Page 8 of The Spy

But he couldn’t miss the funeral. So he was back. He let the light of the sun shine on his face, hoping it would fill his soul. Every breath out was an effort to rid his mind of the memories. Then the car pulled in front of the church and he moved to find his family.

They sat in a row near the front. He saw the line of his brothers’ heads and their wives, and the dark curls of Dahlia, his mother’s frame sitting close to her. She seemed smaller than he remembered. He made a note to spend more time with her, cherish her conversation. Then his eyes moved to the raised dais, and a pair of green eyes glued on him. His body tingled from the awareness of her even as far away as she was. He walked toward her, slowly, measuring his steps as he measured his breaths. And she returned his gaze.

And then the back of a suit passed in front of her lovely face, and a man sat at her side, engaged her in conversation.

Lucan faltered in his steps. Ferdinand? He stopped walking and he frowned.

Her gaze flickered back to his and then stopped, her eyes pained, before she continued conversation with the man at her side.

A Spanish noble. A goofy, silly, fop of a person. Lucan corrected himself. He was kind. And probably smart, but overly present and just waiting there, drooling on Sammy whenever she was near. Of course he had sniggled himself into her inner circle, of course he sat at the front with her.

A quiet, painful thought jabbed at him. If Lucan had come earlier, things would be different. But he could not have come, and now that he knew what he had discovered in Thailand, he knew even more the one to go had to have been him. If he could just stay there a few more weeks, a month even, this one ring of traffickers would all be dismantled. A small drop in the sea of problems, but still significant. If he did nothing because the problems were overwhelming, nothing would ever change.

He began walking again, ignoring the whispers and stares of those around him. His mother smiled when he joined their row. He sat right beside her, put an arm across her shoulders and squeezed her small frame. “Hello mother.” He leaned forward. “Dahlia.”

His sister smirked. “You made it.”

“I did.”

Her eyes showed compassion. His snarky sister noticed everything, and her gaze flitted up to the front and back to him. He just shrugged in response.

The other brothers nodded their welcome. He sat back in his seat and let the music fill him with a sense of calm.

But he ached for Sammy. The thought of all she was bearing made him wish to carry it for her.

His eyes returned to her.

She watched him, unabashedly stared into his soul. And he wished he could read her mind. He wished he could put surveillance on her heart to know what went on there besides the beating of blood through her veins.

But all he saw was her aching expression, her wide green eyes, her lovely, shining, blonde hair, her focus on him between distractions from the overly attentive Ferdinand.

And he wanted to slug Ferdinand.

Trane clenched a fist and pounded one into the palm of his other behind the pack of the pew to their front which made Lucan snort. He hid his smile.

The service began. He watched his brother, Nico, the King of Torren and wondered if he relived his own moments at the funeral of their father, if he was reliving his own coronation soon after.

Then Sammy stood to speak, and Lucan watched her become Princess Anna. She spoke of change and hope and with a great amount of love and respect for her mother. Lucan wanted to stand and cheer when she sat, but instead nodded to her when her eyes sought his.

The funeral ended. Everyone in the great cathedral hall stood as Princess Anna and her father left the room. Then they filed out. His brothers and mother joined the motorcade. They had contributed members of their own national police force, dressed in uniform as a form of respect and support.

And Lucan returned to Thailand.

Chapter 8

Days after the funeral, Anna missed her mother more than she thought it was possible to miss someone. She kept standing up to head to her mother’s quarters, and then sitting back down as she realized the room would be empty.

She kept picking up her phone to dial her mother’s extension only to hear her voice requesting a message on the other line.

Then she got a phone call. Lucan’s mother, former Queen of Torren.

“Anna? Anna, this is Victoria.”

“Hello, how are you?”

“Oh my dear, my deepest condolences, my great love for you. And I know I could never be as lovely and as truly kind as your dear mother, but if you would like to talk to a feminine monarch, please know I am here.”

Anna’s heart swelled with gratitude and at the same time, balked at the intrusion. Lucan’s mother could never ever stand in for her own. She fought the idea at the same time she embraced it. She chided her loyal daughter heart. Victoria wasn’t trying to replace her mother. She was just reaching out. And Anna needed her.

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