“Then what’s the point?”
“The point is keeping you out of prison when this is over—and perhaps your guardian as well.”
She sat forward abruptly with a frown. “You mentioned that earlier without an explanation. What exactly are you getting at?”
“I am inclined to think you have been duped, that the Bruslans’ advisers are now more intelligent than in the past to think of something like this.”
“Duped how?”
“Your guardian has been bought, or coerced, perhaps by threatening your life. He could have been fed this entire tale to use, including the name Leonard Kastner, who is well-known as a suspect in this case, as well as Rastibon, the most notorious assassin of the day. I do believe he’s Lubinian, perhaps one of the disgraced nobles who decided to begin anew elsewhere rather than stay here in shame—which would fit what he told you when you were young. He could have kept in touch with old friends here, so the Bruslans could have found out about him and that he has a niece the right age. Think about it, Alana. Everything you have told me he told you, and only recently. And if he truly thought they would kill you if he couldn’t convince you of this tale, he would have used anything to embellish it, including that he used to be an assassin.”
She took a few moments to assimilate that, but it just didn’t add up. “If the Bruslans arranged that, then why the rebels, too?” she questioned. “Or are you saying the two plots are unrelated?”
“They are one and the same. Their propaganda has merely set the stage for your crowning performance.”
“But war?”
“If they can wrest the crown back, they won’t want total destruction. The more people who die, the less people they have to rule. This foment isn’t about war, Alana, it’s about making the people discontent with the present regime, so they’ll be ready to accept a Bruslan on the throne again. You were their final card to play. If you had succeeded, if Frederick actually presented you as his daughter, he would have been denounced for trying to trick the populace with a fake princess. This would have two possible results, an immediate riot that could end in his death, or the demand that he step down from the throne. That was the whole point of this, and you even said it yourself. ‘Use me to prevent war.’ Weren’t those your exact words?”
She was amazed by his theory. It actually sounded plausible, except that Poppie wouldn’t have gone along with something like that. He would have told her the truth and gotten her out of harm’s way, even if it meant leaving England to go into hiding somewhere else. He certainly wouldn’t have subjected her to the complete disbelief she’d been faced with, all based on a lie.
“I can see why you’d prefer this version over mine,” she said thoughtfully. “You’ve compromised your king’s daughter. You’ll be facing his wrath for that when I am finally reunited with him.”
“If that were true, then I would be forced to humbly beg your forgiveness.”
He was scowling just at the thought. Why, when he in no way believed that would ever happen?
“Do you even know how to be humble?” she asked curiously, then quickly assured him, “Not that I would forgive you, even if you managed some humbleness.”
His scowl got darker. “If you were the princess, then my family would once again be in disgrace because of me, and I would banish myself forever from Lubinia for so failing in my duty. Fortunately for my family, that isn’t going to happen.”
That absolute conviction that she found so exasperating was again in his voice. “I should agree with you and be done with this,” she groused. “But there is one little discrepancy between your theory and actual events which can prove that Poppie did tell the truth. I wasn’t going to mention it since he wasn’t sure it even reached my father. If it didn’t, you would claim that it’s a lie, which would have made you dismiss everything else I’ve said, too. But since that’s already the case, and I really can’t think of anything else to convince you, you might as well hear this now just in case it did reach my father.”
“Enough! Just tell me!”
Oh, my, Alana thought, he was definitely angry now. Just because she didn’t jump gratefully at his concession that she might be “innocent”? Or because she’d said she wouldn’t forgive him? She hadn’t realized how important it was to him for her not to be the princess at this point because of the way he’d treated her. Could that really lead to his disgrace? She ought to hope so, but the thought didn’t actually sit well with her.
“Alana,” he said ominously.
“All right! But I warned you this may lead to nothing. Several months after I was taken from the palace, Poppie was moved by compassion to send my father a message. He assured him that he would keep me safe until Frederick found out who wanted me dead. No one else would have known about that missive. If it did actually reach my father, it proves Poppie is who he said he is, and I am who he said I am.”
The anger left Christoph’s visage. She wasn’t sure why, until he said, “You should have mentioned this sooner.”
“You know about it?”
“No, but I soon will.”
He left the room abruptly. With no doubt where he was going, she started to feel sick to her stomach with apprehension. If that missive did reach the king all those years ago, Frederick would be returning with Christoph. She would finally be meeting her father. . . .
Chapter Thirty
ALANA SAT AT THAT table in Christoph’s parlor too nervous to eat another bite of food, too nervous to even move. She almost hoped Christoph would come back and tell her, “Aha, another lie!”
That must have been his own thought when he left because he hadn’t appeared the least bit worried that his job might suddenly be in jeopardy. He’d probably been exaggerating anyway that it could be.
“Would you like a bath, lady?”
Boris had to ask that twice for her to finally notice him standing there. “No, I—yes, actually.”
