Asher nodded—he’d been expecting this.
“I mean it, Ash,” Jesse said with hard eyes. “No slipping out of the palace. No giving me the shift. I don’t want to scare you more than necessary, but you were the closest to Noah and that could mean you’re the next target. You don’t eat or drink anything unless I give it to you. You don’t close your eyes unless I’m standing next to you. Understood?”
“Yes,” Asher said.
Jesse nodded. “The funeral has been arranged to take place in two days’ time. Your father has asked if you’d like to speak. ”
Asher cringed at the thought. How would he hold it together?
“It will be a traditional royal funeral,” Jesse added.
In Santinian culture, royals had always been farewelled publicly. Because they served the people, and were supposedly loved by the people, it was deemed fair that the people would have an opportunity to say goodbye. The thought of the day filled Asher with dread, but he was glad his father was honoring Noah with a traditional royal funeral.
“What is being said to the press?” Asher asked. He hadn’t turned on a computer or television all morning.
“That he died from complications from his fall. No other details will be given,” Jesse said. “The front gates of the palace are heaped with flowers.”
Asher smiled, not surprised. “I’ll speak,” he said, wondering where he was going to find the strength. “I want Santina to remember him the way I do.”
Jesse nodded. “In the village where I grew up, there is a belief that when someone passes, they stay with us for a few months—like an invisible soul next to us. They are supposed to help us through our grief, and let us know we’re not alone.”
Jesse rarely shared anything personal, so Asher didn’t quite know how to respond. “Where did you grow up?” he eventually asked.
“In a small village in Adani,” he said with a faint smile.
“I never knew that,” Asher said with a hint of amazement. He’d always assumed Jesse had been born and raised in Santina.
Jesse nodded. “Your father and I were friends for many years before I began working for him, Asher. In some ways, we were like you and Noah—a royal kid and a kid from the wrong side of the tracks.”
Asher frowned. “You and my father are old friends? No way,” he said. His father had always trusted Jesse, true, but Asher had never seen displays of friendship between them.
Jesse smiled. “Your father is very different now than he was twenty years ago. He distances himself from people as a way to cope. I know you know this. I understand and respect it because his job is not an easy one, but I don’t believe there’s ever been a better king for Santina.”
“I may be biased, but I agree,” Asher said as his phone rang. Abi’s name flashed up, and Asher didn’t miss the look in Jesse’s eyes.
“Do you have a problem with Abi?” Asher asked, letting the call ring out.
“I have a problem with people I don’t trust,” Jesse said, his face impassive.
“What does that mean?” Asher asked.
“It means none of her aliases link back to an actual person, and Abigail Mackenzie is not her real name. It means she’s gone to a lot of trouble to hide her true identity,” Jesse said with raised eyebrows.
“She says she’s a kidnapping risk if people know who she really is,” Asher said. “Do you think that’s a fair justification?” He felt defensive for Abi, but he knew Jesse had every right to be suspicious. It was his obligation as head of security—especially considering the circumstances.
“Sure,” Jesse said without pause, “but she could be involved in this. Everyone close to you and Noah is being investigated. Everyone.” Jesse knew Asher well enough to know this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have.
“We’ll see,” Asher said, his eyes growing tired.
“Get some sleep,” Jesse said.
“It’s three in the afternoon,” Asher responded, raising his eyebrows.
“And you haven’t slept in days. After the funeral, we’ll be flying out. Your father thinks it will be best for you to be busy and working. He’s brokering appointments for you, for the aid deals.” Jesse regarded him frankly. “I think he’s right, Ash. You can’t sit around the palace where everything is a reminder of Noah. He wouldn’t want that.”
Asher nodded, but he didn’t want to talk anymore. Bed was looking incredibly appealing after all.
“If we’re done, I’m going to take that nap you suggested,” Asher said with a yawn.
Jesse stood, following Asher. Asher closed the bedroom door, glad to be alone. He didn’t hear Jesse’s footsteps retreat, and Asher knew they wouldn’t. Jesse would be by his door until Asher awoke.
Asher
Asher straightened his tie and tucked his notes into his suit pocket. He looked in the mirror, taking a calming breath. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to speak today. He didn’t want to say goodbye.
Asher tipped his head back, fighting his tears. They were starting already, and the funeral hadn’t even begun.
“Asher?” his mother called out.
“Yes,” he said, meeting her in the hallway. Her eyes ran over the length of him, and she gave a nod of approval.
“How are we going to do this?” she asked, her composure cracking.
He exhaled a shaky breath, took her hands, and said, “Together.”
Jesse tilted his head toward the door, and they knew it was time to go. His mother led the way. She wore a black gown with a black diamond tiara. Her long hair flowed past her shoulders, and she looked more regal today than ever. Most days Asher forgot his mother was a queen, but today there was no mistaking it.
His father emerged in a military suit. He, too, looked regal—but Asher had never forgotten he was the king.
Alistair was beside him, clearly refusing to look at Asher.
Asher didn’t care, not today. He would speak to Alistair tomorrow.
They were escorted to the cars, and as the gates opened, Asher was stunned by the mountains of flowers. Jesse had told him people had come to pay their respects, but he underestimated how many.
Cameras flashed and Asher turned his face away. Of all days, today he did not want to be photographed.
As they drove, Jesse gave instructions on their security and protocols to follow. Asher was wearing a bulletproof vest under his suit, which he prayed was a ridiculous precaution. Still, he hoped they were all similarly protected.
Their car pulled up at the front of the church. The King and Queen entered first, followed by Alistair and then Asher, Jesse staying behind him.
Asher thought he’d prepared himself, but as they walked through the church, his legs felt weak. He couldn’t take his eyes off Noah’s coffin; it was the fight of his life to continue forward. Every step was painful, but he stood tall, determined to support his grieving mother. If she could do this, he could too.
They sat in the front row and Asher diverted his gaze to the stained-glass windows of the church. They had never appeared so fascinating.
Before long, Jesse nudged him with his elbow and whispered, “Look ahead.”
Asher turned his head forward, but no matter where his eyes went, he couldn’t escape Noah’s coffin. He knew people were watching him—he felt like an animal in a zoo—and he was so glad when the music began and the priest entered. The congregation stood and the movement of people seemed to thin the air that had been suffocating him moments ago.
He noticed his mother’s balled-up hand, and realized she was holding tissues. He looked at his father, who appeared stoic as ever. How did he do it? Asher didn’t think he’d ever be that strong.
They sat, and Asher listened to the priest, but didn’t actually hear anything that was said. Soon after, the King rose and took to the podium—and now Asher was listening.
“Although not biologically our son, Noah was our son in every other way, and we are heartbroken at his tragic death. On behalf of the Queen and our family,
we thank you for coming today to pay your respects to a man who was loved by all. A man we loved with all our hearts.”
Asher furiously fought back the tears.
Hold it together.
He didn’t want to appear weak, but he didn’t think he could ever be like his father. Asher stole a peek at his mother, who was wiping her wet eyes. Alistair sat with a stoic look on his face. It was clear who each of the sons took after.
The King’s speech was followed by prayers and a blessing.
Then it was Asher’s turn to speak. His hands were shaking.
Do this for Noah.
He forced himself to the lectern, horribly positioned beside Noah’s coffin.
He didn’t think he could do it.
But then he looked over the faces—some familiar and some he’d never seen before—and remembered this wasn’t about him. This was about Noah and sharing their love for him.
Asher cleared his throat and drew in a long, steadying breath.
Abi
Abi and Rachel sat together on Abi’s parent’s couch. Abi thought Rachel should’ve attended the funeral, but she’d said she wanted to grieve in private. Few had known of Rachel and Noah’s relationship, and therefore few would understand her pain, but Abi understood, as did Abi’s mother.
The camera was focused on Asher, and Abi could see the pain in his eyes.
He cleared his throat.
“I wish I could stand here as stoic as my father, but I can’t,” Asher said with a shaking voice. “Noah and I were best friends since childhood. He came to visit one day and refused to go home, so I hid him in the palace. We thought it was hilarious . . . until my mother found out,” Asher said with a hint of a smile.
Another camera angle showed the smiles and wet tears of the attending guests.
“Let me tell you, it did not go down well,” Asher said. “But Noah never ended up going home, because he worked his way into the Queen’s heart and the hearts of the people of Santina. That is clear today, and I thank those of you who have come to pay your respects, as well as those who have visited the palace and left flowers. I think Noah is here with us today, smiling.”
Asher paused, seeming to need a moment to collect himself. “Noah was the happiest person I’ve ever known. He saw every obstacle as an opportunity and never complained about anything. He never made excuses; he lived by example, and he made sure I did those things, too; otherwise you better believe he called me out on it. ‘Oh Prince, how hard your life is,’ Noah would say if I complained about anything,” Asher said with a smile, and the crowd smiled with him.
“He was one of the best things to ever happen to our family . . . and it has been my honor to share our life with him,” Asher said, his voice breaking.
It took Abi a moment to realize her father had entered the room and was standing at the door. Abi eyed him, noting the compassion in his eyes.
When he realized Abi was watching, that compassion vanished.
Abi returned her attention to the television. She hadn’t spoken to Asher since the night Noah died. He hadn’t returned her phone calls, and Abi didn’t know what was going on.
“He should be the next king,” Abi’s mother mused.
All heads snapped in her direction.
“What?” she asked, with a shrug. “Alistair is not fit for the role.”
“Alistair is a screw-up,” William Bennett said less kindly. “But he’s the firstborn.”
“The succession can be changed,” Abi’s mother said.
William was quick to shake his head. “The King will not change it. There’s not a chance—he’s as rigid as they come. Alistair will be the next king.”
Abi looked between her parents and watched her mother carefully. Her lips were pursed—like she was thinking something, but not sure if she should say it.
“Well,” Emma said, “that’s a shame. Asher has the softness of his mother and the strength of his father. He speaks like a leader. He should be King.”
William raised his eyebrows and left the room. Abi’s mother either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Her attention returned to the television, as did Abi’s.
Asher and Alistair moved toward the coffin and stood tall, waiting as the other pallbearers joined them. Asher’s eyes closed ever so briefly, like he was praying for strength. Abi wanted to comfort him, but how could she do that without further complicating their relationship, to say nothing of potentially sabotaging Asher’s involvement in IFRT? She hadn’t heard back from Asher regarding her request for higher level security, and she wasn’t going to broach it now. Abi knew Asher would deal with it when he could.
They carried the coffin out to the hearse. Cameras flashed in their faces and Abi wondered how Asher could see properly. The princes were quickly ushered into awaiting cars, and the royal family departed for a private burial for Noah.
Abi looked to Rachel, noting her red, puffy eyes.
“I’m going for a walk,” Rachel said, excusing herself.
Abi let her go, knowing Rachel wanted to be alone, and her attention returned to her mother.
“I’m surprised Father was watching the funeral,” Abi said.
“He knew Noah,” Emma reminded her.
Abi nodded. Abi had been four when they’d gone on the last family vacation with the royal family. Noah must’ve been about seven, assuming he was the same age as Asher.
“How old was he when he moved into the palace?” Abi asked.
“Five, I think,” Emma said after a moment. “I still remember when that happened. The Queen thought she was going to be arrested for kidnapping the child, but as it turned out, Noah’s mother hadn’t noticed he was missing. Eight days he’d been at the palace and she hadn’t noticed.” Emma shook her head. “After that, the Queen refused to return him. She asked the mother for custodial rights, and of course Noah’s mother demanded a price. The Queen paid it, even though she knew Noah’s mother didn’t deserve it, but she wasn’t going to put him through any more pain. She is a good mother, our queen.”
“Have you contacted her since Noah’s death?” Abi asked.
“No,” her mother replied.
But her mother was a terrible liar.
Abi was asleep when Asher’s call finally came. She answered the phone without looking at the screen.
“Hello,” Abi said with a croaky voice.
“I woke you, I’m sorry,” Asher said. “Shit, I didn’t realize the time. Go back to sleep, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“Asher—”
The call ended. Abi sat up, rubbing her eyes. She dialed Asher’s number.
He took a long time to answer, and she wondered what he was doing.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, it’s fine,” Abi said. “I don’t care what time you call.”
“It’s two in the morning,” he said sheepishly.
“It’s fine,” Abi repeated, sitting up in the darkness. She fumbled for the bedside lamp, eventually turning it on. “I watched the funeral procession today—yesterday. Your speech was beautiful, Asher.”
“I think that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he said, sounding drained. “Noah was the anchor that grounded me in so many ways. I feel lost.”
He was silent for a moment, and Abi wasn’t entirely sure why he’d called. Did he not want to be alone?
“Where are you?” Abi asked.
“Home, in bed,” he said. “Staring at the ceiling.”
Abi’s eyes lifted to her own, plain ceiling. She wondered what Asher’s palatial bedroom looked like. Was the ceiling vaulted? Ornate? There were few pictures of the interior of the royal palace that had ever been released to the media.
Silence separated them, and she wondered if the call had dropped out.
“Abi, what is your surname? And please don’t tell me it’s Mackenzie,” Asher said tiredly.
Abi squeezed her eyes shut and her head hung forward. She couldn’t lie to him, not again. But if she told him, would
he walk away from IFRT?
“Come over and we’ll talk,” she said. She needed to explain herself, and she had a better chance of doing that if she could corner him in her apartment. If she told him over the phone, it would be too easy for him to hang up and not hear her out. She needed to make him understand, so she didn’t jeopardize IFRT.
“You don’t want to tell me over the phone?” Asher asked.
“I don’t know how secure this line is,” she lied. She figured it was a white lie—nothing compared to the lies she’d been harboring. Either way, just one more didn’t matter at this point.
“It’s secure, but I’ll see you soon,” Asher said.
Once he’d hung up, she texted him her address—God only knows what he would think of receiving yet another address.
Along with Rachel, she had fled Patmos the night her home had been ransacked. But she had since upgraded her security, installed new locks and new measures to ensure she was safe. Still, she was on high alert. She wouldn’t be driven out of her home. She wouldn’t live her life in fear. She knew the sooner she returned, the sooner she’d feel comfortable there once more.
It had taken her two days to straighten out the apartment and put everything back in place. The one blessing of the ordeal, she thought wryly, was that her home had never been cleaner or more organized.
She jumped out of bed and dressed in a pair of tights and a knit sweater before brushing her teeth and pulling her hair up into a bun. She didn’t have any makeup on, but she doubted Asher was going to be able to see through his anger to care.
Abi turned the lights and the fireplace on in the living area.
She was undeniably cold but wasn’t sure if it was the temperature of her apartment or the sickening sensation in her stomach that was giving her the chills.
She turned on the television for background noise.
With every minute that passed, Abi braced herself, imagining worst-case scenarios of how things would unfold. When it was all said and done, she wanted him to know she hadn’t told him because she didn’t want to risk losing his involvement in IFRT—and that she cared about him, she really did, and she selfishly didn’t want to lose him. If he could at least understand that, she would be okay. She didn’t want him to hate her.
BLOOD, LOVE AND LIES (THE ROYALS Book 1) Page 13
