Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 295: The Search for Glenda

Chapter 294: The Search for Glenda

Lyria’s POV

I wondered why the King would need secret guards.

The royal guards were numerous and loyal. They followed him everywhere, stood at every door, and carried out his orders without question. There was even a faction within the royal guards that helped carry out the more hideous tasks the King assigned them. I knew of them. I had seen them in the shadows, moving with purpose, their faces blank and their eyes empty.

But what Bridget spoke of was different.

This was a guard the King kept hidden, a shadow within the shadows.

A secret guard.

But why?

The royal guards already helped cover most of what was done in the palace. They burned bodies. They silenced those who spoke out. They ensured that the King’s secrets remained buried. So why did he need a secret guard?

My thoughts spiralled, tangling and knotting themselves together. This was more than the King simply being a psychopath. I was very certain of that.

But then what could it be?

What was so important that he needed someone that perhaps even his own guards did not know of?

Elara’s voice broke through my thoughts, soft and gentle.

"Your Highness," she said, "what is the matter?"

I looked at her, my brow furrowed.

"It is s-strange," I said. "The King has n-numerous guards with him at all t-times. The royal guards a-always follow him. And there is a-also a faction within the royal guards t-that helps carry out the h-hideous tasks he assigns them. I k-know them. I have s-seen them."

I paused, gathering my thoughts.

"But what B-Bridget speaks of... it is l-like the King has a different g-guard. A special one. B-but then w-why? The royal guards a-already help cover most of w-what is done in the palace. So w-why does he need a s-secret guard?"

Debbie spoke up, her voice thoughtful.

"Perhaps it is so that he does not get assassinated," she said.

Pippa shook her head.

"He has the royal guards for that, though," she said. "They are more than enough to protect him. No one would dare attempt to assassinate the King with so many guards around him."

Margery stepped forward, her expression contemplative.

"Perhaps it is to ensure that his dirty deeds remain covered," she said. "Or perhaps this guard carries out the dirty deeds for him."

She paused, choosing her words carefully.

"Sometimes nobles have people who help them carry out tasks that they themselves cannot perform. They require someone else in the shadows to do it for them. Perhaps that is who this man is. He is the King’s shadow."

I was quiet for a moment, turning her words over in my mind.

Then I nodded.

Perhaps that was it.

It made sense.

But then that only meant that this secret guard possessed more information. And perhaps I could discover something that would help me bring down the King and finally take my revenge on him for what he had done to Patricia.

I turned to Bridget.

"Can you f-find out who he is?" I asked. "Who this s-secret guard is?"

Bridget nodded, her expression determined.

"I will try my best, Your Highness," she said.

I hoped she could find out who he was. And from there, I would seek a way to bring him down.

I turned to Elara.

"Can I-i use P-Phineas and B-Brayden too?" I asked.

Elara frowned slightly.

"Your Highness," she said, "Brayden and Phineas are yours to command. They told you so themselves."

I nodded slowly, then turned to Pippa.

"C-call them i-in, p-please."

Pippa bowed and turned toward the door. Within moments, Brayden and Phineas stood before me, their postures straight and their expressions attentive.

They bowed.

"Your Highness," they said in unison.

I looked at them.

"I need your h-help," I said. "You told m-me that I could use y-you. That I could t-trust you."

They both nodded.

"Yes, Your Highness," Brayden said.

I drew a breath.

"I need you to f-find someone," I said. "Her name is G-Glenda."

Elara frowned.

"Glenda?" she repeated. "Is she a maid?"

I turned to her immediately.

Glenda had been dressed as a maid, but I could not place why. She simply did not feel like a maid.

But perhaps I was wrong.

"D-do you k-know of her?" I asked.

Elara shook her head.

"I am sorry, Your Highness. I do not. But I could make inquiries and attempt to gather more information."

"I w-would a-appreciate that, though I d-doubt she i-is," I said. "And that is w-why I am telling all of y-you. I do not k-know her family name. I do not k-know where she works. I only k-know that she helped me once, and she said she w-would find me again. But she h-has not."

The maids and guards exchanged looks.

"Your Highness," Phineas said carefully, "can you describe her?"

I nodded eagerly.

"She wore a m-maid’s uniform. She had... a face. She was p-plain-looking and..."

I paused.

I had not realised I was this poor at describing people.

The maids and guards exchanged another look.

"Your Highness," Debbie said carefully, "that does not help very much."

I sighed.

I knew it did not.

I paused, trying to think of how to explain exactly what Glenda looked like.

Then my eyes lit up as an idea came to me.

I rushed to the hidden floorboard, my fingers finding the familiar edge and prying it open. The maids watched me, their eyes wide and their expressions curious.

I hesitated for only a moment.

I hoped I was not making a mistake by revealing this place.

They had told me to trust them, and I had to admit that I was beginning to do so.

But there was still a part of me that remained hesitant about trusting them completely.

There was no need to worry, though.

If anything went missing, if anything was taken, then I would know not to trust them.

I reached into the compartment and pulled out the coloured pencils Lucian had given me. The leather wrapping was soft and worn from use.

I closed the floorboard and returned to the desk, settling into the chair.

I opened the case and selected a pencil.

Then I picked up another and began to draw.

I worked carefully, my hand moving across the page with slow, deliberate strokes. I tried to portray every detail of Glenda’s face—the curve of her cheeks, the shape of her eyes, the line of her mouth.

I used the coloured pencils to recreate the colour of her skin, her eyes, and her hair.

Hours passed.

I did not notice the time slipping away.

I was lost in the drawing, my mind focused entirely on the face I was trying to recreate.

When I was finally done, I breathed a sigh of relief.

And it was only then that I realised my maids and guards had all gathered around me.

They were very quiet.

And their eyes were wide.