The Sterling siblings climb into the backseat so gracefully, they remind me of swans settling on the water’s surface. He’s in solid black — from his suit to his tie to his shirt to his pocket square. Even his cufflinks glitter darkly, crafted from the deepest onyx. She’s in an exquisite silk dress and an ornate cocktail hat with a netted veil that dips low to cover one half of her stunning face.
Alden and Carter exchange stiff nods while the girls fawn like old friends.
“Chloe, darling. So good to see you,” Ava exclaims, leaning forward to air-kiss Chloe once on each cheek. “How are you holding up?”
“You know me,” Chloe drawls, re-lighting her blunt as soon as the greetings are done. She blows out a puff of smoke. “Walking on sunshine.”
“Charming.” Ava coughs lightly and makes a show of fanning her face with a white-gloved hand. Her light hazel eyes rove around the interior of the limo, lingering for an uncomfortably long time on Carter — or maybe that’s just my imagination running wild — before finally sliding over to me. She seems to zero in on the small point of contact where my bare arm brushes up against his suit.
“And who is this new face?” Ava asks tightly.
My mind blanks for a minute as I try to remember my cover story, unexpectedly rattled by the intensity of her stare.
“Oh, her?” Chloe’s eyes twinkle with good humor as she interjects. She’s actuallyenjoyingthis, the loon. “No one of consequence. Just my new assistant, Emilia.”
“I wasn’t aware smoking marijuana all day required assistance.” Ava’s tone may be prim and proper, but there’s no mistaking the bite beneath her words. I’m vastly relieved when her eyes slide away from me.
A lowly assistant isn’t worth her attention.
I finish off my bourbon in a single gulp.
“Yes, well, we can’t all be as productive as you, Ava.” Chloe’s grin looks more like a grimace. “How many organizations do you co-chair, now? Four?”
“Five. There’s the Lund Beautification Society, the City Gardeners Association, the Veterans Relief Fund, the Art Preservation Council, andof coursethe wonderful work we’ve been doing to save the spotted owl population in the eastern mountains. Were you aware they’re endangered? It’s so important that we…”
I promptly tune her out, watching Chloe take another drag. Her eyes are glazed, whether from the drugs or the self-inflated chatter is anyone’s guess. The more Ava prattles on about her own endeavors, the stranger I find it. She hasn’t mentioned her fiancé. Not once. She’s acting like we’re on our way to a charity fundraiser for her precious spotted owls, not the funeral of two people who were supposed to be her in-laws someday.
Equally strange is that her brother, Alden, says nothing the entire ride. Not a single word. His jaw is locked tight as he stares out the window, eyes unfocused with either grief or boredom. I can’t tell from here.
“…and our focus should really be on restoring the natural grasses and trees that used to grow plentifully in those at-risk areas, because I think we can all agree, without a habitat, there’s not even a chance…”
God, does she ever take a breath?
Without a word, Carter grabs the decanter and refills my glass along with his own. Taking a fortifying sip, I tap my elbow against his.
Thank you.
A second later, I smile into my bourbon when his shoulder presses subtly against mine.
You’re welcome.
* * *
Haveyou ever driven through a crowd of half a million mourners?
I’d imagine it’s a lot like the procession at a royal wedding or the celebratory parade after particularly impressive football championship… except, instead of cheers, tears flow freely. Instead of team colors, a sea of black, punctuated by the occasional bolt of blue and gold — a Germanian flag, waving proudly over closed shop doors and tight-shuttered houses.
Somber citizens line every street from the outskirts of Vasgaard’s historic district all the way to Windsor Abbey. They blow kisses, salute, and throw flowers into the path of the twin black hearses that lead our procession — carrying King Leopold and Queen Abigail on one last tour through their capital city.
A final goodbye.
Several limos trail after in a long, stately line, ours second only to the one carrying Linus and Octavia. We’re followed closely by those Chloe would refer to asthe far side of the family tree— distant relatives who barely merit the Lancaster birthright. At our creeping pace, it takes nearly two hours to drive from one end of the city to the next. Feeling strangely numb, I stare out at the faces as we pass, safe in the knowledge they can’t see me through our tinted windows.
A week ago, I would’ve been out there with them.
Would’vebeenone of them.
Now, I am somewhere else.