Bastian continued, his voice hushed, though it carried through the centries-old structure. “Alana’s been wonderful and so supportive, but if I hear one more blubbering, insolent comment from her,” he said, motioning his head behind him, I’m going to lose it.”
“I understand. To say that she’s been empathetic is a bit of a stretch, no?” That came from Remy.
“All I know is that I can’t have her around anymore.”
“Do you want me to take care of it?” Remy asked, squaring his shoulders.
Bastian shook his head doggedly. “No, that won’t be necessary. Let me handle it, ok?” And then, “Thanks for listening.” He checked his watch, peering around presumably for me.
What was I supposed to do? It would’ve been easy to assume that they were speaking about me, but it didn’t make sense.
Bastian and I had professed our love for one another in Greece. He and I were in a good place, albeit strained from losing his father. I was confident in his feelings for me, so who were they talking about?
Unlike the ill timed investigation conversation, I decided to confront him on the matter tomorrow. I didn’t need to be as hounding as a reporter.
I walked back to the two of them, my heels echoing as I closed the distance.
“Must get a move on, love. You ready?” Bastian asked, holding his arm out for me.
“I am ready,” I replied. “Are you?” I asked, concerned about his well being.
“Is anyone ever really ready to bury one of their parents?” he asked rhetorically.
I supposed not. I offered him a comforting smile and took his arm as we made our way down the aisle and to the car, where Henri was waiting for us.
Once inside, I felt Bastian relax, and it impressed me how quickly he could switch his persona from public to private in a matter of moments. He knew as well as any of us that the attention was on him as we exited the cathedral, and he put on a mask of stocism.
He sighed deeply as we made our way in the motorcade, and I patted his knee, letting him know that I was there for him. I’d found in my own grief, despite being in close proximity to someone, you could still forget their presence.
I wanted to ground him, to make him feel tethered to something tangible other than his affliction. He was holding up better than I had imagined, but I knew under his professional façade that he was hurting. How could he not?
I spent the drive trying to focus on him, rather than the conversation. It helped pass the time, and when we arrived, we all made our way to the chapel.
Unlike Bastian’s brother, King Arik’s final resting place would be in the chapel under a beautiful effigy. The ceremony was intimate and private, and I know both Bastian and Lidia appreciated that.
I held Bastian’s hand throughout, his other hand holding his mother’s. The bishop’s words were a beautiful conclusion to the short, but not forgotten life of a husband, father and ruler.
And then it was over.
Filing out of the small chapel, the group was to meet in one of the drawing rooms for light refreshments. I knew Bastian would be needed in a formal capacity, so I didn’t feel as bad when I told him I was going to go home.
“Are you alright, love?”
I nodded. “It’s just everything from today…it’s given me a horrible headache and I’m emotionally drained. Are you going to be alright if I go home?” I asked.
He looked around at everyone still left and found my eyes once more. “I’ll be fine. I couldn’t have gotten through the day without you, Alana.”
“You could’ve because you’re strong, but I’m glad I was here to help,” I offered. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, ok?”
He leaned down to kiss me, saying goodbye.
Henri drove me home, and all the while I thought of a way to breech the subject with Bastian tomorrow.
Chapter 16
Alana
Needing background noise, I turned the TV on hoping for anything other than the news as I grabbed my morning coffee. I had slept horribly and though I hadn’t drank a drop, I felt like a hangover was clouding my mind.
There was a dull ache that was starting at the back of my neck, curling its way up and over the back of my skull. Sighing, I rolled my shoulders, trying to release some of the tension that was mounting, but gave up and began to pace the kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors, haphazardly thinking of something to make for breakfast.
I settled on eggs, appreciative of the fact I wasn’t allergic to them like Bastian was. Hopefully the protein would help quell the throbbing in my head, along with the caffeine.
A local morning show was on, the hosts discussing yesterday’s events, but they were more focused on the fashion. As if that was appropriate to think about as you celebrated one’s life.
I was happy that the sizzle of the frying pan drowned them out momentarily, but after plating the eggs and buttering some toast, one of the hosts caught my attention.
“…and can you believe, after dating for only a few months, Prince Bastian’s girlfriend was right there. I don’t know who this woman is, but she definitely acted like she belonged in his circle…”
“…Oh, give the girl a break,” said another host. “She’s clearly head over heels for him—and who can blame her, am I right?”
At least someone was rooting for me.
“Please,” scoffed the third. “The Promiscuous Prince? Having the gall to invite his latest short-term girlfriend to his father’s funeral? It’s distasteful if you ask me.”
Well, no one had asked, I thought. I was fed up, unable to listen to another second of the gossip that was so petty and uninformed.
I grabbed the remote from the counter and as I pointed it at the TV to turn it off, I stopped in my tracks. The three hosts had thankfully moved on from the topic of yours truly, and had shifted gears to none other than Luna.
And if listening about strangers discussing whether or not I was worthy enough for Bastian wasn’t bad enough, I was more inclined to turn off the TV when I saw Luna’s face. But I couldn’t.
The screen behind the women showed a still of Luna. Again, they were discussing fashion choices of the higher ranking attendees, but her dress was not what caught my eye.
It was a full body shot of Luna talking with a man. Her hand was on his forearm, a suggestive, flirting quality to the gesture. Her eyes were mostly hidden behind the mesh veil of her fascinator, but it was the man she was with that struck me, giving me a sense of déjà vu.
I had seen him somewhere before, I was sure of that. He was taller than Luna, and was filled out in a way that wasn’t overweight, but the man was big.
And looked intimidating.
Like he could bully and push people around if he wanted to.
Or interrogate them on the streets…
…and chase them down for a picture.
The scar running down the left side of his face confirmed that it was the leader of the paparazzi group that had harrassed Bastian and me.
“Oh my god,” I breathed, the reality of the image and all it represented sinking in.
Had Luna paid those men to follow me and get information out of me? But why?
It at least explained her venomous attitude towards me, but what had I done to her?
All of it seemed a little too extreme to chalk up to jealousy, but who knew anymore. My mind was reeling, the possibilities coming to me faster than I knew what to do with.
What I did know, was I had to do something and do it now.
My phone was still sitting on the coffee table where I had discarded it last night. I swiped it open to find I had missed a text from Zara and a few from Bastian.
Once I had gotten home last night I was mentally spent and forgot to let him know I had made it home alright. I sent him a quick response, following it up with the fact that I needed to talk to him.
I hit send and the message never registered that it was read, just delivered. I called him immediately, but it went straight to voice mail. Af
ter the third attempt, I gave up.
If I wasn’t able to get ahold of him, maybe, just maybe, I could talk to Remy.
He shared an extreme dislike for Luna, and hopefully I had a better chance of reaching him.
When Remy and I chatted at the castle during the reception, he had casually said he was staying at Bastian’s apartment downtown. There was no reason for him to prolong his stay now that the funeral was over. Would I be able to catch him before he left?
I knew how to get to the apartment, having spent a good deal of time there, but even if I showed up, I’d have no way of getting in. Pushing those thoughts aside, I scrolled through my phone and hit the call button.
My heart raced as my phone dialed the number on the expensive business card in my hand. What if Remy didn’t answer? I hadn’t thought past the possibility of not getting ahold of him.
On the fifth ring he answered.
“Remy, it’s Alana…Bastian’s…girlfriend.”
“Do you think I’d forgotten who you were?” He held a playfulness to his tone, but I didn’t have time for it.
“Look,” I said abruptly. “There’s something I need to tell you and you have to promise to keep an open mind about it, ok?”
He cleared his throat, his voice more serious. “Alright…I’m listening.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the king being murdered? I had shared my thoughts yesterday with Bastian, and it was really bad timing on my part; he was upset.” I relayed what I had seen on the TV. “There’s something not right about it…I don’t trust her and if you’d have been there with us, being chased by those men, you’d know they weren’t after just a picture or two. And then to see Luna with that man…”
Remy was quiet, and after a while I had wondered if he’d hung up. “I see. Why are you telling me and not Bastian?”
“I can’t get a hold of him,” I confessed. “I’ve tried his cell three times and it goes straight to voice mail.” I sighed, deciding I’d bring up what I overheard with Remy, since Bastian was unreachable. “Look, I don’t know if he’s avoiding me, or if he’s upset, but can you tell me who you guys were talking about when I was in the loo yesterday?” I explained what I had overheard and he was quick to respond.
“It wasn’t you he was talking about.”
That made me feel better. The doubt that was hanging on like an errant piece of scotch tape refusing to let go, was now buried with truth.
“It was Luna,” he confirmed. “Her incessant bitching was wearing on him, and all throughout the funeral she was obnoxious—you heard her, right?”
“Yeah…she was doing a fine job of making it about her,” I agreed.
“I’m not sure Luna was acting alone. Shit, this is worse than I thought,” he replied. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Remy? What’s worse? You’re scaring me.”
“Have the forensic reports been released yet?” he asked, switching the subject.
I racked my brain. “Um, Bastian said they were going to be completed by the end of next week, I think. Why?”
“During the reception I was talking with the Prime Minister—Nikola. I didn’t think anything of it until now,” he said, setting the foundations of what was surmounting to be a story I wasn’t sure I wanted to believe. “The topic naturally turned to Arik, stories were shared and whatnot, but then he said something about how tragic it was, the way he died.”
“I don’t understand,” I interrupted. “Of course, it was tragic.”
“Well, he said it was tragic ‘to be on the receiving end of a .270 bullet’, and how he hoped it was a swift death and Arik hopefully didn’t feel a thing.”
“How would he know specific details like the type of bullet that killed him if the reports haven’t been released?” I asked, already surmising the answer.
“Exactly…look, when you were in the restroom, Luna flung herself at Bash, crying on his shoulder, beginning to make a scene. I politely pulled her off and handed her back over to Nikola. He took Luna away but Bastian was irritated with her, and the stress of the day compounded, and that was when he said what he did.
“That’s really what you overheard. Between Nikola’s slip up and Luna’s indiscretion in a public setting, there’s enough evidence,” he concluded. “We need to tell Bastian what we found. I’m at his apartment still; I need you to come here and together we’ll inform him. I’d say to call Henri, but he and Bastian left early this morning for his tour of the kingdom.”
I hadn’t realized Bastian was leaving that quickly. He had mentioned he’d be doing a three-day tour, hitting the different provinces and introducing himself as king.
“No, that’s fine, I know how to get there. I can be there in an hour. I’ll call when I’m outside so you can let me in.”
“See you in an hour.”
Chapter 17
Bastian
Yesterday was the hardest day of my life. Nothing could have prepared me for the anguish and sadness I felt.
The service was beautiful and touching, filled with solemn moments and lighthearted bits. My mother was beyond strong, the epitome of stability in an otherwise shaky time, personally and professionally.
Henri and I left early this morning, starting my tour in the north provence of the country. I was to meet and address my people, now, as their king. Each day would be a different provence, and seeing as there were only three, I’d be home rather quickly.
I’d have preferred to stay at the castle a little longer, offering mother comfort, but my royal duties now dictated a firmer stance. We were an hour north of the castle when my phone alerted to me to a missed text. Only it continued until four missed texts popped up on my screen like an aggressive advertisement.
The particular stretch of highway we were on wound through the mountains, and I was lucky to get service at all. Alana had texted. I read through the thread, seemingly light at first, but not boding well by the last one.
Sugar Tits: Call me when you get this
Sugar Tits: You might be out of cell range
Sugar Tits: Been trying to call you, leaving you a VM
Sugar Tits: Check your VM. Something’s happened and I’m on my way to your apartment to meet Remy
Shit. I looked at the time stamp of when she sent the texts and it was roughly an hour ago—right when the service inevitably turned shoddy.
I quickly checked my voice mails, and the one she left didn’t offer any further information than what she had texted. I pressed send and was met with ‘Hi, you’ve reached Alana…’. I tried again, to no avail.
I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I went down the list of people involved, and called Remy, praying I’d get through to him.
“Finally!” he exclaimed in lieu of a greeting.
“Miss me already?” I asked Remy.
“Something like that,” he said, an off putting tone to his voice.
“Is everything alright?”
“Not particularly. There’s something we need to tell you and it’s something better done in person. Postpone the tour and meet us at your apartment.” I’d never heard him sound so serious, Remy always being a prankster.
“I can’t just postpone the tour, Remy. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Look, it’s not something to discuss over the phone,” he said, a clipped note in his voice. “Plus,” he said, “Alana said she’d be here an hour ago and she hasn’t shown yet.”
“What? She’s not there yet?” I asked, worry spreading through me. “She called and texted me when she left, asking me to call her back. I was out of service until now.” Shit. I didn’t like this one bit.
Remy swore.
I tapped Henri on the shoulder, and made a spinning motion with my hand. My apartment, I mouthed to him.
“We’re turning around,” I told Remy. “Tell me; it’s about my father, isn’t it?”
“That, and more. See you when you get here,” he said cryptically and hung up.
Henri looked at
me in the rearview mirror.
“Drive,” I said, my teeth clenched. “Faster.”
Alana’s words kept replaying in my head.
Investigation.
Murder.
Rumors.
Theories.
It was the only thing that I could think of in the two hours it took us to get back to Slaždin. What else would warrant Remy’s insistence?
Could it be true? In my grief, I had turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the possibility. Losing father was a sorrow I didn’t wish on my worst enemy. It was dark and consuming. It ran deep and it hurt like hell.
Henri parked the car while I wished in vain that the lift would go faster. I was met with Remy pacing in the sunken sitting room, just off the foyer.
“Remy,” I exclaimed. “What’s going on?”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, his features worried.
“I suggest you start at the beginning,” I said with a control that surprised me.
“Alana and I have reason to believe that Arik was murdered,” he started.
I leveled him with a look that said ‘go on’, crossing my arms across my chest. After what Alana had mentioned to me yesterday, this wasn’t news to me, but the fact that Remy was just as vehement as she was, alarmed me.
“And we think Nikola and Luna are responsible.” His statement stunned me more than the accusation of murder.
“I’ll admit that Luna is manipulative and obnoxious, but that doesn’t mean she’s a killer. And Nikola? The Prime Minister for Christ’s sake…? We can’t just go around throwing accusations around. There are implications if we’re not careful.”
The lift doors opened and Henri silently entered, but kept to the shadows where he was comfortable.
“No shit, Bash. Do you really think we wouldn’t have brought this to your attention if we didn’t believe it to be true?” Remy recounted how it had started with a phone call from Alana explaining her suspicions.
“That’s what she was calling to tell me,” I said, shoving my hands in my pants pockets.
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