Page 102 of Broken Crown

She gives me a small smile, then rejoins Marius, resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes once more as they try to get some sleep.It means so much that they’re still here, even after I told them to go home.They said as long as I stayed, they would, too.That’s the type of friends they are.Always supporting me in my moment of need, no matter what.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I slip out of the waiting room, thankful for the brief reprieve.

While there’s nowhere else I want to be right now, I hate feeling like I’m under a microscope, everyone in that room analyzing everything I say or do.

I just want to be alone to process what happened tonight.

Or, more accurately, last night.

I’m about to turn down the corridor toward the ladies’ room, but slow my steps when my eyes fall on the closed doors of the chapel.I’ve never been one to pray, even when forced to attend services with my family on all the important holidays.

But if there were ever a time to start, this is it.

I open the heavy doors, a thick silence hovering in the air.A few rows of cushioned pews fill the dimly lit space, a cross set against stained glass on the far wall.I start toward one of the pews, but pause when I notice a table with tiers of candles in red votives, some lit, most not.

I quietly pad toward it and grab a long match, lifting it to one of the flames.Then I light a candle for my uncle.For my aunt.For each of my cousins.For my mum.For Adam.For Callie.For Jack.For Lieutenant Williams.

And for Archie.

With each candle I light, the tears falling from my eyes grow heavier, the anger over how many lives have been lost increasing.My heart twists with hatred, muscles tightening with rage and frustration.I want to scream.Want to shout.Want to do something to correct these wrongs.But nothing will bring any of these people back.

And I hate it.Hate that so many people have died, all because of my grandfather.

“Oh, sweetie,” a soft voice says in the seconds before a pair of arms wrap around me in a comforting embrace.

I don’t resist them, allowing them to hold me and comfort me in a way no one has in years.

“He’ll be okay.”

I pull my head up, meeting Creed’s mother’s eyes, her own awash with fear, worry, and a myriad of other emotions.But through it all, there’s hope.And it’s that hope that causes my heart to shatter even more.

“How do you know?”I choke out through the boulder in my throat.“How do you know I won’t be back here in a few hours, lighting another candle?”I gesture at all the flames I just lit, the sheer number sickening and tragic.

She runs her hands down my arms.“I don’t know.”Her voice trembles, tears filling her eyes.Regardless, her resolve remains strong.“Only He or She does.”She glances at the cross.

“How do you do it?”I ask, the words leaving me before I can stop them.“How have you stayed so put-together, watched your husband and son continue to risk their lives every day, even after losing Adam?”

She squeezes my arms.“Because I believe in what they’re doing.”

I look toward the candles, every one representing someone who lost their lives because of the monarchy, apart from my mum.“I’m not sure I do.”I shift my gaze back to hers.“Not anymore.I—”

The sound of the door opening cuts through, and we both look toward it as a man in scrubs steps inside, a face mask dangling from one ear and a cap covering most of his salt-and-pepper hair.

“My apologies, Your Highness.”He bows toward me, then looks at Mrs.Lawson.“Ma’am.My name is Dr.O’Neal.I’m the lead surgeon who operated on your son.I was told I could find you here.If you’d like to step outside, I can give you an update.”

Mrs.Lawson squeezes my hand, and we follow the doctor out of the chapel.

“How is he?”she asks immediately.

The doctor looks my way, obviously hesitant to say anything in front of me since I’m not technically family.

“It’s okay,” Mrs.Lawson assures him, voice trembling slightly.“Whatever you’re about to tell me, I plan on sharing with Her Highness anyway, so you may as well save me the trouble.”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

My pulse speeds up, the seconds seeming to tick by in a slow march.Dr.O’Neal licks his lips, delaying his news even more.I study every inch of him, looking for a clue as to the outcome of Creed’s surgery.

Praying it’s not what I fear it is.

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