Page 111 of Scandal Queen

I’d been here before. Long ago when my mother faded from life and I’d all but given up the care and concern to worry about whether she killed herself or not.

I pressed Ollie’s hands in mine.

It would be okay. It would have to be.

The sun still hadn’t risen as we were ushered through strangely quiet corridors. I looked about in surprise; an accident and emergency room would never be this quiet on New Year’s Day.

“It’s a private ward,” Ollie muttered under his breath when he saw me glancing with interest.

The staff that were present kept their gazes discreetly turned away as we passed, no one making eye contact.

As we neared the end of a corridor the long-legged shape of Freya unfolded herself from a high wing-backed chair. She swallowed, her skin pale.

“Your Highness.” She bobbed him a small curtsey, her voice tight. She didn’t have on her standard uniform of shift dress and high heels. She wore navy trousers and a baggy chunky knit jumper. I don’t even know why I noticed what she wore, maybe it was anything to distract me from the expression on Ollie’s face as he met his personal advisor and she took his hands after her formal greeting. “I’ve kept everything quiet for now. The team are fielding calls thick and fast from news agencies all over the world. The simple request is they know who was brought in. Marcus wants to tell them. He and John came to blows not long ago, and Marcus has gone to lick his wounds somewhere.”

“Freya.” His tone echoed like rock hitting the earth. “I don’t give a shit.”

“I know, I know. I just need you to know what’s going on.”

He shook his head and she stepped out of his way as he reached for the handle on the door. He turned, his eyes beseeching me. “Leia.”

“Ollie.” Tears trickled down my face. “I think you should go in there by yourself, this is your family.”

He shook his head and reached for my hand, holding it out expectantly until I placed my fingers inside his.

I’ve seen some shit in my time. Most of it with my mother. Too many trips to the hospital, too many falls, slips, beatings. When I was fourteen too many collections from the police station when she’d tried to find ways to score.

Too many memories I never allowed to see the light of day.

Because they hurt. Deep and desperate, I had to contain them otherwise I knew they’d destroy me.

All of those memories, all of those moments of despair couldn’t prepare me for this.

Bella lay on the bed, tubes in her veins and down her mouth. Her chest rose, but even from my spot at the door it had a mechanical feel to it, as though machines spiked the air with electrical charges that could make her move.

Her long dark hair, so similar to Ollie’s in texture and colour, fanned out beneath her across the white bedding.

Bella wasn’t there anymore. I knew it.

The Queen turned, her face crumpling at the sight of Ollie who stepped up and wrapped his arms right around her.

“I don’t understand,” the King was saying to the doctor. A doctor who right now looked like he wished he’d never turned up for his shift.

“Isabella’s body shut down due to a swelling of her brain caused by severe dehydration. Her heart couldn’t take the impact of the drugs in her system, there was too much blood pumping too fast.”

“I thought this was a party drug. It’s why…” The King trailed off.

“It is.” The doctor shifted. “But it does go wrong. The body can only take a small amount of abuse at this level.”

“But what about other addicts out there?” The King flickered red eyes in my direction. “It’s not like this.”

I swallowed and then stepped up. I forced myself to place a hand on his arm. “Every drug is different. It’s why they are so hard to defeat, but this one, ecstasy, is cut with different things. It makes unquantifiable. Bella wouldn’t have known whether the tablet she took contained cocaine, amphetamines, anything really. She would have just wanted the high, the feeling of belonging that it gives.”

The King shuddered and the doctor shifted again from foot to foot, but then he lowered his voice, keeping it calm and steady but very clear. “You need to understand that Isabella is brain dead. She won’t wake up again. The machine is the only thing keeping her breathing.”

The Queen sobbed loudly, loud enough it slashed into my heart, a deep and dicing cut I’d remember until the day I died. Ollie tightened his arms around her, his gaze focused on my face as though I were a lifeboat in the sea of crazy around him.

“You want me to tell you to turn the machine off?” The King’s voice rose, echoing around the small room.