Page 28 of Learning to Rule

“Probably worse than normal.”

“It’s nine in the morning?” I spit out.

“I thought I better let you know she won’t be able to walk with you behind the coffin. Should I arrange a car to take her to the cathedral.”

“No.”

Pushing past Hinchbootie, I make my way into the hallway of the palace entrance where my mother stands with several members of staff around her. She’s dressed in black, head to toe, with a veil over her face. She’s crying, and I can hear the wails echoing around the cavernous room. I don’t believe for even one minute that the cries are real. She’s too pissed out of her head to be feeling anything remotely like grief. She’s swaying and stumbles whenever she tries to walk.

“Enough,” I shout at the top of my voice.

Everyone seems to jump, excluding my mother who continues wailing like a banshee while the staff either bow or curtsy.

“Please leave us. Hinchbootie, stay,” I instruct, and everyone, except my personal secretary and my mother, scrambles out of the room. In two long strides, I’m in front of my mother and dragging her to a chair to sit down. She stinks of alcohol. It’s disgusting and turns my stomach.

“How could you do this? I know you and my father hated each other but to show your true colors to everyone today of all days. It disgusts me.” I’ve grabbed hold of my mother’s blouse.

“Your Majesty.” Hinchbootie places his hand on top of mine as I realize I’m scaring my mother.

I let her go and step back, pulling my hand through my hair in frustration.

“I don’t think any amount of coffee will sober my mother up. Even drowning her in a vat of the fucking stuff. She can’t attend the funeral.”

“Dalton, no,” my mother cries out loudly again. “I have to…my Frederick…”

“Shut-up, you hated the man. He’s the reason you’re in the mess you are.” I lower my head into my hands and rub my forehead as I try to think what I should do.

“But standards,” my mother slurs. “I have to go…what will people think if I’m not there.”

“No,” I snap back. “Hinchbootie, you’ll release a statement saying the dowager queen will be unable to attend the funeral today. She has taken ill with the stress of my father’s assassination. I will lead the vigil behind the coffin alone. Everyone else will be at the cathedral waiting to receive him.”

“That’s not how things are done.” My mother tries to get to her feet to tell me off, but she stumbles and clumsily falls back down onto the chair.

“You know what, Mother, I don’t care how things are done. The only good thing to come out of this is that I’m now the king, and I’ll make as many changes to my father’s antiquated rules as I see fit. I’ll walk behind his coffin and mourn him, but you know what, I don’t give a fuck he’s dead. In fact, I feel like throwing a party not a wake. He was a horrible man who only cared for himself, just like you.”

“Dalton, how can you…”

I hold my hand up abruptly to silence my mother. I want nothing more to do with her. Not unless she changes dramatically and sobers up.

“Enough! Hinchbootie, you will arrange for my mother to move permanently to the small house my grandmother lived in after her husband’s death. Some time away at the lakes will hopefully clear her mind and allow her to recognize what sort of person she has become. I don’t give her permission to return to this palace until I’m satisfied she’s sober and, more importantly, sorry.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” He bows his head at me to indicate my instructions will be carried out without any question.

“And another thing, Hinchbootie, you’re the person who’s effectively been at my side since birth. You’re like a father to me, the one I never had.” I turn and look at him. “A father does not address his son formally, he addresses him fondly. From this day forward, I give you leave to call me by my proper name, no matter what. I don’t care what tradition states. You know my name—use it.”

Hinchbootie gulps, and I see his eyes start to water with tears of affection for me. “Thank you, Your…Dalton. I’ll see to it at once.”

I turn on my heels without glancing at my mother and make my way back out to my father’s coffin. At this precise moment, I don’t hold out much hope my mother will ever change her ways, so I doubt I’ll ever see her again. It doesn’t sadden me, though. It actually feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

After today, after I bury my father, I don’t have to worry about either of the two people who gave me so much misery throughout my life. The two people who should have loved me unconditionally but never offered me a kind word. I was nothing more than an heir to them—the future of their great dynasty. I see my future differently, and I’ll do everything in my power not to be like the man whose coffin I’m about to walk behind through the streets.

The clock of the palace chimes out ten in the morning. Time to start the funeral procession. The guardsmen of the household cavalry assemble around me and the coffin on the carriage. With a nod from me, we start walking. We pass through the palace gates and out into the streets. Yesterday there was cheering and merriment, bright colors adorning the flag poles, and people were excited to see us. Today there’s only silence. Some people are here to mourn the king’s passing but most just want to ensure King Frederick is dead.I don’t blame them.

You could hear a pin drop as we march through the streets to the cathedral, a distance of a mile, where the service will be held.

I walk, but I don’t think about my father. I have no fond memories of him to reminisce about. All I think about is Elodie. I tried to phone her last night, but it went straight to voicemail. I needed to hear her voice. I don’t even know if she has heard what has happened.

I miss her so much.

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