39. Alexei #2
“Yes,” Lady Penelope adds quickly. “Anything at all.”
I nod, slower this time. “Truly… thank you.”
It feels insufficient, but it’s all I have left to give.
Lord Bradley draws Abby a little closer as another sob slips free, guiding her gently as they begin to move on. She doesn’t look back.
And then, the line breaks. For the first time since the service ended, there’s no one immediately stepping forward to take their place.
Silence settles, not complete, but close enough to notice.
I exhale, the breath leaving me heavier than it should. My hand drifts up to the back of my neck, fingers pressing into the stiffness there as I roll it slowly, trying to loosen something that refuses to give. My shoulders follow, shifting, easing enough to remind me how tight they’ve been held.
The space around me feels different now. Wider. Colder.
I let my gaze drift for a moment. Long enough to feel it. Then I straighten again.
The earth is still fresh. Dark soil, turned too recently, sits unevenly beneath my shoes. The scent of earth lingers in the air, raw, damp, final. It clings to the back of my throat with every breath I take.
I stand there, staring at the stone.
Beloved Father. Husband. Protector.
The words are carved deep, clean, permanent. Too permanent.
A few days ago, this was an idea, plans spoken in hushed tones, decisions made in between chaos and exhaustion. Now it’s real. Solid. Unmoving.
Final.
Elena made sure of this place.
I hadn’t asked. Wouldn’t have. But she insisted, quietly, firmly, until there was no room to argue. Dad. Mom. Together, where they should’ve always been. Alongside her parents.
My chest tightens at that.
The past few days blur together in my mind, long nights, endless meetings, faces demanding answers I don’t always have. The unrest, the questions, the weight of everything left behind in the wake of Wendell’s actions, it all presses in from every direction.
But none of it feels as heavy as this moment. Not even close.
Now it’s just me.
And him.
I step closer to the stone, my gaze tracing each letter like I’m trying to memorize it.
“I still remember the day you came to me,” I begin, my voice quieter than I expect, rough at the edges.
The wind shifts, brushing past me, carrying the faint rustle of trees in the distance.
“You didn’t ask,” I continue, my eyes fixed on the engraving. “You didn’t have to.”
I huff out something that almost resembles a breath of humor, but it dies before it can become anything real.
“You already… knew.”
Just a boy. Too small. Too eager. I can still see it, standing in front of him, trying to hold my shoulders the way he did, trying to look bigger than I was. Important. Worthy.
“I wanted to be you,” I admit, my voice dropping. “To protect people. To matter.” My jaw tightens. “To protect her.”
The words linger there, heavier than the rest. Only silence answers me. I don’t know what I expect, some sign, some shift, something to tell me he can hear me. Nothing comes. Only the wind. Only the stillness that now remains in his absence.
My hand hovers over the stone for a moment. Then settle against it. Cold. Unforgiving.
“You trusted me,” I murmur. “Even then.”
An agent. A protector. All titles that meant something different when he carried them.
“I don’t know if I can do this the way you did,” I admit, my voice tightening despite my effort to steady it. “I don’t know if I can be… enough.”
The word sticks. Because it’s not about the crown. It never was. It’s about him. The space he left behind.
“I’ll try,” I offer instead, quieter now. “That’s all I’ve got.”
My gaze drops to the ground, to the edge of the grave, to the fresh dirt that hasn’t settled yet.
A breath fills my lungs, slow, deep, and leaves as heavy.
“I’m sorry.” The words scrape on the way out.
“It should have been me.” The truth lands hard in my chest. “I came back to protect her,” I continue, my voice low, roughened by everything I haven’t said out loud until now. “And somehow… I changed everything.”
The silence that follows feels louder than anything before it.
Then… soft footsteps behind me. Grass shifting. Light. Measured.
I don’t turn. I don’t need to.
Elena.
Her name settles in my chest before I even speak it.
She steps up beside me, her presence warm against the cold that’s settled into my bones. For a moment, she doesn’t speak. She stands there, her gaze fixed on the same stone, her breath unsteady as she pulls her coat tighter around herself.
I feel it, the way she absorbs the space, softens the edges of it without trying.
Her hand brushes mine. Then threads through my fingers. Warm. Steady. Real.
I hold on.
Not because I’m afraid I’ll fall. But because I know I don’t have to stand alone.
She studies me in silence, her eyes moving over my face like she’s searching for something I haven’t said.
“It’s not your fault.” Her voice is quiet, but it doesn’t waver.
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been sitting in my chest for days. “He died because of me.” There’s no softness in it. No attempt to dress it up. Only the truth.
She turns fully toward me, her hand tightening around mine as her other comes up to my arm, grounding, steadying, refusing to let me retreat into it. “He died protecting you,” she corrects. Her eyes hold mine. “Protecting us.”
The word lands differently. Not lighter. Letting me know this grief is shared.
I look at her, really look at her, and see it there. The grief. The loss. The love. He loved her. Like she was his own. Always had. Even when she wasn’t here. Even when no one knew where she was.
A flicker of memory pushes forward, files tucked away in a drawer I wasn’t meant to open. Photos. Small, stolen moments of her life he collected in silence. A painting she’d made as a child. Careful. Protected.
He never stopped watching over her. Never stopped choosing her.
“Don’t take that away from him,” she tells me softly, pulling me back. “Don’t turn what he gave into something smaller.”
Her hand lifts, resting against my cheek.
I don’t deserve the comfort, but I lean into it anyway. Because she’s the only place where the noise quiets.
“He loved you,” she says, her voice tightening as emotion finally cracks through.
“He loved me.” Her breath falters. “I miss him.” The words tremble.
“I will miss him the same way I miss my parents.” Her thumb brushes against my skin, grounding us both.
“But I’m grateful,” she adds, quieter now. “Because he gave me you.”
Something in my chest shifts. Not lighter. Steadier.
I turn my head slightly, pressing a kiss into her palm.
Elena’s lips part, then press together again. Whatever sits behind them lingers there, caught somewhere between thought and voice. I don’t push. The wind moves softly through the trees around us, carrying the faint scent of turned earth and fresh flowers. I wait.
She exhales, shoulders dipping slightly. “I had a vision… or maybe it was more of a dream about your dad.”
One brow lifts before I can stop it. My gaze drifts past her, out over the rolling stretch of land beyond the private grounds. The horizon blurs where sky meets earth, muted and gray. “What did you see in this vision or dream?” I ask.
“Him and your mom. Happy. Together,” she answers gently, her fingers tightening slightly around mine.
My attention snaps back to her. The world narrows to the space between us.
She smiles. “He wanted you to remember a few important things,” she continues, a shift in her tone. Something more certain. More deliberate.
I let out a breath. “And what was that?”
“M?j maly mu?.”
The words land unevenly in her accent, slightly off, but close enough. Close enough that it feels like the air is knocked from my lungs.
For a second, I don’t breathe.
A ghost of a sound escapes me, something between a scoff and a laugh, but it breaks halfway through. My hand comes up, dragging across my mouth as I look away, blinking hard against the sudden burn behind my eyes.
He hasn’t called me that in years. Not since the day everything changed.
“What does it mean?” Elena asks softly.
I swallow, my throat tight. “It means… my little man.” The words come out rougher than I intend.
I shake my head slightly, a breath leaving me as something fragile and long-buried shifts inside my chest. “I used to follow him everywhere,” I murmur, gaze unfocused now, seeing something that isn’t here.
“Couldn’t take a step without trying to match his stride.
If he trained, I trained. If he spoke, I listened like it was law.
” A faint huff of air escapes me. “Drove him insane, probably.”
Her lips curve, soft and warm. “That’s… adorable.”
A quiet laugh slips out this time, more real, though it still carries weight. “Yeah,” I admit softly. “Yeah, it was.”
Silence settles again, but it’s different now. Not heavy…full.
“Why do you think he wanted you to know that?” she asks after a moment.
I draw in a slow breath, letting it out through my nose as I glance down at our joined hands. “Because no one else would know it,” I say. “Not anymore.” My jaw tightens briefly. “It’s the one thing that would make me stop and listen.”
That would make it real.
My gaze lifts back to hers. “Was there anything else?”
Her expression softens in a way that makes my chest ache. “That he loves you,” she replies, her thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles. “That he’s proud of you. That there isn’t anyone more prepared to lead Zurdonia than you are.”
I look away again, jaw flexing.
She steps closer. “He’s at peace,” she continues, voice quieter now.
That one lands deeper. Somewhere, I didn’t realize was still bleeding.
“And…” she hesitates, for a second, before finishing, “he wants you to be happy. No guilt. Just… life.”
The words echo in the silence between us. No guilt. My chest rises slowly, then falls. Again.
For the first time since standing over that grave, something inside me loosens, not gone, not healed, but… less suffocating. Like a grip easing enough to let me breathe.