“We both know who that is, Ms. Tremblay.” She pins me with a glare before returning her attention to the board. “I wasn’t involved in the initial aftermath. Following Ms. Davies’ death, Gabriel wasn’t in a good spot. So my son handled the situation as best he could with as minimal blowback on the royal family as possible.”
“He kept his involvement quiet.”
“Yes. There was a referendum vote that year, as well, much like now. Granted, it didn’t have as much support as it does this year, but still… It was a risk we couldn’t afford. And now we find ourselves in the unique situation where clearing your name would entail throwing one of our own to the wolves. And despite the opportunity this life has afforded him, I have no doubt Gabriel would happily sacrifice himself for you.”
I nod, no question in my mind he’d do just that. That he’s probably contemplating doing it at this very moment.
“Unfortunately, doing so would complicate matters. Not only will the people of this country essentially learn that the royal family was involved in covering up a crime seven years ago, but we also have an extradition treaty with the United States, which would require us to hand Gabriel over if the district attorney decided to charge him with any crime in connection with his arguably reckless driving that resulted in the death of two people. I’m not certain of the penalties for manslaughter in New York, but I assume it will most certainly include prison time.”
“Prison?” I squeak out, my mouth growing dry. That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. “It was seven years ago. Surely, any statute of limitations has run out.”
“Unfortunately, it hasn’t. While the statute of limitations would generally be five years, in many jurisdictions, it’s suspended during any period the alleged offender isn’t physically present in the state.”
I look up from the chess board, my breathing growing shallow as dread settles deep in my stomach.
“You’re most likely doing the math in your head right now,” she remarks, making her next move with confidence and determination, her white pieces beginning to circle my king like a shark. But I still have a few moves up my sleeve.
I hope.
“He hasn’t been in New York for a total of five years,” I murmur.
“Precisely.”
“So if he were to come forward…” I trail off, shaking my head. “Isn’t there some sort of immunity?”
“To some extent, yes. As you should have learned during your training, the royal family does enjoy some immunity. But there’s no diplomatic immunity for causing a car accident and fleeing the scene of a crime. It’s irrelevant that he may have also saved a life that night. In the eyes of the law, he took a life. Technically, two.”
“But his MS,” I argue, grasping at straws. “He had temporary blindness. That must be a defense.”
“It’s possible. But not a guarantee. That would be up to the judge or jury to decide. Who can very well decide that Anderson was negligent in getting behind the wheel in the first place upon leaving the hospital where his girlfriend had just died. Even went so far as to threaten and assault his chief protection officer in order to do so.”
I study the board, trying to strategize several moves ahead on both our parts, searching for a way out of this corner I seem to be stuck in.
“I can tell you His Majesty and the Privy Council are having the same discussion with Prince Gabriel as we speak. And they’re also telling him the choice he has to make.”
“And what’s that?”
“The one we must make every day of our lives. Between our wants and our country’s needs. He can either love you or love his country, but it appears he can’t do both.” She leans closer. “Do you really want to be the reason he throws away everything he’s worked so hard for?”
I rest my elbows on the table, despite my etiquette training that I shouldn’t, and dig my hands through my hair, searching for an alternative, both in life and on this board.
“Do you really want to be forever remembered as the woman who destroyed Prince Gabriel’s career?” She leans closer. “Who forced his hand? Who sent him to prison? Because if he comes forward with the truth of that night, there’s a strong likelihood of that happening. Not to mention, this entire monarchy could become ancient history.” She pauses, lifting her eyes to mine. “Unless…”
“Yes?” I press, hope building inside me that she has another way out of this mess. An option that will allow me to keep Anderson and clear my name.
“What’s the sportsmanlike thing to do when there’s no path to victory in chess?”
I blink, my throat tightening as I look between her and the board where she has my king caged in with no possible way of winning.
From the moment I heard my mother’s interview, saw the vitriol spewed against me online and in protests here in Belmont, I feared this was how it would end. But now that it’s here, that reality has sunk in, that there’s no way to untangle myself from this spider’s web, it pains me in a way I didn’t think possible.
“Of course, my original offer from several weeks ago still stands. The royal family takes care of its obligations.” She glances at my stomach before returning her eyes to mine. “In the game of chess, my darling girl, sometimes you have to sacrifice your queen in order to save the king.”
I blink, staring past her, the room feeling like it’s closing in on me.
When I was younger, I had a dog named Max, a goofy Golden Retriever. After my father died, Max was always by my side, offering me the support and compassion my mother refused to bestow upon me. When Max got sick several years later, it felt like I was losing my dad all over again. At least with Max, I had time to prepare. I was able to have a few good days with him before the vet came to our house to put him to sleep.
At the time, I thought it would make things easier.
It didn’t.
It doesn’t matter how much you prepare for an inevitability. When you reach that point and have no choice but to say goodbye to someone you love and cherish, it rips you to shreds.
Just like this is ripping me to shreds right now.
My hand trembles as I gradually bring it toward my king, placing my pointer finger on top of it. The instant I do, I know there’s no going back. I’ve touched the piece, so I have to play it. Anywhere I move will eventually put me in check. So I make the only move I can.
My eyes trained on hers, I carefully place my king on its side.
Tears stream down my cheeks, but Queen Veronica doesn’t seem affected in the least by the fact that she’s all but asked me to rip out my heart and present it to her on a golden platter.
“I resign,” I manage to choke out.
Then I push back from the table, keeping my head lowered as I storm out of the room, not so much as looking back to curtsey.
I have no obligation to do so now.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Anderson
Weariness fills me as I trudge through the halls of my residence after what felt like a marathon meeting with my father and the Privy Council. No matter what I proposed in order to dig the royal family out of the mess Nora’s mother created, it still boiled down to the same thing.