Chapter 4

RAYANA

I whisked my head to the side and glared at the monster who was sitting at my right, looking so unaffected by the series of nonsense he just spewed.

Inheriting the archduchy was all that he thought about.

My blood roared in my veins, and venom threatened to choke me dead. I bit my tongue and swallowed the poison that was ready to pour off my tongue, then decided to glare out the window at the passing scenery.

He was right, to some extent. Our lives, unlike theirs, were a long political charade, always open and exposed to the eyes of the public. And vultures and thieves were hiding in the shadows waiting for a moment of weakness, just a tiny lapse in judgment and they would latch on everything that had the archduchy name on it.

I released a shaky breath and pinched my eyes shut.

And in that moment, I wished I was born ordinary. At least I could mourn my father’s death without having to worry about being mocked for grieving my dad.

“I understand it is hard for you, brother. But Charles, Chloe, and I are not in the line of inheritance. So a bit of empathy goes a long way.” I made sure to keep my voice low and unshaking. My brother had to know that not all of us were unfeeling sons of bitches who only cared about what the public thought of them.

He scoffed in his seat and busied himself with his phone. And I was fucking grateful for the small graces because if he so much as made another snarky remark, it would be him paraded in the coffin in front of a thousand citizens.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

Even in his cold, stone heart, James could feel that the moment was a sacred one, and he offered me the silence I desperately needed.

We arrived at Windsor Castle, and in no time, we were all gathered in the ballroom for a small quick prayer.

With James’s hand on my small back, he guided me to the front of the ballroom, right in front of my dad’s coffin. Aunt Bell had Mom cocooned in a tight hug as the bishop went about the prayers. I just stood there with my mind wondering about the series of today’s events. But amidst it all, great pain lasered my inside, with disbelief cutting deep into my chest.

A part of me, a very small part of me, was at ease that my father was finally out of pain. But a much larger chunk of me had questions. Questions that lurked in my mind, wreaking havoc and denying me of a single moment of peace.

Questions I would never find answers to.

“God, our shelter and our strength, You listen in love to the cry of Your people; hear the prayers we offer for our departed brothers and sisters. Cleanse them of their sins and grant them the fullness of redemption. We ask this through Christ our Lord:,”

The whole ballroom sang “Amen”.

The priest then let down his hands and closed the undoubtedly heavy book he had on the small pulpit, then cast a questioning look at our side.

We were all in the process of taking out seats when James decided it was a good idea to climb up the raised deck and address the audience. He commanded the air of confidence and oozed arrogance by just standing there and watching people he would soon be the lord of.

I sawed my bottom lip between my teeth, dreading the nonsense that was about to fall off his lips.

“The Elizabeth Tower has fallen, and he shall be laid to rest right here at his home, with his parents, Charles Mountbatten and Elizabeth Mountbatten. The service will commence at 9 in the morning. In these tough times, we thank you all for your unwavering support, and for letting the family mourn the loss of our father in silence. As the next Archduke of Fairefax-…” And there it was!

“-I promise to follow in the footsteps of my father, for he was a great lord of this land. I will do everything in my right to honor his legacy and be the lord this lands deserve. My father was a righteous man…”

Heaviness pulled at me from the inside, and every so silently, I got up from where I was seated.

The walk to the double doors that sat at the farthest end of the hall seemed to be so out of reach and I could feel James’s seething glare boring heated holes in my back. But I didn’t care. I was fed up with his hypocrisy and the good-son act! With all the eyes on me, and the unmistakable clicking of my heels on the ceramic floor that echoed around the vastness of the ballroom- all of that misery was nothing compared to the epiphany of my hypocritical brother who failed to read the room.

The Royal guards pulled the doors open and I was out.

My lungs expanded as I took a giant breath, my knees weakening as I tried to ground myself.

All of this still felt like a dream! I was just existing through all of the events, my mind slowly dragging behind everything.

It was D-Day + 9 of Operation Elizabeth Tower, nine days after my dad’s passing. And none of everything that had happened seemed to make sense. Through the mental battle of grief and seeking clarity, my brother had to win the A-hole of the Year trophy!