by Geneva Lee
Alexander’s head turned away from me, his nostrils flaring for a moment before he spoke. “I need to speak to my brother. Alone.”
“I brought David and I think—”
“Just you,” Alexander said, leaving no room for further debate.
Edward threw an apologetic look at his husband. He looked torn between accepting his brother’s demand and refusing it.
“It’s okay, babe. I’ll hang with Clara.” David gave him a quick kiss, his eyes shifting between all of us warily.
“Maybe she should be in there, too,” Edward suggested.
“No,” I said before Alexander could clarify what I already knew. He wasn’t excluding David from this meeting. He was rejecting me. I’d been included until I’d opened my big mouth and said the one thing I should never have said to him. The one thing I’d promised I never would say. My throat slid over the ache of tears. I refused to cry in front of them.
Edward mashed his lips together and set his shoulders before striding into the office. He looked like a man going to his death. He knew bad news was coming his way. I knew that it wouldn’t matter if David was in there or if I was next to him. Nothing was going to soften this betrayal.
Alexander paused at the door like he was going to say something. His blue eyes found mine, but instead of speaking, he shut the door between us.
“Walk?” David suggested softly.
“I need to get Elizabeth first.” My voice cracked a bit, but I pretended to cough. I wasn’t fooling him, but he didn’t call me on it.
I didn’t need to get Elizabeth. She was fine with Penny, but right now I needed a tangible connection to Alexander. The baby had been particularly calm today and I missed his wild kicks. My daughter would distract me from this mess. Being with her would remind me of what was really important.
It took us a few minutes to wrangle Elizabeth into a jacket and shoes.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. She wouldn’t nap. She seems determined to stay awake,” Penny said, as Elizabeth threw her body backwards in protest of being zipped up.
“Stubborn girl,” I murmured to her. “Just like your father.”
When I finally had her bundled up enough for the cool spring day, David was grinning from the door.
“Don’t laugh,” I warned him. “I won’t have any sympathy when it’s your turn.”
“I might be borrowing yours,” he said, a shade of regret in his words.
“If you want to talk,” I offered as we headed through the western wing toward the gardens.
“I feel like I could say the same.”
“I don’t feel like talking about it,” I admitted, watching Elizabeth as she ran drunkenly ahead of us.
“Neither do I.”
“New subject then?” I asked. David opened the doors and I scooped Elizabeth up and carried her down the stairs, plopping her down when we reached the grass.
“How are you feeling with the baby…” he trailed off. “Sorry, Edward told me. We don’t keep secrets from each other. Hazard of marriage, I guess.”
“How refreshing,” I said dryly. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
“We just want to help in any way we can. I know you haven’t told Alexander. I won’t ask you why,” he added.
“Thank you.” I could strangle Belle for telling Edward.
David thought for a moment. “How worried should I be about this meeting?”
I grimaced at the question. I’d been hoping to avoid what was going on behind Alexander’s closed door. I opened my mouth and shut it again, not sure what to tell him.
“That bad, huh?” David gave a low whistle, which made Elizabeth clap. He smiled down at her. “What is it this time? Secret twin sisters in Sussex?”
“I wish,” I muttered. It had been easier for us to forgive Alexander when he was struggling to come to terms with his father’s secret child. This was entirely different. Alexander had known and he had kept it from us. I felt betrayed. I couldn’t imagine how Edward would feel.
“Christ. Will this ever end?” David looked to the sky, shaking his head and Elizabeth mimicked him. The movement proved a bit too advanced, though, and she toppled head first into the grass. David picked her up before the crying got past the initial lip tremble.
“Thanks,” I said, rubbing my stomach. The baby kicked me in greeting. “I don’t think it will end.”
“Too bad we’re stuck for life.” He grinned but it didn’t light up his face like usual.
“Are we?” I asked absently.
“Ummm.” His hesitation made me realize I’d actually said that aloud. “I guess not. Not like they are anyway, but…Clara, you’re not actually…”
“Of course not.” But my answer sounded forced, even to me.
“They’re not easy men to love,” David said in a quiet voice, “but isn’t that why we love them?”
“I used to think that. I’m not sure anymore.”
“I understand, Clara. I really do, but you and Alexander, you two have a love that only exists in poetry.” David probably did understand better than anyone else what it was like to have your world upended by falling for a powerful man.
“That might be true, but poetry isn’t real. It’s only pretty words.” Elizabeth reached out for me and I took her into my arms. She looked so much like her father with her dark hair and blue eyes. Her stubborn streak only cemented the similarities. Most days she was a beautiful reminder of our love. Today it physically hurt to look at her. I’d messed up. I’d pushed him too far. I’d destroyed us and she would pay the price for her parents’ broken love.
“What did he do?” David finally asked. “What—”
The slam of a door interrupted us and we looked up to see Edward stomping toward us. Even across the gardens, I could see the anguish twisting his features.
“Oh God, what did he do?” David asked again as his husband strode up to us.
“We need to leave,” Edward said in a clipped tone. He was looking across the lawns, but his eyes were trapped in the past.
“Edward, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” he cut me off. “I’m not angry with you. He told me…he told me that you didn’t know. I just can’t be here right now.”
He kissed Elizabeth on the forehead before grabbing David’s hand. “We’ll talk soon.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I watched them leave, feeling a little piece of my heart slipping away. My family was crumbling all around me and I was powerless to stop it. I could only try to survive the fall.
Chapter 6
Alexander
I dressed in the bathroom off my office, splashing my face with water in lieu of a shower. Shaving was trickier, but, unfortunately, a necessary evil today. A new suit had been delivered—one of Clara’s favourites. I didn’t ask who sent it. I suspected it was Norris, who would want to see me looking my best for today’s press conference. I would have preferred it was my wife. But it wasn’t as if making certain I had clean clothes was a sign that she’d reconsidered how she felt about me. I was a starving man searching for crumbs.
I’d considered sending her roses for our anniversary, but flowers weren’t going to cut it this time.
As I opened the office door, I came face-to-face with Prime Minister Clark. His was the last face I felt like seeing this morning.
“Good morning,” I said, feeling it was anything but. “I had no idea the Prime Minister attended press conferences.”
Didn’t he have more important things to do? Somehow, though, we were still locked in a battle over who was in control of this country. I’d hand it over to him in a heartbeat—if I thought he could handle it.
“I will not be attending, obviously,” he said, as if the time and place for us to be seen together was definitely not a press conference. I couldn’t agree more. “No, I wanted to speak with you about how you were going to handle it.”
“Handle what?” I barely kept my voice even. If the news had leaked to Parliament there was
no telling who else knew. I hadn’t been made aware of the story spilling. Yet, here was the sodding prime minister come to advise me once again.
“I assume this has to do with the motion Parliament is considering.” He glanced into the office as though he felt uncomfortable speaking of it in the open.
Relief washed over me. That was a problem for another day. I stepped to the side and beckoned him inside. Closing the door behind me, I chose my words carefully. “This is about another matter.”
“The Sovereign Games? I should think a press release would do.” He was needling me for information, but he wasn’t going to get any.
I didn’t need to see another disappointed face. Not before I was about to come clean to the world about my family secret. I also knew he’d make it worse by spouting off some fatherly bullshit that I didn’t need or want to hear.
“It’s a family matter.” It was best to keep things as simple as possible. “I don’t think I need to address the motion before Parliament. These types of legislation have been suggested before. They never gather steam and—”
“It’s moving forward,” he interrupted me, looking rather shocked that I hadn’t heard.
“It won’t continue past that.” I sounded more sure than I was. I’d made a few enemies in Parliament over the last couple of years. Since it had been discovered that I was holding one of their own on charges of treason there had been a sort of reverse witch hunt directed at me. Why, I couldn’t fathom. I understood wanting to avoid suspicion, but this was something more. How many enemies had my father made inside Parliament that so many were now turning on the crown?
“You’ll have to appeal to them,” Clark advised. “You haven’t done enough to court your father’s allies and he had many of them in both the House of Commons and the House of Lords. If you want to retain your family’s power, you’re going to have to start playing the game, son.”
“I thought the King was above games.” I thought no such thing, but I enjoyed how Clark squirmed when I reminded him exactly who I was to this country—and him. Plus, he seemed to need the reminder.
Clark didn’t squirm though, which was disappointing. “If your father had a fatal flaw, it was his arrogance. I’d hoped you wouldn’t follow down the same path.”
I bypassed the fact that the Prime Minister had just insulted me to my face, and did my best to shake off his comparison between me and my father. It was the last reminder I needed today. “If my father had a fatal flaw it was that he stepped in front of a bullet, Prime Minister.”
“You don’t seem to understand.” He ignored the tasteless joke. “This motion would strip the majority of the powers the monarchy still holds. It would withdraw your right to declare war. It would significantly reduce your holdings and strip your family of a number of its estates. You would simply become a man living in a castle playing at being king.”
“Better than a man who wishes he was King.” I had no idea why I was pushing things so far with him. Maybe because I needed to get it out of my system. Maybe because I couldn’t stomach one more person telling me that I was doing a shit job. None of them understood what was really at stake.
“Your father thought nothing could touch him, too. I suggest you remember what happened to him.” He stood and straightened his jacket before walking out of the room and leaving me to my ghosts.
Not only was I running late, I was now in a foul mood. Rounding the corner, I took the private corridor that led between my offices and the state rooms. The press conference was being held in the white room where only a few weeks ago Clara had publicly announced her withdrawal as host of the Sovereign Games. At the rate we were hosting press conferences, we were going to have to rename the room.
Norris met me halfway there, looking unusually flustered. “I’m told the Prime Minister paid you visit.”
“He was delivering a message,” I said through a clenched jaw. My mood wasn’t going to improve until I could let this go. “Or rather, a warning.”
“Which was?” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow. It wasn’t like Norris to get this anxious. Then again, it wasn’t every day that someone publicly came back from the dead.
“The measures limiting the monarch’s power are moving to a vote.”
“They won’t pass without public approval,” he said swiftly. I wasn’t sure which one of us he was trying to make feel better.
“And he compared me to my father a bunch of times,” I added.
Norris winced. If anyone understood how I would take that, it was him. Before my father married my mother, Norris had worked for him. Then, Norris was placed in charge of the family’s security. I’d grown up under his watchful eye. More than once, I suspected he’d gone toe-to-toe with my father regarding his parenting choices. Norris had been more a source of guidance than he’d ever been.
“Tell me,” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Can I have someone killed?”
Norris’s face went white before he realized I was joking. In fairness, my jokes were a bit off today.
“You wouldn’t be the first King to do it,” he said with a chuckle.
My mood was beginning to lift, but there was a ceiling on how far it could go. There always was, except for when I was with Clara. But I wasn’t with her now. Not really. Not after she’d told me how she really felt.
“Will Clara be there?” I tried to sound casual.
Norris, who usually had no problem sticking his nose into my marriage, had been oddly silent the last few days. It was as though he—and everyone else—knew I’d finally gone and permanently broken my relationship with my wife. There had been no well-meaning lectures or attempts to force the two of us together. Deep down, I even knew it was him sending the suits to my office every morning. If Norris had given up, what hope was left?
“She’s—” He stopped talking as Clara came into view.
Behind her, an entire press corps was waiting to discover the worst thing I’d ever done. The secret I never should have kept. But it didn’t matter, because, right now, there was only her.
She was dressed in a blue that matched my mood. I would never get used to the sight of my wife. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Delicate but strong. Fragile but unbreakable. We might be broken, but she never would be. She wasn’t born a royal. She was born a queen.
Neither of us spoke, and Norris excused himself and ducked quietly into the white room.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” I had no right to expect anything of her. She’d made that clear.
Clara bit her lip, her lashes fluttering down for a moment, and I realized she was holding back frustration. “I’m always with you, Alexander, even when you think I’m not.”
I extended one hand not certain she would take it. Clara laced her fingers through mine. It felt right to touch her. I kept this thought to myself, although I held her hand tightly.
“Ready?” she asked me softly.
“No.” We walked through the door anyway.
Edward had already arrived and I was relieved to see him. I’d known better than to expect either my wife or brother to stand by my side while I faced the consequences of my father’s decision. It was as much my mistake as his now, though. I’d agreed to it, coerced during my lowest point, but I had been a man when I’d continued my silence. I was as culpable as him.
Friendly chatter filled the room, none of the reporters aware of the scoop they were about to receive. It was best this way, having my family with me. It would lay to rest any speculation about troubles between us. Edward leaned over and kissed Clara on the cheek, whispering something I couldn’t make out. Her soft laugh rewarded him and I felt a pang of jealousy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made her laugh. All I received from my brother by way of greeting was a jerk of the head. It was a start.
Things would soon be different for all of us. One Royal, thought lost, had been found. I couldn’t help but wonder what price we would pay for her return.
; There were no table nor chairs set up for the event, but rather a podium. I wanted to keep this as brief as possible. There would be one million questions, and it wouldn’t matter if I answered them all. Every paper from gossip rags to The Times was going to be reporting any information they could get their hands on—fact or fiction. We would sort out the truth later.
Clara’s hand stayed in mine as I took the podium, my brother flanking me on the left. I paused a moment, allowing for conversations to die down before clearing my throat.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve called you here without any prior press release. There will be a handout distributed at the end covering a few important items. We will be limiting the number of questions we answer and we ask that you respect our family during this time. It is with equal parts joy and regret—” I paused, gathering the scraps of courage I had left after facing my wife and brother, before continuing “—that I must inform you that my sister, Sarah Cambridge, who was reported dead nearly ten years ago, has awoken from a comatose state and will be rejoining our family soon.”
My words hit like anticipated. Instantly, the reporters were on their feet. Questions flew at me from every direction. Cameras snapped. I’d been right to do this before we brought her home. This was my cross to bear.
One question rose above the others, coming from a dozen different directions: why were we told she was dead?
“If I may,” I said loudly, holding up a hand and waiting for things to quiet to a dull roar. “Sarah’s prognosis following the accident was hopeless. We were told there was no brain activity and that she would spend the rest of her life in a vegetative state. My father couldn’t bear the thought of ever removing her from life support. Instead, he arranged for her to be attended by private physicians at a royal residence. She was not expected to ever wake up.”
As soon as I stopped speaking, the questions started again.
Why lie about her death?
What was the cost of her life support? I was glad I didn’t see who’d yelled that one out.