AllFreeNovel
Share Us
While no life-threatening injuries were reported, speculation about the seriousness of the incident was fuelled by the alleged evacuation of the royal family to Windsor Castle shortly after the shooting took place, leading many to fear that foul play was involved. A Twitter post from Venetia, Duchess of York, however, suggests that the move was made to be closer to the hospital where Evangeline was taken.
@duchessvofyork What a frightening day! An unexpected detour to Windsor Castle now…there’s nothing more important than being with your family on Christmas. Hug your loved ones tight.
12:23 p.m. · 24 December 2023
Bright, who is not an official member of the royal family, was airlifted yesterday morning to an undisclosed hospital for emergency treatment. Though there have been no further updates on the alleged victim’s condition or location, the royal standard has not been raised at Windsor Castle, Sandringham House, or any other royal residence, suggesting that His Majesty is spending Christmas in hospital with his illegitimate daughter.
The identity of the shooter has not been released.
—The Daily Sun, 25 December 2023
THE NEXT MORNING, WHILE MOST families are opening presents and drinking hot cocoa, mine is escorted back to Windsor Castle by more than a half dozen police vehicles, complete with sirens, flashing lights, and a motorcycle leading the way.
Even with the gunman still on the loose, it’s overkill, but I’m too exhausted to make any kind of snarky remark. I’m stretched out across the middle bench seat in a bulletproof SUV, my head in my mom’s lap and a blanket covering the rest of me, while Kit and Alexander sit in the row behind us. The three of them speak in hushed voices, and even though I drift in and out of consciousness, I catch snatches of their conversation.
“…didn’t match the striations of any rifle in the Sandringham armory,” says Alexander, and I can practically hear his frown.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” says my mother, her fingers gently combing through the tangles in my hair. “That no one on the estate was responsible, I mean.”
“All it means is that they didn’t use one of our hunting rifles,” says Alexander grimly. “The police are doing their best, but the estate is twenty thousand acres, and much of it is open to the public. Even if they do find evidence…”
We hit a bump in the road, and though the doctors gave me a nerve block before our trip, rendering most of my upper-left side numb and useless, I still wince. But I only have myself to blame for this whole setup, as I refused point-blank to get in an ambulance, and this was the only alternative Alexander would accept.
I must dip into sleep again, because the next thing I hear is Kit’s voice. “…said you banned the family from attending the service at St. George’s Chapel this morning?”
“I doubt she’s terribly upset,” says Alexander dryly. “But yes, with the service at Windsor open to the general public, it was too much of a security risk. Maisie knows that the safety of the family is paramount, and I’m sure God will forgive us, considering the…”
Alexander trails off, and Kit swears quietly under his breath. I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but then I hear it.
Shouts—dozens of them all at once, a wall of voices that grow louder as the car creeps forward. I remember the protesters outside Sandringham, and a chill runs through my aching body, but the people with scarves covering their faces were silent. This crowd—
This crowd is calling my name.
“How do they know it was her?” says my mom, horrified.
“Who?” I say, my throat painfully dry. “What’s going on?”
I try to sit up, but her hand is there, gently holding me down. “Photographers and journalists at the gate,” she explains. “There must be nearly a hundred of them. Alex—”
“I don’t know,” he says in a strangled voice. “I told Doyle to release a statement calling it a hunting accident. Jenkins confirmed just an hour ago—”
“There’s an article on the Daily Sun’s site,” says Kit suddenly. “A ‘well-placed palace insider’ told them Evan was shot.”
A few long seconds pass, and I assume Alexander’s reading whatever post Kit has found. “Damn,” mutters my father, followed by a few more colorful snarls. “That gold-digging, bloodsucking—”
“Venetia?” says Kit, and Alexander grunts in the affirmative.
“We knew she’d go to the press eventually,” says my mother with a sigh. “I was hoping she would at least wait until Evan was out of the hospital, though.”
The vehicle is moving at a snail’s pace, and on the other side of the tinted windows, I can just make out several police officers guiding us through what must be a tightly packed crowd. My name is louder now, interspersed with what sound like questions, but I can’t tell what any of them are saying. And I’m not sure I want to know.
At last, we must make it through the gate, because the shouting grows quieter as the SUV speeds up again, and I can feel my mother relax. She shouldn’t be here—not at Windsor, not in the middle of everything. But I also know that nothing, not even Alexander, could send her away now. And I’m terrified.
“Security has locked down this part of the castle,” says Alexander unprompted. “Though if you must go outside, do be certain to stick to the immediate grounds.”
“I don’t think any of us needs fresh air that badly,” says Kit as the car pulls to a stop. Only then does my mother help me sit up, and I see the dozen staff members waiting for us at the door—including a man with a salt-and-pepper beard who wears a frown so deep that it’s practically sliding off his face.
“Jenkins?” I gasp, wondering if I’m imagining things. But as a footman opens the door, he’s there, his arms around me as he eases me gently onto the drive. And even though everyone’s watching, I hug him in return and bury my face in his chest, finally letting myself feel the overwhelming grip of fear—of all that happened, of all that could’ve happened, and how close I came to losing everything.
