Page 112 of Scandal Queen

John hadn’t moved. He sat at the end of the bed, his hand on her foot, his thumb rubbing small circles around the bone in her ankle.

The doctor bowed his head. “I’ll give you some time.”

The door clicked as he left and silence descended in deafening waves. “I don’t understand how any of this has happened.” The King broke the wall of wordlessness, his voice dry and cracked. His gaze drilled into me. “None of this happened before you came along.”

“Dad! That’s rubbish, and you know it.” It wasn’t Ollie who spoke, it was John, his hand still rubbed circles on Bella’s foot. “This epitomises everything we are.”

“Is she really going to die, Ollie?” The Queen shook as she looked up at her son and he swallowed hard, tears dripping down his face.

He nodded just once and I wanted to die myself. I’d take anything for him to be happy, for none of this to take place. I’d go back to that flat seven years ago and starve all over again if it would just stop this moment from happening to him.

Making a decision I felt down in my gut, I stepped away from the King and went to Ollie. I gripped his hands in my face, making the saltwater of his eyes tip faster. “I’m going to step outside.” I kissed his mouth, both our tears washing together so they slipped into our lips where they met.

“Leia, I need you.”

I smiled and brushed at my face. “I know you do. But I’m not needed here.”

With another kiss to his cheek I pushed away, then I leant down and pulled the Queen tight into my arms, squeezing her as hard as I could.

When I walked outside it was to find Freya with tears on her face, her professional facade bombed out of existence by one princess and a tablet she should never have taken.

I sat on the seat next to her and grabbed her hand. She squeezed my fingers and then we waited.

Five hours later we sat in a side room. Freya had pulled herself together and Marcus had returned. I think he looked almost relieved to see me. Maybe he just needed someone to blame like the King did.

None of this fell onto my shoulders though. I knew that, and I wouldn’t let his bushy brows make me believe anything different. I’d tried to get them help, but instead they’d pretended that Bella had flu.

Everything was a pretence with the Beauforts and now one of them wouldn’t exist anymore.

Every time footsteps fell against the floor on the other side of the door the three of us stiffened, Every minute that had passed that I didn’t hold Ollie’s hand hurt me down to the core.

“What was it like when your mother died?” Freya asked. “I’ve seen what they’ve written in the press, but I guess it’s not the sort of question one asks.”

“I told Bella about it.” I shuddered as I remembered us only a couple of weeks ago at Bernie’s. She’d been hungover, or at least I thought she had been. That same night she’d taken too much at the Russian State dinner and I’d realised that what I thought was champagne and probably something like cocaine was actually Russian roulette with a party drug.

That’s the thing with ecstasy. Partygoers considered it an easy high, so much better than snorting something, or injecting—if you just popped a pill you weren’t a drug taker, you were just in search of a party. But there was no way to determine what was actually in the pill you held in your hand.

I knew this. I’d seen it at Bright Futures. Scared twenty-somethings coming down from scary highs and turning up at our offices not sure if what they’d experienced had been right or not. And the answer was always no. There was no good high. Not ever.

“I guess for me it was different. My mum never cared for me, and the worse she got the less I even wanted her to be alive.” I paused. “I know that must sound awful.” I shrugged. “But it’s the truth. I came home from school one day, my head was full of worries. I’d done the pregnancy test, I couldn’t even think straight, and there she was in the kitchen.” I closed my eyes and remembered how it had felt. That almost sag of relief, waiting for that dart of regret or grief but finding myself strangely empty. “And then I thought to myself, well there’s a surprise, she’s never helped me with anything else, why would she help me now? I called the police and sat at the kitchen table while I waited for them to arrive.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears filled Freya’s eyes again.

I shot her a small smile. “Don’t feel sorry for me. It was nothing like this.”

Marcus cleared his throat. Such a fucking arsehole. “The press won’t hold back much longer. A statement needs to be made before news leaks and we can’t control it.”

“Marcus!” I almost exploded out of my seat, pushing my face up against his. “Will you just shut the fuck up?”

He spluttered but I refused to back down.

“As the King’s advisor, you should be worried about him, not the public.”

“It’s as the King’s advisor that I do worry about the public.” He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

“Then for God’s sake, man, just let this be. There is no good that comes from this. None. Let them be and everything else will just have to happen as it does.”

The door handle squeaked and I sprung away from Marcus.