Royally Benevolent (Resplendent Royals #4)

68. The Afterlife

68

THE AFTERLIFE

ODETTE

“ T he bitch is dead! The bitch is dead!”

I heard it as a celebration. Alexandra’s voice rang through the house. Who was dead? What bitch? It took me a moment before I put it all together. I tossed my sheets off and opened my bedroom door to see Alexandra dancing around with baby Manon on her hip as gleefully as she could muster.

“Celeste is dead?” I asked.

“She’s dead. Dead as a doorknob! The wicked bitch is dead.”

Manon giggled, clearly happy to see her mother’s cheerful expression.

“How? When?”

I thought Celeste might never die. I worried she might live forever and never thought about the “after.” Like my worries about marriage and babies being a mysterious blank space, Celeste’s afterlife didn’t exist in live colour. Now, I was living in it.

“She died this morning. They found her body lifeless at the Chateau. So, now, they will bring her home from France, and we will throw her in the ground and dance on her grave.”

“Alex, ugh,” I groaned. “Is that necessary ? ”

“She tortured us. I can dance.” Alexandra turned to Manon. “Can Mama not dance? Do you want to dance?”

The child squealed, grabbing her nose.

I didn’t want to be gleeful , but the relief of Celeste going took over. She was gone . I was truly free to never think of her again! She’d been elderly and frail since Alexandra expelled her to France but never truly gone. We occasionally entertained her to keep up the “happy family” aspects. And despite Astrid’s hatred, she was allowed to attend the wedding. It was the last we saw of her.

“So, come on. I want to celebrate!”

“Alex—”

“I am serious. We are living—thriving—and we have a celebration of death to plan. Astrid is on her way.”

“Ingrid is at a competition,” I said. “Can she stay? She has the Kentucky Three-Day?—”

“I know. She will probably have to miss it. This is a state funeral. We must look like we care.”

“You do care—just in all the wrong ways, sister.”

“My love, the champagne has arrived.” Rick approached with champagne flutes.

“Oh, yay!”

“Alex, it is eleven AM, and you’re drinking?”

“This is a momentous occasion, kid,” Rick said. “Come on. To the family room! Let us drink and be merry.”

“I’d rather not,” I said.

“Okay, enough with the self-pity fest,” Alexandra said.

“I’m not.”

“You are.” She handed the baby off to Rick. “Wyatt is back in town. I told her to text him and see if he wanted to talk.”

“It’s been more than six months since we talked in person,” I said. “He probably doesn’t think about me anymore.”

“Oh, please,” Rick said. “He probably still misses you. If you want to reach out?—”

“Exes are exes for a reason,” I said.

“Not if you’re miserable,” Alexandra said .

“I’m fine.”

“You’re exhausted from working too much and could use a little fun.”

“He misses you,” Rick said. “When I spoke to him yesterday, he asked about you. If you don’t miss someone, you don’t ask.”

Rick attended a transportation event with the Prime Minister and Alexandra. That is what prompted my yearning to reach out. I still loved him. Much as I wished to deny my feelings, I still loved Wyatt Worthington. Since Wyatt left, I’d set my advocacy work aside, and no more had been done on pedestrian safety. I knew I needed to go to the board again and demand a thorough investigation, but I had little hope of doing that without Wyatt’s vote.

“He was looking forward to seeing you at the ribbon cutting,” Alexandra added. “I swear he was.”

Secretly, I’d hoped to arrive looking so hot it would give me an in to speak to him. I’d tortured myself over it.

“Well, that’s done now. We’re in mourning,” I said. “Game over.”

I retreated to my room to find Grieg asleep in bed. He lay on his side, legs straight. One ear perked as I approached, but he remained in place. I called him after me, going to the family room to get drunk while watching Island of Love and eating sweets all day. I’d never seen Alexandra so carefree and relaxed. Rick dealt with the children while she soaked up freedom.

Eventually, I found myself bored, tired, and drunk. So, I wandered down the hall to my old harp in the music room. Having never played drunk, I realised I should have chosen the piano. It had been ages since I’d bothered to play. It was fun but not easy when your fingers didn’t sync well with your brain. Even Grieg looked unimpressed. I plucked along for a minute until I was interrupted.

“Your Royal Highness?”

I looked towards the doorway. I spied a footman holding a flower vase.

“Oh, God, it’s begun!” I said.

“Ma’am?”

“Just set them somewhere,” I said.

“There is a card, ma’am.” He held out the card.

I motioned for him to come closer, if only because I was too lazy to bother walking for what was probably a silly card.

I opened it in disbelief. This was not what I expected.