“Everleigh.”
“The castle. Tuesday. Fire. West wing.” The voice is mechanical, robotic and I don’t know whether it’s live or a recording, but it has been concealed.
Tuesday would see Blair being back home. It was her mother’s birthday and the plan was a quiet meal with her father and his brothers, recognising that this was probably the last family birthday he would see.
Perfect timing for someone who wanted to cause distress. Damage.
Harm.
I don’t think about who it could be or why they’ve let me know, because that isn’t necessary right now. I call Micky, who answers straightaway, his blunt manner carried by the phone lines.
“What’s the problem, Isaac?”
Because there’s always a problem when I call him. Chats don’t happen.
I tell him about the phone call. He listens. Says nothing.
“I know you won’t let anything happen to her. Or the rest of them.” I have to fill the silence he leaves, it’s too empty.
“Never have. Never will. But why are they telling you? Who knows you’re involved with her?”
There’s emphasis on the word involved.
“Ben. You. People close to her. Elise.” I assume Elise.
“Why you, Isaac? Or is this something you’re instigating to wrestle some power back for your country?”
I don’t respond. I know Micky too well by now. There’s no use arguing or explaining because this is how he works things out. Computing.
“I’ll let you know if anyone else calls.”
“You do that.”
He hangs up.
Blair
“You do that.”
The words are a slap.
The material of the chair arms is soft enough to take the pressure of my grip and the dig of my nails. I have no idea how old it is or what the cost of reupholstery was and nor do I care.
“Isaac isn’t behind this.”
Micky looks at me and his eyes dance. “I fucking know he’s not, pet, but it won’t hurt for him to think I don’t like him.”
“You need to get out at some point. Find someone to fuck.”
“Those words will never sound ladylike from your lips, Blair.” He taps his desk with a fountain pen. “Tuesday’s a problem though. I don’t doubt that the information Isaac got is correct.”
“Who do you think’s behind it?” Isaac had mentioned Elise.
I close my eyes and wish I could click my heels and end up in Oz, where my life was only threatened by a wicked witch. There was a rumour I wouldn’t stay as queen; a truth universally acknowledged that this was not the life I would opt for, if I had the chance. A list of people who wanted to dance with the power a tarnished crown could give were queuing up and they weren’t patiently waiting for their turn.
“Take your pick.” He lounges back in his chair.
I’m sitting in Ben’s, at his desk that Micky’s left untouched. I know Micky will have been through everything, looking for hints as to where Ben might be, or who he’s with.
