Chapter 35 Sisters
“Ms Thorne?”
Mira called Isabella’s attention to the book she was reading.
“You have a visitor?”
Isabella wondered who as she closed the book. “Why not send them in?”
Very few people visited her. Actually, since she returned, she'd had no visitor save for Elias and occasionally Lucien.
Mira hesitated. “Uh, are you sure?”
Isabella raised a brow in confusion. “Who is at the door, Mira?” Her voice was calm.
“Y…your…sister.” Mira stuttered.
“Sister?” Isabella’s laugh was piercing. “I don't have a sister, Mira. You know that.”
“Ms Thorne?” Mira pleaded. “She says it's urgent and she needs to see you.”
“I don't know who it is you're talking about, Mira. I do not have a sister.”
Mira sighed exasperatedly. “Very well then, I'll tell her that you do not want to see her.”
She turned and headed to the door, just as the door opened.
“There will be no need for that,” Victoria said as she stepped into the room.
“What?” She shrugged as the other two ladies stared at her in surprise. “I heard everything and the door isn't soundproof.”
“Don't worry about her, Mira. You can go.”
Concern etched in Mira's eyes as she glanced at both women. “Um, are you sure? I…I could call Marcus and…”
Isabella waved her hands. “It's fine.” She muttered.
“Uh…you could make yourself useful and get me a drink.” Victoria's voice stopped Mira in her tracks.
“Yes ma'am.” She nodded respectfully as she walked out of the room.
“Still as saucy as ever, huh?” Isabella fired just as the door closed.
Victoria shrugged. “I can't help it.” She looked around the chambers. “Are you gonna offer me a seat or are we gonna stand?”
“What are you doing here?” Isabella asked pointedly, ignoring her.
“A seat?” Victoria pressed.
“Fine.” She said resignedly as they moved to the sofa. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” An immaculate smile was immediately plastered on Victoria's face. “How kind of you.”
Isabella ignored the sarcasm dripping from her words. “Now, what are you doing here?”
“To see my lovely sister, of course!” Victoria laughed. “Can you believe it, Isabella Thorne is the mate to the King.” She laughed as she spoke to herself.
Isabella could feel her patience wearing thin.
“Why isn't the drink here yet?” Victoria glanced at the door, looking furtively.
“What do you want, Vee?” Isabella’s voice was softer as she studied her ‘sister’.
“I'm sorry,” Victoria muttered, her facade gone. “I shouldn't have done it, but I did and so I'm sorry.”
Months and months of hardcore training were the one thing that stopped Isabella from expressing her surprise.
Victoria Thorne was freaking apologising to her. This was what? The eight wonders of the world.
Victoria stood up and paced, her eyes glancing furtively at the door.
“Are you good?”
“No.” Victoria's voice broke. “I need your help…” She stopped as the door opened and Mira stepped in.
“It's okay, you can speak. I trust her.” Isabella urged her. This was the first time she had seen Victoria in such a broken state.
Victoria shook her head. “It's okay, I can wait till she goes.” She scoffed. “Imagine your problems being heard by a lowly servant?” The broken voice had gone, replaced by the mean Victoria.
She downed the drink the moment it was poured into her cup. “You don't have something stronger? Say scotch, maybe?”
Isabella was genuinely amused. The Victoria she knew was the princess's sassy Victoria who'd never touched alcohol in her whole life.
“That'll be all, Mira. You can go.” Isabella waved her attendant away as she focused on her ‘sister’.
“I never should have married him, you know.” Victoria began, her eyes on the floor.
Isabella’s arms were folded as she glanced at Victoria.
“I wish I hadn't taken him from you. He would have been all yours.”
“You can't possibly have come all the way here, just to tell me about your regrets, can you?”
Victoria sighed. “You're right.” She glanced at her sister. “I'm sorry, Isabella.”
Isabella nodded. “It's okay, it's all in the past.”
Victoria shook her head. “No, it's not.”
“What?”
“It's not in the past, Isabella. Damien is coming for you.”
Isabella scoffed. “He can't.” She looked away. “What does he want from me, anyway?”
“I don't know. I really don't know.” She shrugged. “The baby. We have a girl.” She said dryly.
“That's amazing. You don't look happy.” She observed.
“She's moonlit.”
Isabella spun. “How?”
Victoria shrugged. “I also don't know. One thing I'm sure of, was his dislike for me grew after she came. And now, he has only one purpose.”
Isabella had an inkling of where this was headed. “What?” Her voice was careful, measured.
“The throne. Damien is coming for the throne, Isabella.”
Victoria's voice shook as she drew herself closer to Isabella.
“And you know this, how?” Her defence rose. She was immediately suspicious.
“Why am I seated here with you, talking about intimate things as though we are besties?” She stood up, putting enough distance between herself and Victoria.
Victoria sighed. “You have every right to feel angry. But I'm telling the truth. It's not going to turn out well for any of us.”
Isabella bit her lips, drawing blood. “You should leave.”
“Isabella?” Victoria looked up in shock. She hadn't expected any bit of it.
“Leave. Go back to your husband and your child. I can take care of my home.” Her voice was icy.
“You don't have to do this.” Victoria's voice shook. She was close to tears now.
“Leave,” Isabella said again, pointing at the door. “Leave before I call the guards and they drag your ass out of here.”
“There will be no need to do that.” Victoria's smile was bitter as she raised her hand in defence, standing up.
“He has Lord Harlan you know,” She was at the door, her hand holding the knob.
Isabella could feel the cracks breaking.
“He has Dad in his hands. Why do you think Blackburn died?”
Isabella closed her eyes. “He was guilty?” The answer was as foolish as it sounded.
“Damien is going to take over the kingdom. But that's not all he's going to do.” She paused. “You're his ultimate prize, Isabella. The one he'd always wanted.”
Isabella shivered. She knew Victoria was telling the truth.
“And after the kingdom is in his hands, you'll be his trophy wife. The one he'll show off to. I wonder how that will make you feel.”
“You don't know that,” Isabella muttered, her breath heavy.
“I don't, I admit.” Victoria sniffed. “But I know you're gonna hate yourself when thousands die in the war Damien is planning, knowing that you could have averted all these.”
She turned the knob and stepped out. “I'll be in town, waiting for your response, Isabella. I hope it's not too late.”
“Wait.” Isabella wanted to murmur but the words didn't come out.
She glanced at the shut door, Victoria's words playing in her ears. Instead, she staggered to the wall closest to her and slid down, her legs weakening, as the tears fell.
A soft knock sounded on the door as it opened.
“Forgot something?” She muttered, not bothering to glance at the door.
“You had a visitor?” Instead, Lucien's voice drifted to her ears.
She nodded, still too weak to engage in small talk.
“I wanted you to be the first to hear,” Lucien muttered as he walked to where she crouched. “But it seems I'm already late.”
“What?” Isabella was confused. “What are you on about?”
It was Lucien's turn to be confused. “Haven't you heard?”
“Heard what?”
Lucien shook his head in disbelief. “If you haven't heard, then why are you curled up?” His voice became gentler.
“I'll go first. His burial will be held next week.”
Isabella clutched her chest. She could feel her heart threatening to burst out.
“I'm sorry.” He muttered.
Isabella nodded, stifling the cry in her throat.
“Victoria was here. Victoria Thorne. My sister.” She spoke when she saw the confusion on Lucien's face.
“Lord Harlan is being controlled by someone. And that someone is her husband, Damien.”
Lucien opened his mouth to speak but a knock interrupted him.
Marcus poked his head inside. “Sorry, for the rude interruption your Majesty, but this just came for you.”
Lucien waved him inside. It was a carton, slightly huge. “What's that?”
Marcus shrugged. “It hasn't been open, Your Majesty.”
“Open it then,” he ordered, angry that he was being disturbed.
“It's a brick,” Marcus said in surprise.
“A brick?” Lucien and Isabella chorused.
“Yes, and a…note.”
“Let me have that.” Lucien snatched the paper and unfolded it.
“Inside the parcel is a brick. It weighs 9kg. You know what else weighs 9kg?
A human head.
For every day you refuse to vacate the throne, I'll send you a parcel. Inside, it may be a brick or a head. Your choice, you choose. Your lovely lady already knows who I am, no need to wonder
Sincerely,
Your Usurper.