“Sir.”
I missed the ball completely, startled by how close he was to me. “Dammit, Iskandar! Did you not see—”
“We need to go,” he interrupted me harshly.
“What?” I stood up straighter.
“We are going now. I will also need your phone,” he said. I was used to the stone-faced, unaffected Iskandar, but something was different. His eyes gave him away. They looked dead, void of anything. Iskandar was a stickler for the rules, but he wasn’t completely dead inside.
“What is wrong?” I asked him.
“You phone, sir,” he repeated sternly.
I noticed Wolfgang taking Odette’s, too. He did not have the same demeanor as before, nor was he able to hide the emotions on his face as well as Iskandar; his freckled face was visibly paler, and he was shaken.
Panic started to work its way up me. “Is it my father?”
“We go need to go, now, sir. So, we are going.”
“You are not answering me!” I snapped at him. “What is going on?”
He looked me dead in the eye and said, “I do not know. I was just given orders to get you to safety, right now. Sir, we need to go.”
I did not know what to say, so I just nodded. I was not sure when he took the cue from my hand or when I started walking, but I did. It was only when Odette grabbed my hand that I notice how hard my heart was beating and also how I was trembling.
“Everything is going to be okay,” she whispered to me, squeezing my arm.
I did not reply because this was not how things went when things were okay. I squeezed her hand back, praying that she, somehow, was right, that being here in America had made things different and that this was only something small. But my mouth was drying, and my chest hurt. When we got into the car, and they rushed into the front seats, the dread became worse.
“Odette...” I whispered, staring outside the window. “I think it’s my father.”
“Gale, let’s not jump to conclusions. Okay?” she whispered back, kissing my knuckles.
Too late.
When my grandfather had passed, all the royals had to be “taken to safety.” It meant we needed to be protected until the line of succession was confirmed.
When was the last time I had even spoken to my father?
Dear God, please no.
Please.
He was pale.
His grip on me was stronger than steel.
Wolfgang looked like someone shot a puppy in his arms.
Iskandar...he looked almost like he always did; however, his jaw was tight, his gaze on the front. He was driving. No, he was speeding. Everything about the situation was terribly wrong, and I wanted to kick Wolfgang for taking my phone. Not knowing, not having the ability to find out, made everything worse. I did not argue because Gale needed more of my attention and support.
I was hoping we would get back to my place quickly, but twenty minutes into the drive, I noticed we were out of the city and on the freeway going toward the airport. And it was then that I was sure something horrible had happened.
When my father had died, I was at a spa. It was the first time I had gone in a year. Two years, maybe. I had put away my phone, and it was only an hour after when I walked out feeling all sparkly and new, that I turned on my phone to see all the messages coming in at once. As I drove, I saw the screens on billboards confirming his death. I heard it over the radio. I was screaming and confused and guilty. By the time I got the hospital, I had begged for them to tell me everyone was lying. Or that there was something wrong with me, and I was just seeing things. But it was true; my father was gone. And I was the last to know.
I guess that was why they had taken our phones, and the radio was off.
“Sir, ma’am, you both need to get out,” Wolfgang said, and it was only then that I noticed we were at the airport, but he was standing outside with the doors open.
The cold air didn’t even seem to faze Gale or me. I tried to let go of his hand to step out, but he wouldn’t let me. So, I hung out the door a bit.
“Gale, you can’t hide from it in here.” I knew he didn’t want to find out the truth. I had been there. But the world always had a way of letting it be known.
He exhaled once before moving, following me out.
Another sign that things were horribly wrong? They just left the car outside the airport.
When we walked inside, they did not give it a second thought, directing us to a section of security by Ersovian Airways.
Another sign something was wrong? A few people behind the counter had their heads down, and some were crying. Gale noticed, too, but before he or I could question anything, we were ushered through the airport again. This time, right through the TSA. No one stopped us; there was no time to. I was sure if they wanted, they could have thrown us onto a plane automatically.
The group around us began to grow from Iskandar and Wolfgang to airport security, to some other men in black. Soon, I couldn’t even see where we were headed. And all the while, no one let us know what was happening.
It felt like hours had gone by before they stopped and allowed us into some private lounge. No one else but a few men—older men, gray-haired, bad-news type of men—were standing inside all waiting. Upon seeing Gale, they stood taller.
“My father? The King...” Gale asked gently. “He is dead?”
They all looked around at each other, and when a man replied, Gale’s head rose, and his face bunched up in confusion. The man spoke and shook his head. God, I would give anything to know what was being said. When he spoke, there was only one word I understood.
“Arthur.”
Gale let go of my hand, shouting something I did not understand.
Chapter 26
“On November 28 at 5:37 a.m. CET, Prince Arthur Fitzwilliam Percival Henry was pronounced dead on the scene at Queen Amasova Airport in Monelrene from injuries he sustained when his aircraft crashed shortly after takeoff, about sixty meters—two hundred feet—from the runway. He survived the initial impact—”
“Stop talking!” This was some sort of mistake. They were wrong. Did they hear what they were saying? How could it be Arthur? “I spoke to my brother just last night! What are you saying? How dare you even joke about this?”
The man took a step closer to me, bowing his head with his hand over his heart. “Adelaar.”
“I said, stop talking! How dare you call me that! There is only one Adelaar, and his name is Prince Arthur, and he is not dead! Iskandar give me my phone!” I demanded, stretching out my hand, but he stood there like he was dumb, deaf, and blind. “I said, give me my fucking phone! I will call him myself! And we will both laugh at how ridiculous you all are! Give me the phone! I said, give me the phone!”
Walking up to Iskandar, I searched in his jacket. My hands shook, or was it my legs or my head? I did not know. I just needed the phone. Grabbing it off him, I dialed. However, there was no line. How could there be no line? The Adelaar always had a line. If it was busy, you would be told.
“Something is wrong with his phone, but believe me, the moment I get a hold of him...” I laughed because this was all crazy. I spoke to him last night. He and I were talking. He was lecturing me as always. Had a full day even gone by?
“Your Highness.”