Royals Saga 3 Crown Me (17 page)

E
ight minutes had never taken so long. My arm ached from acknowledging the crowds as the borrowed Bentley drove leisurely along the official procession route toward Westminster Abbey.

Next to me my brother was at ease, a charismatic smile gracing his face as he waved.

“You’re much better at being Royal than I am,” I informed him as the car turned toward Whitehall.

He glanced at me and shook his head. “I’ll remind you of that when the whole of England is up in arms about my engagement.”

“Your engagement?” I repeated, turning to stare at him. “Were you planning on telling me?”

“You’ve had quite enough on your mind, which is why I made Clara swear not to tell you until after the wedding.”

Another bombshell. “Clara knew?”

“Of course, she helped me pick out the ring.”

“I can’t believe you two kept this from me.” But no part of me could be angry. Not when my brother had a chance at the happiness I had found.

“Obviously I couldn’t keep it from you,” he pointed out. “Which is why I stole your thunder.”

“You only made this day more perfect,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder as the car pulled to the entrance of the gothic cathedral. “Although it is strange to think of my little brother getting married.”

“Says the notorious womaniser,” Edward shot back as the passenger door opened.

An officer saluted us when we reached the red carpet leading into the abbey. Just past the gates Edward and I paused to wave to the crowd. It was expected. Mostly another photo opportunity for the press. But I felt an odd sense of pride surge through me as I regarded the crowd. All my life I’d resented how the press laid claim to my personal life. I’d expected to feel the same today. Instead, as the onlookers cheered and waved Union Jacks, I felt grateful. These people had embraced Clara. I had no misconception they were here to see me.

She was as much their princess now as she was mine.

Edward leaned in beside me. “Pausing for a photo op? The tables have turned. Unless, of course, you’re flipping them the bird.”

“I’ll flip it to you if you’re not careful,” I warned him.

He sighed and strode forward. “Get inside before you upend the monarchy. Clara deserves one drama-free day.”

Invited guests had already arrived, but we stopped in salute as two familiar faces appeared in our path.

“At ease,” Brexton ordered with a chuckle.

I ignored him and regarded my former commanding officer, Squadron Leader Kelly. “Sir.”

“Your Highness,” he bowed.

My hand reached out and caught his forearm in a firm, friendly shake. “Now that formalities are out of the way, how are you?”

Kelly cocked his greying head toward Brexton and grimaced, drawing out his considerable wrinkles. “I’ve had to babysit this one all morning. How do you think?”

“In my defence,” Brexton interrupted, “I have a bet going with some of the guys about how many hats we can collect.”

“Hats?” Edward asked. He looked to me for answers, but I shrugged.

“There are a number of lovely ladies wearing hats here today. It makes it easier to keep track of which ones we can get into dark corners at the reception.” He paused, winking at me. “There are bonus points for feathers and unique colours, of course.”

“Brex, it’s good to know some things never change.” I shook my head, unable to hold back a laugh.

“We’re doing it for you, poor boy. It’s the end of an era.”

I nodded solemnly, though I wondered if they knew I was content to see that old life draw to a close. Taking our leave, we continued through the crowd, stopping to make polite conversation on our way to the Chapter House. When we were finally alone in the octagonal chamber, I turned to Edward. “I suggest you elope.”

“As if Father would sanction my marriage.” He rolled his eyes, but I didn’t miss the edge of pain in his tone. I knew the ache of rejection when I heard it.

The papers in my pocket, officially condoning my marriage, grew heavy, reminding me that anything was possible. Yesterday I would have said the same thing. “We’ll have to work on him. Look on the bright side.”

“Which is?” Edward asked.

When Clara and I had returned from our honeymoon, I would appeal to our father, choosing to believe I could sway his apathy towards his youngest son.

“At least, David is British.” I grinned at my younger brother, bumping my elbow against his. The weight I’d carried for the last few months had lifted. Things were finally falling into place, and I wanted Edward to feel as light as I did.

“He does have that on his side.” He paused, regarding me with studious eyes.

“What?” I prompted.

“I’ll admit I didn’t expect to see you this happy.”

I inclined my head. “Neither did I.”

Trumpets sounding my father’s fanfare echoed through the chamber.

“The guest of honour,” Edward muttered. “It will be nearly time then.”

“In a moment,” I stalled, wondering where my personal security advisor was.

Norris entered. My pulse sped up, returning to normal when he smiled.

“Your uniforms have always suited you,” he said as he approached us.

Despite his long years serving the King, Norris wore a tailored morning suit. It was a calculated move. I’d arranged for him to be seated with Clara’s family. To most he would appear as another guest, but it reassured me to know he was on her other side.

“The guard reports no suspicious activity,” he informed me.

The police and guard had run continual sweeps of the streets, dismantling light posts and checking sewer drains for bombs. But I was more concerned with the guests and the crowd gathered along the procession route. “Anyone of interest among the crowd?”

There was only one person of interest to me. I didn’t have to tell Norris that. Daniel had vanished from the grid again after he’d managed to breach our engagement gala.

“A few kooks,” he said, “and there was an incident with a horse.”

I raised an eyebrow just as Edward repeated, “An incident with a horse?”

“Something spooked it and took off near Whitehall, made it all the way to Parliament Square before a chap caught him.” He clapped a hand over my uniform’s epaulette. “We’re in prime shape if the worst we have to contend with is wild horses.”

We laughed. Norris’s hand stayed planted on my shoulder. My father’s fanfare ended, and I couldn’t help but think that my true father stood with me here under the vaulted ceiling of the chamber. Albert may have granted me permission to marry Clara, but Norris had protected her. He’d guided me as I continued to cock things up during our courtship. I was only standing here today because of him.

“Thank you.” My words were thick, coated in emotions I never knew how to express.

“It is not my duty, but my privilege.”

I embraced him in a warm hug. He pulled away, placing his hand to his nearly invisible earpiece. “Clara has arrived at the West entrance. It’s time.”

I inhaled deeply and squared my shoulders.

“Last chance to run,” Edward whispered as we exited toward the East Cloister.

“Not a chance in hell.”

We emerged into the sanctuary. I barely processed the presence of the guests. I nodded as they smiled and wished me well as I passed. Over three thousand people were in attendance and all I could think of was the one climbing the front steps. I met my father’s eye as I approached the altar. Next to him my grandmother was absorbed in reading her programme.

As we ascended, I counted each step. They were the final ones I would take before claiming Clara as mine forever. Edward stood next to me, our backs turned as the congregation began to sing the processional hymn, signalling Clara’s march had begun. Every instinct in my body compelled me to turn. I wanted to watch her approach, to see her choosing me as I had chosen her, but I held to decorum. Next to me, Edward glanced over his shoulder, a wide smile splitting his face.

“She’s on her way,” he told me. I glanced to him and his face said it all.

A deep peace settled over me. The moment had come and there was no doubt. No trepidation. In that moment, my life made total sense. Each moment brought her closer to me until finally I heard the rustle of silk and footsteps on the stairs.

And then she was at my side. She paused, allowing her father to lift the veil from her face. She placed her delicate hand in mine and I drunk in the sight of her. An unexpected lump settled in my throat. She was here. She was mine.

“You are perfect,” I whispered, and a slight flush stole over her porcelain features. Someday I wouldn’t be able to recall what her dress looked like or that she had chosen pearls instead of diamonds. But I would recall the blush on her cheeks. The blood-red roses she carried. And this feeling. Oh God, I would remember this amazement.

The Dean of Westminster approached us. He spoke, but I didn’t hear what he said. His words didn’t matter. Only mine did.

“I will.”

Our eyes stayed locked as he repeated himself until she uttered a soft, “I will.”

He began the vows, pausing to allow me to repeat after him, but as I opened my mouth, a murmur rose from the guests. My hand tightened over Clara’s as I glanced out to the crowd.

Impossible.

It was the only thought that filtered into my conscious thoughts before he raised his gun and fired the first shot. I heard the crowd erupt in panic as my father stepped into the aisle to confront the rogue police officer.

His name was on my lips but I couldn’t bring myself to call it out, even as my arm lashed out to draw Clara behind me.

“Stop!” My father’s command boomed and echoed over the clamour of the crowd.

“She belongs to me!” Daniel screamed. He swung the gun in wild arcs, sending guests scattering. “She will never be your whore!”

I lunged forward and agony rolled through me. My knees buckled but I locked them in place as the next shot rang out. Norris flashed before me as I stumbled forward.

“Clara.” I managed the order before I fell. No other words were necessary.

Two more cracks split the air, followed by one last ominous pop. I crumpled to the floor of the cathedral, my eyes trained on the vast, arching ceiling. And then she was there. I wanted to soothe her, to erase the fear marring her beautiful face. Her arms scooped under me, cradling me. The warmth of her drowned out the panicked crowd even as a coldness seeped through my blood.

“Alexander!”

I could hear the plea in her voice, and I watched in horror as crimson soaked across white silk. My fingers fumbled for her, needing to draw her close, needing to know she was safe. Her hand caught mine. She didn’t let go until they pulled her away. Without the balm of her touch, I faded into night on a Friday morning.

B
arricaded in a waiting room, I paced the floor, train thrown over my arm, as I tried to ignore the muddy red stains covering my wedding dress. No one was telling me anything. No one was allowed in. I was certain if I stopped circling the room, I would go crazy. I couldn’t process the events of the last few hours. If I allowed myself to stop and focus on even the smallest detail, it tore through me. Daniel hadn’t injured me, but I was bleeding internally, my own mind slowly killing me, as Alexander bled on a surgical table somewhere down the hall.

My stomach roiled at the thought and I caught myself against the wall.

“Wake up,” I whispered, my small voice carrying over the empty space. This was a nightmare. None of it was real.

But I’d felt the slippery heat of his blood on my hands in the cathedral. I’d felt his hand slip from mine as medics lifted him onto a stretcher. I’d heard the wail of sirens.

If this was a dream, it had been hewn from the darkest fears I kept locked inside me.

The door clicked open and Belle peeked in. I broke down at the sight of her in a t-shirt and jeans, no longer in her bridesmaid’s dress. The helpless look on her face assured me that this was real. Alexander was dying somewhere in this hospital, and I was dying with him. All of my manic energy deserted me as I sank into a crumpled mess of silk and tulle on the tile floor. I wanted to cry and scream. I wanted to rip off the silk and lace that reminded me of everything I’d lost today.

Of what I still had to lose.

Belle dropped to her knees, abandoning her bag to wrap her arms around me. I didn’t resist her as she pulled me closer. But her presence didn’t make it okay. It didn’t take away the stabbing agony in my chest. It didn’t fill the pit at my core. It opened me to the pain. The tears frozen in my throat thawed, clawing free in wrenching sobs. We didn’t speak for a long time. I let her hold me until the sobs wracking my body calmed into ragged breathing punctuated with gasps.

“I brought you a change of clothes,” she whispered, stroking my hair soothingly.

“I feel like I’m being held prisoner. No one’s telling me anything. No one will let me see him. I’m going crazy,” I rambled on. It was the smallest of comforts to no longer be talking to myself. “Where is everyone? Where’s my family?”

“Being interrogated.” Her voice was quiet as if she anticipated my reaction. Her hand found mine and grasped it tightly. “Edward is in emergency meetings. He managed to send me a text message, but I haven’t heard anything since.”

“My family is being questioned?” I asked in disbelief.

“Everyone is being questioned.”

“This is ridiculous! It was Daniel. Everyone saw him!” I pulled away from her.

“Daniel is dead. I know that much.”

Relief swelled, cresting for a brief moment, before crashing away again. He was dead. I thought I hadn’t wanted it. After today—after he tried to take Alexander away—I no longer granted him sanctuary in my thoughts. I could only hope he’d been dragged to hell.

“Clara.” Belle’s voice dropped again. I shook myself from the haze of my thoughts and looked to her. Bad news was written across her face, telling me what she couldn’t bear to say.

The world grew black at the edges as my vision swam. I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to ward off the dizziness. “No!” I shouted, stopping her as she opened her mouth to continue. “No! I don’t…I can’t…”

Belle’s hand shot out and caught mine. “Clara, you need to hear—”

“No!” The scream exploded from deep within me, liberating all the fear I’d kept carefully compartmentalized since my arrival at St. Thomas’s hospital. I wrenched away from her and tried to stand but the blood pounding through me grew louder and louder until darkness overtook me.

My arm throbbed. The hum of fluorescent lights grew louder. I blinked, my eyes meeting unfamiliar walls. Reaching over, I fumbled with plastic tubing as I tried to figure out where I was. Unwanted memories flashed in my head. Blurry. Jagged. A nurse swam into view as bile rose in my throat. She rushed forward as I covered my mouth with my hand, producing a small, plastic bucket with the ease of someone with years of experience. She held it in place as I wretched, emptying my stomach of the little food I’d eaten earlier this morning.

This morning. It felt like a lifetime ago. In so many ways, it was.

She hovered near me until I waved her away. Falling back against the hospital bed, I managed one word. “Water.”

“Slowly,” she advised as she helped me take a sip. “Give your stomach a moment to settle.”

“It was just…” I struggled to find a way to explain that I wasn’t ill. Not really. “I’d forgotten and when I woke up, it all came flooding back.”

“That’s common with traumatic experiences.” She patted my hand with one hand as she adjusted a monitor with the other. “Of course, it could also be…”

She trailed away, giving me a knowing look as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. A hint of a smile played on her lips. Any warm feeling I had toward her vanished. My whole life had been destroyed. Every plan I’d had for the future gone in one violent minute. Another memory flashed through my mind: Belle’s face right before I blacked out. I grabbed for the bucket again, my body rejecting the water. But when that was out, I continued to heave, convulsions wracking my body. Any moment now I’d be forced to hear what she’s tried to tell me.

“Shhhh, everything’s going to be okay. The doctor will be here in a moment to answer your questions,” the nurse said in a kind voice, which made me hate her even more.

I didn’t have any questions, and she was wrong. Nothing was going to be fine. Not anymore. I had nothing. Nothing to ask. Nothing to know. Nothing to live for.

I laid back and stared at the white ceiling overhead. Did they paint hospital rooms in such sterile colors so patients would have one less thing to process? White walls and sleek silver instruments—a blank palette. It seemed like the wrong choice. My world had already been stripped of color. Of meaning. Being here only reminded me of that.

Heavy footsteps informed me we’d been joined by someone. The doctor. Someone else. I didn’t care.

“Miss Bishop,” a deep voice greeted me absently.

Hearing my own name stole my breath. I wasn’t supposed to be Miss Bishop. Everything had changed, but that hadn’t.

He continued when I didn’t respond. “I want to assure you that your privacy during this time is of the utmost importance to us. Our entire staff has been reminded of our confidentiality policies.”

“Can I see him?” I spoke in a voice so small that I didn’t recognize it. Could I really handle seeing Alexander’s body? My eyes shut involuntarily as I wished I hadn’t been so adamant about him not seeing me on the day of our wedding. Now I’d never feel his hands on my body again, never feel his skin warm on mine. He’d given his life to save me, but without him I had no desire to live.

“Nurse Taylor will remove your IV in a moment.”

“Why do I have an IV at all?” I asked. I was alive. My heart was beating—even if I wished it wasn’t.

“Given the events of the day and your condition—”

“My condition isn’t an issue,” I cut him off. “I don’t know who you spoke to, but my eating disorder is under control. The fluids aren’t necessary.”

A concerned look came over Dr. Andrews’ face, and his eyes flickered to meet the nurse’s. Gesturing for the chart, he scanned through its contents without another word. Meanwhile panic snowballed in my chest. I needed to see Alexander. I needed to have a final moment alone with him.

“Please,” I whispered. “Just let me see his body. Please let me say goodbye.”

The doctor froze, mid-page flip. “I’m sorry that won’t be possible. The body was removed by the King’s Guard hours ago.”

I had no energy left to scream. None left to cry. A hollow chill seeped through my veins, numbing me entirely. I’d taken the ultimate risk by allowing myself to love a man like Alexander. He burned too bright, soared too high, ran too deeply for this world.

I was always going to lose him.

I just never imagined it would end like this. And it hurt. It hurt worse than any pain I’d ever felt. The agony carved through me and took up residence in my bones. My blood was cold fire in my veins, a stinging reminder that I was here and he wasn’t.

But grief was the price of love, and if I had my choice now, I would pay it again.

“You can see Alexander, of course,” Doctor Andrews continued. “He isn’t awake from surgery, but the operation went well. He’s in stable condition. Not completely out of the woods, but his prognosis is quite strong.”

My mouth fell open and I shook my head, fresh tears pricking at my eyes. Warmth flooded through me. Life flooded through me. “W…w…wait. Alexander is alive?”

“Yes.” Doctor Andrews looked as confused as I felt. “I assumed you had been told.”

“You said his body had been removed.” My finger shook as I pointed it at him.

Doctor Andrews sat on the edge of my bed and took a deep breath. “Not everyone made it. The King is dead.”

Guilt mixed with my relief. Tears fell freely down my cheeks as I realized that Albert had given his life for his son’s. A final sacrifice that muddied everything I thought I knew about him—everything Alexander believed to be true. When Alexander finally woke up, he’d have to confront that, and I needed to be by his side.

“I need to see him.” I tore at the tape holding the IV in my arm, and Nurse Taylor rushed to stop me.

“We’ll arrange for someone to take you there.” A vein tensed in Dr. Andrews’ jaw. “But before that I have to ask. Miss Bishop, are you aware that you’re pregnant?”