Twisted-Games

RHYS
“…REPORTS THE KING IS IN STABLE CONDITION AFTER HIS HEART ATTACK FOUR
days ago. The palace asks the public to please respect the royal family’s
privacy at this difficult time, while well-wishers have left thousands of cards
and flowers outside the palace…”
The news anchor’s voice droned from the TV in the corner as I stared
down at the guard in front of me.
“Let me be clear,” I said, my calm voice belying the fury churning inside
me. “I’m going to see Princess Bridget today, one way or another. Don’t
make this the hard way.”
The guard drew himself up to his full height, which was still a good six
inches shorter than me. “Are you threatening me?”
I smiled, and he gulped. “Yes.”
“Now you listen. I’m a Royal Guard—”
“I don’t. Give. A. Shit.” I enunciated slowly and carefully in case he was
too dumb to notice I was this close to shoving a syringe in his throat if he
didn’t get out of my way.
We stood outside the king’s private wing of the hospital. It’d been four
days since the allegations about Bridget’s and my relationship broke and the
king suffered a heart attack.
Four days of not seeing her, talking to her, or knowing whether she was
okay.
Four days of fucking hell.
The palace had terminated my contract the same day the allegations came
out, citing concerns over my ability to do my job due to my “increased media
profile.”