Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

A Royal Waste of Time

‘Name, Sir?’

Now here was a rare specimen - someone who dared to step in my way. I regarded the royal guard before me and wondered if he knew he wasn’t going to keep his post for long.

Karim, ever the efficient employee, spoke a few curt words to the man and, for the first time, he took a good look at my face. His visage under the ridiculous pelt hat paled. Ah. Recognition. Too late.

Quickly, the unfortunate guard took a step back. Wise decision.

‘Mr Ambrose, Sir. So you could come after all.’ He gave a salute, more snappy than a thousand snapped fingers. ‘We are honoured, Sir.’

‘Yes, you are.’ I strode past the guard without giving him a glance. Right now, I had more important things on my mind. Like the opportunity this ridiculous ceremony afforded me to advance the New Zealand project. There was no time to lose. Sliding out of my coat, I thrust it at the nearest walking hallstand in butler uniform. ‘Let’s get this over with. Where is the Queen?’

‘Um…Her Majesty is preparing herself, I believe, Sir.’

‘What does she need to prepare herself for? She’s had three months of engagement time for that.’

The butler cleared his throat delicately. ‘I couldn’t say, Sir.’

My patience, already strictly rationed for the last few years, was rapidly running out. ‘Well, where is this whole thing going to happen?’

‘In the Chapel Royal, Sir, but - Wait! Wait, Sir! You can’t go in there yet!’

I can’t, can I?

Behind me, I heard her snicker at the poor butler. She knew me well.

Too damn well.

Quickly, I banished that thought from my mind. Without paying any attention to the lackey’s protests, I marched into the palace.

The place was predictably pretentious. Colour and glitter everywhere. Portraits of self-important people on the walls. I didn’t give them a glance. I had a purpose here.

Hurried footsteps sounded behind me, catching up. ‘Where are we going?’

Ah. She apparently had a purpose, too. Distracting me.

‘The Chapel Royal, Mr Linton.’

‘Um…are we allowed to simply go in there?’

‘I don’t believe so, no.’

‘But you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?’

She knew me well indeed. For some reason, it didn’t irk me as much as it probably should have. Why would I not object to someone seeing through me this easily? Why didn’t it make me feel suspicious and distrustful? I had always reserved a healthy portion of distrust for everybody.

‘Yes,’ I told her briskly.

I didn’t glance at her, keeping my eyes straight ahead. The corridor in front of me, the paintings, the sparkling chandelier, those were all just slight distractions, easy to ignore. But her in that dress…

I squashed that thought before it could fully form and hastened my steps. We were heading down a long corridor now. At the end of it, a set of double doors awaited us. Pushing them open, I strode inside and surveyed the Chapel Royal - the place where, since time immemorial, the kings and queens of England had married, if they didn’t want to bother with Westminster Abbey.

For a moment, I stood still, gazing up at the high, arched windows and dark, wood-panelled walls - then I shook myself. Why would I care where some self-important royal tied the knot?

Get a grip, or this deal might slip through your fingers!

‘Ah. Welcome, welcome!’ My head snapped around, and I saw some cleric in robes coming towards us. I didn’t keep track of the clergy, focusing more on keeping them at arm’s length. They had the annoying habit of asking for alms for the poor. ‘Come in, Sir, Miss. What a joyous occasion! Such a happy day deserves to be celebrated, does it not?’