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I said nothing.
I could not even breathe.
It was only when she marched past me that I took air in again, lifting my eyes to keep the tears from falling. But I could feel myself losing that battle quickly. I tried to escape the openness of the hall, the view of the cameras. I kept walking until I made it to my room, slamming the door behind me and falling back against it. My throat was on fire. I tried to calm myself, but air came in short, deep gasps as I slid onto the floor. I covered my face in shame because she was right.
Arthur deserved a much better brother than me.
I was selfish, and I never did help him.
Not once.
In fact, I tried to give him more to do. The small responsibilities I had, I’d neglected, and he would cover up and do them for me.
Now, I was in his shoes, the Adelaar, barely able to keep my neck up, wondering how the hell he managed to do this.
And who the hell was I for even trying?
If I could trade my life for his, I would, for the sake of the country, the House of Monterey, and for him. I would have happily taken his place in that.
It was better than everyone knowing the wrong prince had died.
Her yells were loud enough that we had all heard them—Elspeth, Eliza, the doormen, the butlers, and me. I guess that was one of the downsides to the centuries-old palaces; voices echoed, especially when empty at night.
All of them hung their heads, all on the verge of tears. Yes, even the butlers’ eyes were glazed over. I was not sure if it was because they loved Arthur, too, or if it was because Sophia’s pain was so heavy and raw, it tore at their hearts. I had only had one conversation with Arthur. I did not know him beyond Gale’s stories and memories of him. But even my eyes ached, and I felt shame. I was not trying to trample over her grief or their mourning. I was just trying to...I don’t know, get them to like me? Be happy? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was if I felt this bad, then Gale must have been in hell. The memory of him in the airport came to mind, the sound of him wailing in my arms, begging me to tell him it was not real. But it was. And he came back to others mourning—his mother, his sister, his ill father who was searching for Gale’s brother. He was forced to take over, to manage this. How could any twenty-eight-year-old do that? No wonder he never thought to call me. Did he even have time to think?
The more I realized and came to understand what the last six months had been like for him, the more I wished I had come sooner so he wouldn’t have been alone. Rising from the bench, I turned to Elspeth, who still sat frozen in place, staring at one spot on the carpet.
“Your Majesty, I should—”
“Going to him now is only going to make him feel worse,” she whispered, her eyes still glazed over. “If you truly want to help him, remember our conversation.”
Follow the rules.
Do not be a burden.
Even still, I wanted to go to him. But I did not want to go against her, either. It seemed like everything was going to be complicated here.
“I understand,” I managed to get out.
She nodded, rising from her seat.
Eliza got up, hugging the dog to her chest for dear life, and followed her mother out, not saying a word, either.
“Please show Miss Wyntor back to her room,” was the last thing Elspeth said, speaking to the butler before she left.
Alone, I sat back on the piano bench, looking at my hands and to the ring I wore now, remembering the poem I was sure Gale had written. One moment, it felt like we were screaming, “I love you,” and then the next minute, everyone was hurting in different corners of the palace.
So much happened in a minute, no matter where you were in the world.
I guess that was why we had to treasure them so much.
