me. “Manners, remember manners!”

    It didn’t really stop him. Like a rag doll, I was dragged through the palace, until we were out near the river that wound through the palace grounds. Lord Oliver Berkshire was the same age as Declan, thirteen. He was a little taller, with dark hair, and golden eyes. He smiled at me.

    “See?” said Declan. “She isn’t a ghost.”

    Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

    “I’m sure I’m not a ghost,” I said.

    To my surprise, Oliver walked forward to me. I found myself poked, and as I did, I saw Declan’s nostrils flare in anger.

    “Of course, you’re not a ghost,” said Oliver, smiling, “you’re too pretty to be a ghost.”

    Declan made a face. “She’s not pretty.”

    Nan stood off to the side, and if she heard this conversation, she said nothing. It wasn’t as if she really could anyway.

    “I think she’s pretty,” said Oliver, “red hair, and green eyes. They’re like emeralds. You know, when you’re older, I’m goin’ to kiss you.”

    I blushed. “I don’t…I don’t want to be kissed.”

    “You just say that because you’re little,” said Oliver, “but that’s what girls are for.”

    Declan scowled. “You won’t do anythin’. She lives in my castle, and she’s my nanny’s granddaughter. You can’t have what’s mine.”

    “Says who?” Oliver demanded.

     “Says your future King,” Declan replied.

    “Right well,” said Oliver, “why don’t we play a game for her?”

    “I don’t want---” I started to say, but Declan scowled at me and I took it as a hint to be quiet.

    “Tag,” said Declan, “we’ll play tag.”

    “Fine,” said Oliver, “but it’s not each other we have to tag. It’s her.”

    I shook my head. “Prince Declan, I don’t think---”

    “You’re playing,” he said, “on the count of three, you’re goin’ to run. If you make me lose, you’ll be sorry. Do you understand?”

    I glanced over at Nan. I should have told her what they were up to, but I remembered her words. Do what the royals tell you. “I….okay.”

    “Not okay. ‘Yes, your majesty’.”

    “Yes, your majesty.”

    “I’ll count,” said Declan.

    “Why do you get to count?” Oliver said.

    “Because, I’m the Prince,” he replied.

    It was his answer for everything.

    “One,” he began, “two, three….”

    On the count of three, I ran. I was small for my age, and the land by where we were near the river was slick. I ran in the direction of the palace, thinking that maybe if I could get there before them it would put an end to the whole thing.

    I could hear them behind me, panting, and gaining speed.

    They were taller, older, and faster, and it was the most unfair game in the world. Which was exactly what they both wanted, I realized. Me, at their mercy, to play with. I was the fox, and they were the hunters.

    I was just about to reach the palace steps when I found myself knocked over on the gravel drive surrounding it. I felt the full force of a boy’s weight on me. “You’re mine,” I heard Declan’s voice whisper into my ear.

    When he got up, he smiled triumphantly at Oliver.

    Oliver offered me a sad, half smile that I never forgot. “I should have been faster.”

    Strange, to think that words uttered in a childhood game would haunt me even years later.

    When I was sixteen, the King was kind enough to put in a good word for me at Declan’s school. He wanted Declan at home to be nearer his siblings after there'd been an incident in Ireland with the Irish Prince dying. So Declan was brought back from where he was studying in England, at Eaton, and was going to Scoil Rigoa Academy, which roughly translated to The Royal Academy.

    Nan was getting older, and planning on retiring once I turned eighteen leaving me as nanny to Declan’s younger siblings. The King wanted me to have a good education, so he had no problem sending me along as well. Until then, I’d been mostly home schooled so that I could help Nan out with the children.

    I remembered move in day. Nan had taken me in her car, with what little things I had, and I was placed in a dorm that I’d be sharing with another girl. Lady Kenna Berkshire, Oliver’s younger sister.

    I’d met Kenna a few times over the years at royal events and things. Tall, and blond, with amber eyes, she was beautiful, and kind.

    When I got there with my stuff, Kenna was already fully moved in and listening to music on the bed. She jumped up when she saw me.

    “Oh my god!” she exclaimed. “You’re here! You’re here!”

    She hugged me tightly.

    I smiled. “I know, I can’t believe it. I thought for sure it wouldn’t happen.”

    “Hi, Nan!” Kenna greeted my grandmother also, wrapping her in a hug.

    “Gracious me, Lady Kenna. Remember, proper manners!” she chided, but she was smiling in spite of it all. “You’re goin’ ta take care of my little lass, aren’t ye?”

    Kenna smiled. “Of course, I will. She’s in good hands.”

    “Good.” Nan gave me a hug. “Then, I’ll see you when you come down for the weekend, right?”

    “Of course, Nan,” I said, “love you!”

    “Love you too.”

            We squeezed each other tightly one more time, and then she waved goodbye as she left. I turned to Kenna.

    “So,” she said, “you’ll finally be free of the palace grip. Think that means you’ll finally give datin’ a try?”

    I rolled my eyes at her. Kenna had tried getting me to date for ages. Specifically, her brother. She was convinced Oliver was the key to my happiness. If I married him, she reasoned, the two of us could be sisters and I’d never have to be a nanny or deal with Declan ever again.

    “I’m not datin’ Oliver,” I said.

    Kenna laughed gleefully. “I never said Oliver! But it’s nice to know where your heads at. I mean, you’re goin’ ta one of the most prestigious schools in Scotland. If you find your boyfriend here, you’ll be set for life.”

    “I don’t need to be set for life,” I said, “I’m goin’ to make my own.”

    “Fi, you’re going to be a palace nanny. Don’t you want somethin’ more?”

    “I like children,” I said, “and I want to do right by my Nan.”

    “But---”

    “It’s okay,” I said, “I don’t need a big life. It’s okay to want a small one.”

    Kenna raised an eyebrow. “I thought every girl wanted to be Cinderella.”

    “Cinderella didn’t know what it was like to live with the Prince.”

    At the mention of Declan, Kenna made a face. “Yes, well, His Royal Arse does have some slightly less charmin’ qualities. But you know---”

    “Kenna, don’t.”

    For years, Kenna had been convinced of two things. I would end up with either her brother or Declan. She knew the whole story about tag and thought that it had set into motion some kind of turf war with the boys.

    “Oh come on! Ya have ta know he’s got feelin’s for you.”

    “All I am to Declan is a nuisance, and the future nanny of his children.”

    “More like future mother of his children.” She snickered. “Look, all I am sayin’ is we have ta at least acknowledge the elephant in the room.”

    “Which is?”

    “Prince Declan looks at you like you’re his kingdom, and he’s goin’ ta make sure your conquered by him and him alone.”

    Her words sent a chill down my spine.

    “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.

    She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Live in Denial, I hear it’s lovely there, anyway.”

    “It is.”

    My things were on my bed now, mostly unpacked.

    “So,” she said, “we’re goin’ ta the welcome party right?”

    “Welcome party?”

    “Declan and Oliver throw one every year. They get to live off campus, the Roasters!”

    “How’d they manage that?” I asked.

“Security,” Kenna explained, “the palace thinks its safer if Declan lives off campus, so he doesn’t interfere with the safety of other students. He’s got a room on campus, but he’s never there. Same for Oliver.”

“I don’t know if I should go,” I said, “Nan told me I shouldn’t bug Declan while he’s here. I’m supposed to do my own thing.”

“Well, you are doin’ your own thing. You’re comin’ with me ta my brothers party.”

I laughed. “Well, when you put it like that….”

The two of us dressed for the evening. It was a Friday night, and we wouldn’t have classes until Monday. The staff had wanted us to have time to adjust before throwing us into school.

Declan was in his last year, considered to be part of Senior 6. I was in Senior 4, which meant I still had a few years before I would be done with school. Kenna and I tool her personal driver to Oliver and Declan’s.

When we got there, the entire place was filled with people. Music pulsed through the apartment. It was more of a townhouse really, with two floors, and had to have been from at least the Regency era. It was filled with modernist furniture though, sleek, silver, leather, and boy.

As we made our way through the house, we heard shouting.

Loud, angry, Gaelic shouting. “Chan eil mi a 'toirt f**k!” I’d heard Declan’s voice enough over the years that I would have known it anywhere.

He was in the living room, looking livid as he was being held back by Oliver. Standing in front of him was a tall guy, maybe about eighteen, wearing a grey shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket. He looked out of place in a posh party like this where almost everyone was wearing designer clothes. Declan was seething at him, a kind of rage I’d never seen on him before.

The guy in front of him had a strong jaw line, a pointed, beak like nose, jet black hair, and jet-black eyes. There was also a tattoo on his neck. The sun and moon. The Guillotine. The group of rebels that haunted all of the royals with the threat of destruction.

The two of them were seething.

“I’ve got a right ta be here,” the stranger said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Declan with casual indifference, “I’m not doin’ anythin’ wrong. Besides, you know that eventually---”

“Shut up!” Declan shouted. “Shut up, Evander Gordon. If you don’t get the hell out yourself, I’ll have my guards throw you out on your arse!”

The whole room was silent.

Evander Gordon, whoever he was, sneered at Declan. “Fine. But you can’t keep me away forever. Eventually, she’ll find out the truth.” He started to walk away.

Kenna and I were still in the entryway by the door, stunned by what had happened. As Evander made his way past, he bumped into me.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed.

“Sorry there, mo leannan,” he apologized, winking at me.

I blushed.

Mo leannan. My lover, sweetheart.

Then, he did something truly strange. He winked at me. Like he knew me.

“What the f*****g hell are ye doin’, Gordon?” this came from Declan.

He stormed across the living room, right to where I was still in the hallway.

Evander laughed. “Relax, your royal highney, I’m just bein’ polite to this lovely girl. No harm in it, is there?”

“You’ll do well to leave what’s mine alone,” Declan thundered.

This caused a collective gasp from the entire room, and me. I could feel everyone staring and I wanted to go invisible. What’s his? Did he mean, because I was servant? Or….

“All this fuss over a little servant girl,” said Evander, “I never would have thought. Prince Highney has a heart. Too bad it won’t do him any good.”

I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder tightly. Declan’s. He had yet to even look at me, he just stood there seething at Evander.

“Get. OUT!” Declan ordered.

            “Alright, alright. I’ll be goin’,” he said. He winked at me again, and as he left, I could hear him singing,     “I’ll be seein’ you, in all the old familiar places, that this heart of mine embraces…”

    When he was gone, the room let out a collective sigh after he slammed the door behind him. Music played again and talking resumed. But there was still a hand gripping my shoulder. Declan’s.

    He looked down at me and glared. “What the hell are ya doin’ here, Help?”

    It was his pretty little nickname for me ever since I’d become a teenager. I worked sometimes at the palace as a maid, particularly if they were short staffed. But only ever on weekends or summers.

    “I invited her,” said Kenna, stepping forward, her eyes blazing, “to my brothers party. Do you have a problem with that, your highness?”

    Declan glanced at her. “Kenna,” he scowled, “you should have asked before you brought her here. There are rules.”

    “Rules,” I said, “Prince Declan of House Alba, you might be the future ruler, but the only person that rules me is me. I wanted to come. I had a right to come. Oliver’s my friend too.”

    From the crowd, Oliver Berkshire made his way through. “Alright, hen! Of course ye are.”

    “Thank you very much,” I said, smirking.

    Declan was still seething as he looked at me. “Come with me. Now.”

    I didn’t want to go. But I could hear Nan’s voice in my head. Do as the royals tell you. I might not have been in the castle, but the castle was our home. We only stayed there as long as the King allowed us to. If I did anything to insult the royal family, we could very easily be out of there and we’d have nowhere to go.

    “Fine,” I said.

    “Fiona---” Kenna objected.

    “It’s fine, Kenna. It’s fine.” It was a total a complete lie. Him treating me like I was still his servant at school was totally wrong. But, I let Declan take my hand and drag me from the bottom floor of the town house to the second to a door with an armed guard standing outside of it.

    Angus Mitchell, who had been Declan’s guard for years.

    When he saw me, he smiled. “Hello, Fi. Settlin’ into school alright?”

    I smiled back. “It’s fine.”

    Angus glanced between the two of us, his face falling as he saw Declan’s darkened expression and my awkward one. “Everythin’ alright?” I knew what it looked like. A member of the palace staff being taken advantage of by the heir to the throne. I had no way of knowing that wasn’t what it was.

    But how did I explain to Angus that it was safer for us both if we let it go?

    “We’re fine, Angus,” said Declan, “if you could please give us some privacy.”

    “Alright,” he said, “I’ll be around, if ye be needin’ anythin’. You too, Miss Fallon.” He smiled at me, and then left.

    When he was gone, Declan opened the door and dragged me inside.

    “Declan, please,” I said, “whatever you’re thinking of doing-----”

    “What are you thinkin’, Fallon?” he demanded. “My father is the one that is financin’ ye tuition to this school for yer future. You might not be working for the palace here, but yer schoolin’ is bein’ funded by it. From now on, you do what I say. You hang out with who I let you hang out with. You go only where I let you, or else I’ll have you and your Nan out on the street. Do you understand? I don’t want you here, and I can make your life hell.”

    “Declan, please. You can’t be serious----”

    “I’m deadly serious,” he said, “and don’t even let me catch you talkin’ with other boys. You’re not goin’ to find your Prince Charmin’ here. You’ve got a future. With me. With the palace. We invested in you, so I own you. Do you understand?”

    My stomach twisted. “But you love my Nan. Why would you do this to her?”

    “It’s not her I’m doin’ it to,” he said, “I’ve lost enough people in my life, Fallon. I won’t lose you too. Especially not when you were always supposed to be mine.”

    “Declan I----”

    “Here.”

    Before I can stop him, he is reaching for a necklace around his neck. All male members of the Royal family wear one. A silver, round wax seal necklace with the Scottish thistle on it. He goes behind me, standing so close I can feel his breath, and clasps the necklace around my neck.

    “I don’t understand,” I said, “I can’t date you, Declan. I’m not…I mean…”

    When Declan steps around after putting the necklace on me, he says, “This isn’t about dating. This is about letting the rabble know that your mine. You’re a walkin’ target as long as you are here, Fallon. They’ll use you to get to me. As long as they think yer with me, they won’t dare try. You don’t have to be with me. You just have to give the illusion that you are.”

    “But what if someone finds out---”

    “They won’t,” he said sharply, “it’s only at school, and it’s only for your protection. Word got around fast who ye were, and all of the vultures are comin’ out. They don’t just want to scavenge your corpse, either. They want ta eat you alive.”

    “How do you know?” I said.

    He reached out, and held my chin in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “What do you think a scholarship kid like Evander Gordon  sportin’ a Guillotine tattoo was doin’ flirtin’ with ya?”

    “But I’m no one,” I said, “I’m a servant girl. The Guillotine wouldn’t get anywhere by messing with me. It would be meaningless.”

    “You’re under palace care,” he said, “if somethin’ happens to the servant girl while she’s at school, trainin’ to be a royal nanny, whose heads do you think they’ll come for?”

    My stomach squirmed.

    The Guillotine had killed my parents. They’d killed the Princess of Ireland. They were not to be trusted.

    “Are there really that many of them here?” I said. “I thought they were only in Coleum.”

    “They’re everywhere,” he said, “and they want to destroy people like me, and people like you. Father didn’t think about that when he sent you here. But father’s not good at thinkin’  much these days. Promise me, you won’t talk to Evander Gordon. Promise me right now.”

    “I….I promise,” I said.

    “Good.”

    He reached out and mused my red hair a little. “It’s only one year,” he promised, “come on, let’s go out, and enjoy the party.”

    “Alright…”

    I was doubtful, and the necklace on me felt like I’d agreed to something without even really knowing what it was. We went back down to the party, and I could feel all eyes on me. When Kenna saw me, her eyes went from my messy hair, to the thistle necklace placed around my neck.

    She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away from Declan.

    “What happened?”

    I shook my head. “I don’t….I don’t know. But I think we should go.”

    Kenna scowled, but a quick glance at Declan, who was now smirking, made her decide that was probably the right thing. We went back to the dorm.

    “What happened?” Kenna demanded.

    I frowned. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

    “What do you mean you don’t know?” Kenna asked. “Do you realize that you’re wearing Prince Declan’s royal seal?”

    I fiddled with the thistle charm. “I do.”

    “He said you were his,” said Kenna, “he told Evander Gordon you were his.”

    “He told me that he had to make people think that I was his,” I said, “because there’d been threats. Because Evander Gordon was one of those threats.”

    “But you’re not together?”

    “No,” I said, “we’re not together. But apparently, I’m not supposed to date anyone.”

    “What?” Kenna said.

    “I don’t know,” I said.

    “Did he say that specifically?”

    “He said that I wasn’t supposed to talk with other boys.”

    “Oh, that’s serious.”

    “I don’t know what to do,” I said, “Nan always says that I’m supposed to do what the royals want me to.”

    “What did Declan say would happen if you didn’t?”

    “He’d get rid of Nan.”

    “Oh, that arse!”

    “Kenna….I don’t think I have a choice.”

    “You could always tell the King.”

    “I think that would make things worse.”

    “What are you going to?”

    I fiddled with the necklace. “I don’t…I don’t know. I think I have to do as Nan says.”