Guarding His Queen

Chapter 3

"God, I should've been in that carriage with you," Edmund murmured for the thousandth time when I arrived back at the palace. He was pacing across the Great Hall, his slick black shoes the only sound now.

Guards were swarming everywhere around the palace and ground, but it still didn't feel real. I was still wearing my red dress and my primary focus at the moment was calming down Edmund. In a way, saying soothing words to him was mellowing me out as well. It was as if I could hear my own words and imagine that someone who loved me very much was saying them to me.

"You couldn't have done anything inside or outside the carriage that would've helped me," I reasoned.

"But you went through all of that alone," he countered.

Just like I had faced my father's death. Just like I had comforted Cecelia. Just like I had walked down the aisle at my coronation. What was a few stray bullets after all that?

"Things could have been much worse if you were in the carriage. It's such a small space, with two bodies in there the bullets would have had more chance to hit their targets."

"Oh Zara, how could I have been such a fool?! You never should've been alone on your special day. Damn the media, I should've been with you."

Our conversation continued on like this until a royal guard arrived, her head down and her eyes already apologetic. I perked up immediately, sitting up straighter in the throne.

"You have news," I stated, watching her near.

"Yes, my Queen," she replied with a quick curtsy.

"Well, get on with it," I pushed, getting out of my chair and rising to my feet.

She kept her eyes down and I noticed that there was a slight tremor in her hands. I never doubted that I had wonderful guards, now I could see how much they cared for me. But I could also see that they had never dealt with anything on this kind of a scale. For the entirety of my life I had almost assumed the guards were more for show than purpose. They were a silent threat, a bluff that had now been called.

"The man who fired his weapon at your carriage was captured almost a kilometer from the scene. He was subdued and the weapon was taken from him. It has since been examined at it is confirmed to be the type of gun that could fire the bullet which struck your carriage."

"Yes, yes, all that is good and well, but what about the man? Who is he? What does he want? Where is he now?" I rambled, then tried to contain myself. I could not let my anxiety get the best of me.

"Well, he was being held, then our guards arrived on the scene and he was fatally shot."

"Shot," I repeated, my voice echoing in the large room.

And with that, I crumpled back into my chair. Still, even with my gaze distant and my mind racing my back was perfectly straight and my feet were planted on the floor in my heels. I clasped my hands in my lap and clenched my jaw, but resisted the urge to bite my lip and damage my beautiful lipstick. I know that I should've been delighted and relieved that the man who tried to harm me was no longer a threat. He had wanted to kill me and now he was dead. Serves him right.

But something didn't sit well with me.

"You make it sound like someone other than our guards captured him initially," I pointed out after a moment of thick silence.

"Well, yes," my guard agreed.

"And? Who was it? A commoner? A tourist?"

"I suppose he would technically be a tourist. He's a Canadian. He claims that he works for CSIS."

"The Canadian Security Intelligence Service?" I asked, almost dumbly.

"Yes, your Majesty."

Very suddenly my dress was too tight and I could taste blood in my mouth. I stood back up, this time on trembling legs. But when I smiled, I knew it was soft and neutral nonetheless. That was an art I had mastered long ago.

"I would love to meet this mysterious Canadian that saved my life. It seems that I have a lot to thank him for, but I would appreciate if you could do some research on him, see what you can find out in the next hour. I am going to straighten a few things out. I don't want to be like this when I meet our esteemed guest. Meet me in my bedroom after your hour is up to brief me on what I will be dealing with."

With that I straightened my dress and strode out of the great hall. No one approached me when I strode off to my bedroom.

And once the door was shut, I was faced with the reality that I had almost died today and if it hadn't been for some Canadian on vacation my coronation would've quickly been followed up by a funeral.