Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
She straightens up, staring at the dark wood a moment longer, and then she nods.
“All right, then.”
She turns away, wiping her face.
“Winston.”
He appears at her side, holding a large black umbrella above her head as she dabs her face with a handkerchief.
“Come along, boys,” she says to me and Henry. “It’s truly late now—time for bed or breakfast, I don’t know which.”
Her voice has returned to its crisp, no-nonsense intonation. Her shoulders are straight, her chin is high, and her eyes are sharp.
And there’s a reassurance in that. A warm, soothing comfort.
Because the mountains might fall and the seas turn to dust, but Queen Lenora of Wessco will remain . . . outlasting every bloody one of us.
I take the umbrella from Winston, holding it over us, as my grandmother slides her arm through Henry’s.
“It’s just the three of us now. But we’re going to be all right. I’ll make sure of it.”
We walk out the graveyard’s gates and into the palace, together.
(Royally Screwed, Chapter 9)
“She’s almost eighty years old and the only person she’s ever been able to talk to is my grandfather. He’s been gone a decade . . . and he’s still the only person she can talk to.”
~Prince Nicholas, Royally Screwed
Edward
“I WANT TO KNOW WHO this girl is, Winston, and her family. You are to conduct a thorough investigation, overturn every stone.”
Winston nods, eyes sharp and eager for the task ahead.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll begin straight away.”
She dismisses him with a nod. He bows and leaves, closing the door to the royal office.
And I watch her for a moment from across the room, arms folded, leaning back against the wall. Soaking up the sight of her the way I always did. The Queen in her element is a fascinating sight to behold.
Then I speak, making my presence known.
“What are you up to, Lenny?”
Her eyes dart to me—without shock or unease.
“I thought that would be obvious, Edward.”
I came to her here, in her office, the day after they laid me in the ground. We spoke to each other as we always had—with intimate confidence and teasing tones. Lenora accepted my presence just as I accepted it.
Because some things aren’t meant to be understood . . . some things simply are.
“Explain it to me anyway.”
I look exactly as I did in my prime—broad shoulders, golden hair without a strand of gray, a shadow of stubble on my jaw that Lenny always found irresistible, charcoal trousers and a perpetually crisp white shirt. And while I recognize that Lenora has aged, she is as beautiful to me as the first day I saw her—a stunning, silver-eyed girl riding recklessly through the woods.
“This Olivia Hammond that Nicholas brought home like a stray, and seems intent on keeping for the summer, needs to be looked into.”
No one else can see or hear me; they don’t need to. It is in death as it was in life—I am here for her and her alone.
“To what end, love?”
“To the end of protecting him, of course. I won’t allow her to play him for a fool.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
“You can lie to Winston and the others—hell, you can even lie to yourself if it makes you feel better—but you can’t lie to me. Are you investigating the girl for Nicholas’s benefit or your own? So you can have a handy stack of ammunition to break them apart should the need arise?”
“Two birds, one stone,” she sniffs, lifting one delicate shoulder.
“Didn’t you see how he looked at her, Lenora?” I ask softly.
And my wife’s voice goes light for a moment, with the same memories as my own.
“Yes, I saw.”
“It was Thomas and Calista all over again.”
A smile pulls at my lips, remembering the day our son first brought home the girl who would become his wife. The wonderful mother of his children. How he gazed at her so proudly, protectively . . . adoringly.
Just as Nicholas gazed at the dark-haired beauty this evening.
“No.” Lenora shakes her head, snapping out of her reverie. “It’s not like Thomas and Calista at all. She’s a commoner, Edward. A waitress.”
“When did you become such a snob?”
“The day I was born.” Lenora stands, looking at me pointedly. “She’s American, Edward. Unfit according to the law.”
I chuckle. “The boy’s already gone for her. The law be damned.”
She shuffles papers on her desk, denying the truth she already knows. “That would be disastrous.”
“Now you’re just being stubborn. And silly. She’s beautiful, hardworking, salt of the earth. And most importantly, she’s as deeply taken with him as he is with her. With him, Lenora—with who he is, not what he is. She doesn’t give a shit about his title.”
“And therein lies the disaster,” she shoots back. “She’ll never understand him. She will never comprehend the burdens that rest on his shoulders. She’s not capable of supporting him the way he’ll need.” Lenora moves around her desk, standing before me, her features softening. “Not like you. Like us. You knew just what I needed before I even did. You were my rock and my refuge. And I want that for him, Edward. He’ll need it—you know he will.”