Home > Stealing Cinderella(48)

Stealing Cinderella(48)
Author: A. Zavarelli

I open my eyes and meet hers. She’s halfway propped up but still trapped in my arms as she points at the nightstand.

A few seconds of silence pass before the phone starts ringing again, and when I pick it up, a sickening feeling swirls in my gut.

“Calder?”

“You need to get to the palace,” he says. “Now.”

 

 

My pulse thrashes in my ears as I drive through the palace gates, the tires crunching over gravel before the car comes to a stop. Outside, a team of medical workers is assembled, and one vehicle, in particular, catches my eye. It’s the coroner.

My body feels as if it’s made of lead as I trudge toward the entrance. Calder is already waiting for me there, his expression grave.

“Where is she?” I try to push past him. “Where is she?”

“She’s fine.” He holds me back and forces me to look at him. “Mor is fine.”

“She’s fine?” My lungs inflate with the first full breath I’ve taken since he called me thirty minutes ago. “Then what’s wrong?”

“It’s Father,” he says.

“Father?” I repeat. “What about him?”

His eyes are empty, completely devoid of emotion when he delivers the news. “He’s dead, Thor.”

The earth beneath me sways, and I stumble back a step. Calder reaches out for me, steadying me with his hand.

“Dead?” I wheeze.

“His heart,” he says bitterly. “They think it just gave out on him in his sleep.”

What he’s telling me seems too surreal. Too convenient. That miserable bastard couldn’t just be gone. Not that easily. He was supposed to be around for years, making all of our lives hell.

“Is he still here?” I ask.

Calder nods. “He’s upstairs in his bed.”

I push past him, and he falls in step beside me. “Thor, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I need to see it for myself.”

Calder struggles to keep up with my stride as I stalk through the palace, up the stairs and down the hall to his suite. When we reach the doorway, a few paramedics are inside, loading his pale, lifeless body onto a gurney.

The first thing that hits me is how utterly discontent he looks, even in death. And the second is a wave of grief so profound, it nearly brings me to my knees. But I can’t understand why. I hated him. I’ve always hated him.

“It’s okay to feel something,” Calder says quietly. “At the end of the day, he was still our father.”

“He never liked me.” I blink, trying to dispel the blurriness in my eyes. “It shouldn’t matter.”

Calder falls quiet beside me, and there’s nothing left to say as we watch the paramedics wheel him toward us. They offer their condolences and ask us if we’d like some time to say our goodbyes.

“No.” I turn away. “I need to check on Mor.”

“She’s asleep.” Calder follows me out into the hall. “It’s been a difficult morning. I think it’s best we don’t disturb her right now.”

“I just need to see her.” I stay the path. “I won’t wake her.”

In Mother’s room, we find her asleep, just as he said she was. Aunt Runa is at her bedside, and she greets us both with hugs and condolences as we join her. For lack of a better plan, I sink down into one of the chairs, and Calder takes another. For a long while, we just sit there, lost in our own thoughts.

“Do you really believe his heart just gave out?” I ask nobody in particular.

Aunt Runa regards me curiously. “It was only a matter of time, was it not?”

“The doctors said he had years left.”

She takes a sip of her tea and shrugs. “Doctors don’t know everything.”

“Do you suspect it was something else?” Calder frowns.

Lavinia’s offhanded remark about his heart comes to mind, but it seems like a stretch to connect those dots. Would she really take things that far? And if not her, perhaps the woman who was sleeping in his bed every night.

“Where are Narcissa and her daughters?” I ask.

Runa checks to make sure my mother is sleeping and lowers her voice to a whisper. “They made quite the spectacle this morning, carrying on with no respect or decorum. Narcissa broke into a fit of hysterics, and there was little choice in the matter. I had them forcibly removed by security and put up in a hotel until Hayes can make their travel arrangements home.”

A knock on the door disturbs us, and Hayes pokes his head inside with an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. But would you mind if we have a word?”

I drag myself out of the chair and follow him into the hall, with Calder not far behind.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I understand this must be a terribly difficult time for you,” he says. “But your father’s secretary and I have spoken, and we believe it’s imperative we start briefing you on your duties right away so we can handle the press before the story leaks.”

“My duties?” The words ring hollow when they leave my throat.

“Yes, sir. As of this morning, you are the King of Norway.”

“Thor.” Calder steps beside me. “You don’t have to do this right now.”

“But he will.” My mother’s feeble voice speaks from behind us.

“Should you be out of bed?” Calder remarks as Aunt Runa pushes her into the hall.

“I’m fine,” she answers stubbornly, her eyes moving to me. “Thorsen, I know the past couple of days have been difficult, but the time has come. This is what you were born for.”

“What I was born for?” I laugh humorlessly. “The whole country despises me.”

“They just don’t know you,” she insists. “You’ve hidden yourself well, but now is the time to let them see you for who you are, and they will love you as we all love you.”

I know what she’s doing. She doesn’t have to tell me why she’s pushing this. She thinks this turn of events will force me in a different direction and give me a purpose.

“Give it a chance,” she pleads. “That’s all I ask.”

Hayes speeds along the process by throwing another match on the bonfire.

“Your Highness, we don’t have much time. I’m afraid it’s very likely Narcissa will speak out to the media. We need to stay ahead of it. It’s your job now to control the narrative.”

“How long do we have?” I sigh, wishing that plague of a woman and her family would just disappear.

He checks his watch. “As of right now, a little under forty minutes.”

 

 

Once we secured the official press release, Hayes ushered me off to a meeting with the council that extended into the late hours of the night. After everything that’s happened, I refuse to let Narcissa humiliate my mother as her final parting shot. That nagging thought is what drives me down the hall to my father’s office.

Now that I have the keys, I can access his files. When I sit down at the desk and unlock his drawers, it doesn’t take me long to find what I’m looking for. Alongside the dossiers of the many people in our lives, there’s a folder for Narcissa and her daughters.

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