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“Well, that’s ostentatious,” Lilah says, getting out of the car. She’s right, it is. In fact, the sprawling palace can only be described as European fairy-tales come grandiose royalty. It’s vast. Long white wing ends sit opposite us, a huge courtyard in the middle leading to the main entrance that I can barely see in the distance. Family crests line the ornate roofs and turrets, all of them proving how much money lives inside. As do the seven black uniformed guards that stand on parade in front of us, axes crossed as if no one should pass the gates. It's like bloody Versailles. “You grew up here?” she asks. Pascal nods and leans back on some railings, glaring at the place we’re parked over the road from.
“It is repulsive, no?”
“Well, it’s …”
“Where is my cane?” he snaps. I instantly hand it over, my own back leaning next to him, Alex next to me. “This is intolerable.”
“What is?” I ask
“All this,” he snaps again, waving his hand about and then pushing off the railings. “Why would they do such a thing?”
“Perhaps there were reasons that ...”
“Because your mother was a bitch. And you were a deviant. What did you expect?” Lilah cuts in. “You hit her. Topped her. Hilarious when you think about it.” Both Alex and I look at her and then Pascal.
“You did?” Alex asks. “You’ve never told me that.” Pascal snarls.
“You barely deserve my truths most of the time, Alexander,” he says, walking across the road without bothering to look for traffic. Lilah follows. “Come.” That’s snapped. Apparently he’s in imperial mode. But we do both follow, intrigue making me smile at whatever’s about to happen.
“I’ve never been in a palace,” Alex muses. Me either.
“Did you know about this place?” He nods and looks at me, a smile on his face. “I thought I knew everything about him. Apparently not.” Wow.
“You look beautiful today.” I look down at my jeans, t shirt and suede jacket, none of which look anywhere near beautiful enough to be entering palaces, and frown. “And will not falter in the presence of anyone Elizabeth. Youarebeautiful.” I still hate him.
“Stop being nice. I don’t like you.” He smirks and puts his hands in his own jeans pockets, looking at Pascal’s back the entire time. “You think he’s okay?” Alex stares some more, head tilted a little and a long breath easing out.
“I think he’s angry. Just like you.” My chin lifts. “And I think he’s about to cause trouble. Perhaps you should, too.” What does that mean? “You have every right to do as you please.”
I stop as we hit the other side pavement, wondering what I’m supposed to do with that statement, and look at him. He smiles. A real smile. One I haven’t seen for so long. It makes my bloody knees weaken, memories of happiness filtering in from those eyes to obliterate the sadness inside. His hand reaches my face, fingertips brushing my cheekbone. “We can try again if you want.”
Arse.
Feet stamp behind me, lots of noise caused by whatever it is. I turn, watching as seven guards form an orderly alignment and then proceed to surround Pascal, axes still bared and crossed to cage him. My eyes widen. Prisoner?
“What ...”
“Looks like they know who's come home,” Alex says, chuckling.
Wow. Just seeing this makes the whole thing seem so real. He really is royalty, and his look of utter composure just amplifies that as he reaches for Lilah’s arm. Thank god she’s at least dressed for the occasion, unlike myself.
“I should have changed,” I mutter, as the gates begin swinging inwards. “We’re at a bloody palace and I’m in jeans and a t shirt. Ridiculous.”
“He’s the most powerful man here, and invited you looking just the way you do,” Alex says, moving us forward. “I would assume that means you’re acceptable in any clothes, or out of them.” Two axes fall in front of our faces, Alex’s hand pushing me back the moment it happens. He coughs, loudly, causing Pascal to turn and snap something in that language I don’t understand. Axes lift again.
“Rather rude,” I say, glaring at one of the guards who proceeds to flank us.
“This authority hasn’t changed anything,” Alex calls up to him, as we walk through the main gates.
There’s the slightest smile from Pascal before he looks forward again. No one else would ever see it, but we all do. It's a private smile, one only we would know, and I can't help my returning grin. All this wealth. All this power. And yet when it’s just the four of us again it will mean nothing to the order of things. Not that that’s happening again. Ever. Actually, what does all this mean for him? I look at Alex, annoyed that I have to, but pretty sure he’ll have some answers. He’s chuckling at the surrounding guards that walk next to us, axes now swinging as if we’re on some ceremonial wander.
“If this is all his, what does that mean for him? I mean, he can’t carry on being who he is if he has to run all this, can he?” That would be odd. One can’t be a kink founder and ruler of a country. Having said that, it is Pascal we’re discussing.
“I don’t know,” Alex says, reaching for my hand and linking his fingers through mine. I wish I could say I snatch it away, but I don’t. Something feels necessary about it here, regardless of what’s happening between us, a show of strength against all this maybe. “But it will end as he wants it to.”
I watch him as he says that, feeling the tension in his hand. He’s worried, and not just about me, but about the man in front of us. I frown at the thought of it, wondering the same thing. What does this mean for all of us? If there is even an all of us anymore.
