by Geneva Lee
“Why reveal this to me now?” What did any of this have to do with Jacobson or Clara? “What does this have to do with my situation?”
“I’ve tried to guide you. They know that. But I can’t continue this position. You resist most counsel.” Henry cleared his throat. “I find it troubling given…”
That wasn’t true. I didn’t know Henry well enough to trust him. I knew now that I never would.
“This has been enlightening, gentleman. But we have pressing matters.” My heart was racing, blood pounding. How dare they interrupt the investigation? How dare they steal valuable time from the search for Clara? They knew what was going on. I was certain of that or they wouldn’t have stepped between me and Jacobson’s door.
“Jacobson does not know where your wife is nor does he have access to the men that do,” Byrd said in a low voice as I pushed to my feet.
“What do you know about my wife?” I was on edge—one spark away from explosion. Everyone in the room seemed to know that, but they continued to light matches with their riddles and distractions.
“We know she’s been taken,” Henry said gently.
He knew. I stared at him, astonished. I wanted to know for how long. He hadn’t come to me. He hadn’t offered counsel or friendship or support. He’d stayed away like a goddamn coward.
“Why do you care?” I asked, flinging an accusatory finger his direction. “You told the doctors it was Clara that handled Mary’s medication.”
I hadn’t forgotten that Henry had done nothing to help Clara in the eyes of the doctors. I hadn’t forgotten the suspicion clouding his eyes after his mother’s death. If he believed she was responsible, he didn’t know either of us, which meant he couldn’t help us now.
“I was shaken,” Henry admitted, regret colouring his words, “but I know Clara would never do such a thing.”
Now he spoke in her defence. Was it because of our mixed company? Or because he actually believed it?
“The matter’s been dropped. We’ve seen to it,” Clark said. “Besides that, even if she was guilty, it wouldn’t be the first time a queen poisoned an in-law.”
They spoke as if such behaviour was forgivable. Perhaps the Council of Ghosts were more modern than they appeared. Or perhaps, monarchs could get away with murder. If so, I had a few people I wouldn’t mind deposing.
“Someone did have access to her medication,” Henry said, “and we should find out who.”
“The staff?” Smith offered.
Given how many people had access to our private rooms and saw to our needs, it was a good guess. Even with all our security protocols, it was possible someone had slipped through.
“Too obvious,” Clark said. “We screen all the individuals working in the palaces.”
“I thought that was our job,” Smith said dryly. I couldn’t help but note how willingly he’d accepted his role on my team. Perhaps, this wasn’t temporary assistance, after all.
“We have slightly different criteria,” Byrd said.
In other words, they wanted to make sure someone didn’t step on their toes. If someone was going to off the King, it was them. So then how had they missed this?
“If it’s not the staff…” I spread my hands not sure where this left us.
“Then it’s family or friends.”
“My grandmother didn’t have friends,” I said flatly, earning a sharp look from Henry. “It’s true. Not even you could stand her.”
“We weren’t speaking of her friends and family. We were speaking of yours,” Clark clarified.
Smith’s left eyebrow shot up and he dared a look at me as if to say are they suggesting what I think they are? He’d questioned the loyalty of those surrounding me and knew how I felt on the matter.
“I trust those closest to me with my life.” This statement was met by a shared look of apprehension that tightened my already stretched nerves.
What else did they know?
I couldn’t stand the constant doubt that simmered around them. Why tread like we were walking among landmines when someone had a gun to our heads? Now was the time for action, not hesitation.
“Perhaps, you shouldn’t trust them all,” Henry suggested gently.
“I suppose I should reconsider,” I said, glaring at him. I’d never trusted Henry— not truly. But I’d never let him near me. He’d been close to Clara. Too close. “It was you, wasn’t it? You told her about Sarah.”
Henry nodded, a pained expression shuddering his eyes for a moment. “I pointed her in a direction. Secrets destroy marriages. I saw that too clearly with your father and mother.”
I wasn’t buying his remorseful act. “My father was no saint.”
“Neither was your mother,” Henry said pointedly. “They were both simply humans.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant by that. I wanted to ask him how he dared to pretend he was part of this family while he was playing both sides. I wanted to tell him that he’d nearly cost me my marriage.
But that wasn’t true. I had nearly cost me my marriage. It was a sobering thought, but not nearly as disturbing as the thought that followed. Even now having done everything right, I might have lost Clara anyway.
“We should stay on track,” Smith suggested, calling my attention back to the threats.
“Unless you have answers about my wife, this is wasting my time.” I nodded once to the Council, the most deference I would show any of them. They might be Kingmakers but I already wore the crown.
Byrd’s mouth turned down. Of all the men who sat judging me, I disappointed him the most. It was like having my father in the room.
“We believe you are looking in the right direction regarding certain nonexistent agencies,” Clark said, finally circling round to the reason I’d come.
“How comforting coming from a nonexistent council,” I muttered. It was too little too late. I’d run out of time for listening to a board of sphinxes. “Thank you for the pat on the back. We need to go.”
They’d saved me the time of speaking with Oliver Jacobson and possibly the trouble of cleaning up a mess if I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. I suppose I owed them for that. But if they expected a thank you for wasting my time, they had another thing coming.
They’d interrupted this sordid game I’d been caught in mid-play. I had no idea what that would cost me. If they’d given our enemies time to move, it might be a price I would extract from them.
“If MI-18 is active, you should tread carefully,” Byrd advised. “They are no friend of either this government or your family.”
This was actually useful, a fact I found surprising.
“Then who are they looking out for?” I asked darkly. Part of me had wondered if MI-18 answered to them. They seemed to have enough men in play. But if MI-18 wasn’t controlled by the people or the crown that made them more dangerous than we’d guessed.
Until this moment, hadn’t been certain if we were searching for an ally or an enemy. Part of me had hoped, given Norris’s background with the organisation, they might help us. According to the Ghosts, they might be the ones behind this.
“That’s a question we must ask ourselves, and I believe it’s best to start with your ties to them,” Clark said.
I bit my lip. I wouldn’t reveal Norris to them or that he was missing, although I suspected that was what they were insinuating. “We have no ties.”
“That’s not true,” Henry said. “We’re not speaking of Norris, Alexander. You must think. There’s a new player on your board. Someone who wasn’t there the other times.”
I narrowed my eyes, wondering if I could squeeze a direct answer out of any of them. Brute force might be the only way.
“Who?” I said impatiently.
“Someone you’ve let into your home, someone who returned to us healthy and strong despite—”
“Ten years in a coma,” I finished for him as the world came into sharp focus.
My God, what had I done?
* * *
“Do you want to discuss it?” Smith asked, showing a surprising amount of sensitivity as we took our leave.
Of course, we needed to discuss it. So, I didn’t know why it was up to me whether or not to remain silent. I appreciated that he wasn’t going to immediately press the issue.
My head was swimming with the suggestions, but it added up. They’d laid out the pieces for me. How had I not seen? Sarah had returned in the middle of all of this. She’d been a headache. Or rather, a distraction. But could she be the one who betrayed me? Who betrayed Clara?
Clara was kind to her. We’d opened our home to her. She was my sister.
And why after ten years would she harbour enough hatred toward me to do something so terrible?
“I can’t believe and yet…”
“It makes sense,” Smith said grimly. “She’s been so busy acting like a fucking teenager that we didn’t bother to ask some pretty obvious questions.”
“I left her there,” I confessed. “I knew she was there and I didn’t visit. I listened to reports on her health. I…I…”
But, surely, my father had cared more. Except, he hadn’t. Henry had made that clear, too. Like me, Albert had rarely visited his middle child. He’d told his brother he couldn’t bear it.
And my father didn’t bother pushing his comfort zone.
But it wasn’t the ten years she’d lost. It was the ten years that had been stolen. Because if the Ghosts’s suspicions were correct, Sarah hadn’t been in a coma that whole time. What would happen to someone who was left by her family to rot and wither? How easy would it be to rend the ties that bound her to me—to her family—when no one came for her?
Now Clara was in that position, waiting and wasting away while we tried to untangle a mystery. The trouble was that every move we made only seemed to reveal a more twisted puzzle.
“What do you want to do about?” Smith asked, calling my attention back to Sarah. “Let’s put Georgia on her. She can be discreet, see where she’s going, and what she’s up to.”
“She’s going to love that.” I could imagine the complaints now. Georgia didn’t have much appreciation for my sister and her antics. If she felt it would help Clara, she would do it though.
“Actually…” Smith trailed off, but the words he left unsaid hung between us.
“What?” I demanded.
“Georgia doesn’t trust Sarah. You should speak with her.”
That’s what he’d been alluding to earlier when he’d questioned the pass I’d given my family. I’d thought he was insinuating Norris’s guilt. Instead, he’d been attempting delicacy. Georgia had seen this. Smith had seen this. They’d known something was wrong, and I’d been too focused on my problems with my marriage and arrogantly obsessing over my feud with Anders.
“Anders.” I said his name aloud, because it needed to be said.
“I thought we trusted him,” Smith said carefully.
I’d thought so too, but I couldn’t deny that my brother’s existence had been revealed rather conveniently. Maybe it had been another tool to distract me, another carefully placed bomb, timed to go off at the right time. It hardly mattered. I needed to reassess everyone. Clara had shown me that true courage meant facing my weaknesses rather than blinding myself to them. Maybe my family was my weakness. “I don’t trust anyone. Not anymore.”
Chapter 14
CLARA
We stared at each other for a long moment as the truth trickled through me like an unwanted drug. When Rachel had mentioned what the other men called her savior, I’d gotten chills. But somehow I’d convinced myself it wasn’t someone I knew.
It wasn’t someone I trusted.
It wasn’t someone I loved.
Because how could I ever believe anyone in my life would put me or my child in danger? How could someone in my family betray me?
I’d welcomed him into our lives, I’d fought for him, and that only made it even worse. I’d opened the door to a wolf and let him make himself at home. Never once had I suspected he was anyone other than who he said. Now my brain scrambled for clues I hadn’t seen, truths I hadn’t picked up on.
He’d been a bit of a loner at first, but he had good reason. Now I saw the sinister truth behind it. I’d never really met his family. I’d assumed so many things for so many reasons. Assumptions that seemed warranted then, but felt foolish now.
When he opened his mouth to speak, I held up my hand. I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. It was amazing how quickly love could turn to hate.
And I hated him.
I hated him for lying.
I hated him for what he’d done to me.
And I hated him for what he would do, because I knew beyond any doubt that he would betray my best friend.
“Clara,” David said, not heeding my warning, “I can explain.”
“I doubt that,” I spat back. Edging along the wall, I moved past him and hurried toward my room, thankful that the door locked.
But he followed, sticking the toe of his boot in the door so I couldn’t close it. “Can I come in?”
He asked even as he prevented me from locking him out. What was this? Some holdover of chivalry, the remnants of our false friendship?
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” I asked. “I’m your prisoner.”
He winced as though I’d slapped him. I didn’t buy it. But it was an act—all of it. He’d fooled every one of us into trusting him. He’d tricked us into caring about him. I wished I could hurt him now like he’d hurt me, but a man who was willing to sell his soul like this—how could I ever injure that? Anything I did would be like a paper cut when he’d inflicted a mortal wound. My life? My family? What he’d done to us would leave a gaping hole no matter how this turned out.
“I’ve wanted to come and check on you,” he said, taking a seat on the bed. His closeness sent nausea snaking through me.
“There’s no need.” We weren’t family or friends or even acquaintances. We were strangers. I knew that now.
“They wanted me to wait until…” He looked away and I knew I didn’t want him to finish that sentence. It could only end badly.
“Nice of you to come and visit the prisoner,” I said flatly. I had a million questions for him and no desire for answers. Because I saw how this would end.
“I didn’t plan this, you know,” he said after a long pause. “I didn’t mean to become friends with you.”
“This must be so hard on you,” I said dryly. “And we aren’t friends. We’re nothing.”
“That’s fair, I suppose, but I do genuinely care about you.” His brown eyes were as soft and warm as ever but I couldn’t trust them even though some latent subconscious affection called out to him.
“Then tell my husband where I am.” Something split in my chest and tears swelled my throat. “How could you do this? To me? To Edward?”
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with Edward,” he said quietly.
“You’re a monster.” How could he claim to love him and do this to him? There was nothing that could ever make me hurt Alexander this way. Whatever David thought he had with his husband was a lie.
“Maybe,” he admitted. “It was an assignment. I wasn’t supposed to get emotionally involved.”
“Stop,” I said. “I don’t care. I don’t want to hear how you’re sorry or you messed up.”
“I am sorry. I did mess up.” He ran his fingers over his closely cropped head. “I was in this before I knew any of you. If I could change things…”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You are lying,” I corrected him, “but not to me. You’re lying to yourself. You have a choice.”
“I don’t. If it was up to me…” he trailed away, his eyes skimming the walls. Someone was listening. We both knew it.
“It is up to you. It always was. You could have warned us. You could have told us the truth.”
“You don’t know these people. You don’t know what they
’re capable of,” he stormed, leaping to his feet and beginning to pace the room.
“I was wrong. You’re worse than a monster. You’re a fucking coward.”
“Clara, sometimes we hurt the people we love. You know that better than—”
“Don’t,” I warned him a low voice. “Don’t try to compare me and you. There’s no comparison.”
“Alexander’s hurt you. He’s lied to you!” He’d begun to shout as though maybe that would help get his point across.
“To protect me—to keep me safe!”
“I’m keeping Edward safe. I’m protecting him.” David turned and faced me, his face drawn with a pained mix of hope and remorse.
“You’re protecting yourself,” I whispered.
I knew about lies. I’d lived them. Some lies were like bad medicine, bitter to swallow but well-intended. Others were lies sold as much to the person who told them as anyone else. Most were simply self-serving—the mark of cowardice and disloyalty. I had enough experience to know what I was dealing with now.
“Get out,” I muttered.
“Clara—”
We were interrupted by the arrival of my evening meal. My eyes landed on the shiny red apple propped on the side of the tray. I knew what it meant. I knew what was coming.
That’s why David was here. My time was up. June had reported my latest blood pressure numbers to Dr. Rolland. I wasn’t ready, but would I ever be?
“What are they going to do to the baby?” I asked him, still staring at that apple.
“Clara, the baby will be fine. No one wants to…” He broke up like he didn’t want to finish that sentence.
“What?” I demanded. “I want to know. You owe me that much. Isn’t that why you’ve come to offer a dying woman some comfort?”
The stricken look in his eyes told me that I’d hit my mark. There was no plans to let me leave here. Not breathing. He’d known that when he had come. Maybe he wanted forgiveness or absolution. Maybe they’d forced him to attend me in my final hours.