She slipped away with one last glance, but Grantham wasn’t looking at her, but at his brother as they spoke quietly. The king was back, focused on his duties. That was how it had to be, but oh, how she regretted the loss of the man who needed and relied on her.
Grantham met Remi’s eyes as Ophelia walked away and immediately went on edge. There was something to the way his brother walked, to the spark in his stare that let Grantham know something had happened.
“What is it?” he asked softly.
Remi pursed his lips. “A runner arrived just after you left us, sent ahead by Jonah and Ilaria. They are returning, arriving tomorrow, and they are not alone.”
Grantham rubbed a hand over his eyes. “And that’s all that was said. No missive of explanation or preparation?”
“I was confused by that, as well. But this must mean they’ve found the leader of the rebellion. Who else could be coming?”
“It seems so,” Grantham said softly. His heart throbbed at the thought. “I will finally face off with the man who wants me gone.”
“And how do you feel about that?” Remi asked.
“A king doesn’t feel—”
“I’m not asking about the king’s feelings, I’m asking about my brother’s.” Remi interrupted. “They are not the same.”
“They are still the same, at least for now,” Grantham said, bending his head. “But that isn’t a way to dodge your question. I am…I’m uncertain how I feel. Since I don’t know who this man is, what his motivations are, it’s hard for me to picture how it will go. And I’m uncomfortable about that, I admit. But I suppose we will know tomorrow. Odd that we received Jonah’s letter this morning saying they were still looking and this less detailed message this afternoon that they are on their way.”
“The first must have been delayed,” Remi said, and then he sighed. “What can I do? And if you say nothing I will punch you with far more force than I did this morning when we sparred.”
“I would hope so,” Grantham grunted. “Since you hardly touched me this morning.”
Remi rolled his eyes as Grantham pondered his brother. Since becoming king, Grantham had tried to manage everything on his own. But this…this was too much. Ophelia had helped him see it, had helped him realize that he could accept help and not be weak.
“You have always had a closer bond to our people,” he said with a sigh.
Remi looked confused. “I…suppose that might be true. In my position I was allowed to be freer, or I decided to be, the consequences be damned.”
Grantham nodded. “I do need your help. Meet with Dash. Together, I need you to find a way to uncover how many of them want…” He hesitated because he could scarcely say it. “How many of them want me gone.”
Remi’s eyes went wide. “Wait, are you considering abdication? And…what? Leave me in charge? I’m certainly not equipped or interested in—”
“I wouldn’t drop this burden on anyone in this family,” Grantham interrupted. “I’m not considering abdication, Remi. These people, they don’t want a king or a queen. Not me, not you, not either of our sisters.”
“You would consider that option,” Remi whispered. “Self-rule. What do they call it? Democracy.”
“If the sentiment is popular, I think I must. My duty is first to the people.”
Remi stared at him for a very long time, long enough that Grantham started to worry he had broken his brother. Then Remi smiled slightly. “Father is rolling in his grave right now.”
Grantham barked out a laugh, despite the difficult circumstance. “Well, that is a happy side benefit to this position we find ourselves in.”
Remi grinned at him. “I almost wish I could see it.”
“As for this meeting with the person Ilaria and Jonah are bringing tomorrow, I also hope you’ll be available to join me for it. I’ll need your powers of observation to help me determine what is truth and what is something else.”
“I will be with you to the end, Grantham,” Remi promised. “Whatever that end may be.” He turned to the door. “I’ll go to Dash right now. We’ll work this out.”
As his brother left, Grantham sagged. He had been fighting a war for a long time. Since even before his father’s death. Fighting to find out who he was, fighting to be a better king than the last man who had held the crown. But now, for the first, time, he felt a flare of hope.
He just prayed he wasn’t foolish to believe that something could change. That this decision could be better for his country, rather than labeling him the man who had destroyed his home, his family and the life of his people.
CHAPTER 19
It had been hours since the situation on the terrace and her encounter with Grantham in the parlor. Now Ophelia sat on the terrace with the queen, Priscilla and Sasha, watching them huddle together, trying to work out the future.
She was an outsider to the conversation. Priscilla had been enveloped in their fold, but Ophelia had no place. She was Grantham’s lover, nothing more, and she doubted anyone outside of Priscilla had guessed that shocking fact.
In a way, Grantham was an outsider, too. Oh, he shared the same royal blood, the same troubled past. But he had to be outside because of his duty.
The doors to the palace opened, and Remi and Thomas stepped out. Ophelia could see their smiles were forced as they crossed to the ladies.
“We still have time before supper and sunset,” Remi said as he leaned down to kiss Priscilla’s cheek. “Thomas and I thought we might persuade you ladies to take a walk in the gardens. Shake off a bit of this gloom.”
Sasha and Priscilla stood together. Sasha linked her arm through her husband’s. “A fine idea. Mama, Ophelia, will you join us?”
Ophelia glanced back at the house. Grantham wasn’t coming. He was likely holed up in his study, trying to work out what to do. How to do it. How to not fail, as was his greatest fear.
“Ophelia?” Priscilla said.
She shook off her thoughts. “Not tonight, perhaps. I’m a little tired—I may take my rest.”
“I will also stay here,” the queen said with a smile for the foursome. “You enjoy yourselves.”
The others exchanged a look, but then off they went, down the terrace steps into the garden below. For a short time, their voices could be heard, talking and laughing, though perhaps in a more subdued way than they might have before the presentation earlier in the day.
The queen turned to Ophelia with a smile. “It is good to see them all so happy.”
Ophelia nodded. “I can imagine. All your children have been very lucky in their marriages, it seems. All but Grantham—er, the king.”
Queen Giabella’s gaze flitted over her, seeing too much as she leaned back in her chair. “I fear I allowed my husband too much control over how Grantham was raised and treated. But I think he has told you as much.”
Ophelia dropped her gaze. “It may have come up that the previous king was not always…kind.”
“And you are, for putting it so diplomatically. A fine quality in a potential match for a king.”