Chapter Four #2
Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed quietly, and she lifted the blanket in her lap to wipe the tears away as they fell.
Brayden had lost his mum at a young age too.
They’d bonded over that as children, the loss of their mothers.
Thinking of Brayden’s mother always made her emotional, especially now.
Probably because his pain was so similar to hers.
They were both hurt in the same way, deep down.
Scarlett wished she could climb through the mirror and lie in his arms.
“I’ll be there waiting for you if I die first,” he added. “I promise.”
She cried harder, and each breath was an effort. “Don’t make me think about y-you going first. You’re not allowed to d-die before me.” The loss of him would kill her.
“Sorry. I’ll try not to. It’s harder for the ones who get left behind.” He smiled. “Maybe we can go at the same time. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll die in our sleep on the same night when we’re old and ready to go. How cool would that be?”
His odd excitement over something so macabre soothed her somehow, and her breathing became smoother. “Yes, please. At the same time. But let me go, like, one minute before you do.”
He smiled sadly. “Okay, but just one. I’ll follow you into the dark.”
The next day, Scarlett and her family made their way to the Tornaling National Cemetery, on the far eastern side of Soleil, for the funeral. She’d come to the cemetery plenty of times to visit her mother’s grave, and now she’d be visiting her father here too.
Far from the canals that surrounded the heart of the city, rows and rows of white tombstones peppered the thick green grass.
Rare cloud cover kept the summer sun from beating down on Scarlett’s head as hundreds of dignitaries surrounded the casket, but her outfit still made her miserable even without the direct sun.
The waistband of her tights dug into her stomach as she sat down, and the new black dress, delivered by Laylani that morning, made her skin itch.
Scarlett’s vision blurred as she stared at the Soleil flag covering the polished wood box that held what was left of her dad.
A large security detail hovered around Scarlett and her family, keeping away anyone who tried to approach.
They’d escorted them to the ceremony and would be taking them home again afterward, as if anyone cared what happened to them now that her father was gone.
An honor guard dressed in full ceremonial military attire stood at attention alongside the casket, waiting to bear it to her father’s final resting place.
Police and military swarmed the perimeter, probably trying to look useful to compensate for how they’d failed to protect their prime minister four days ago, but Scarlett ignored them.
They were all trying to look important and busy, but none of them could do anything to make it better.
The investigation into who’d shot her father was the only thing being spoken about in the news, but all the coverage was pure speculation, because the Soleil Bureau of Investigation had no leads. The greatest country in the world, with the best technology, and there was not a single fucking lead.
Scarlett stood between her grandmother and Beni while the Chief Justice of Soleil gave the eulogy.
“Prime Minister Jules Heroux led a life of service, from his time in the navy to the day he died…”
The crowd was silent.
As Scarlett stared at the casket, images of her father flashed through her mind.
She saw him across the dinner table at home, smiling at her; sitting on her bed and talking politics with her while she studied; holding her and gruffly patting her back when she cried as a child.
Never again would she see him laugh or make him proud.
He wouldn’t be there if she ever got married.
Her father had held Scarlett’s hand at her mother’s funeral in this same cemetery. Now her father was gone too. Time had healed her grief over her mother’s death, but her father’s murder had sliced into that old scar, reopening it and deepening it.
They were both gone. Scarlett was alone.
The speaker’s words didn’t reach her.
But then Manon gripped her hand, and Scarlett looked down at where her arm was linked with Beni’s. She wasn’t really alone.
Manon, Beni, and Brayden. Her reasons to hold it together.
She stole a glance at her brother’s face. His breathing was jagged as two tears slipped down his cheeks. She let go of her grandmother’s hand and pulled him into her arms. Beni threaded his arms around her waist, and they held each other for a long moment.
Beyond him Laylani stood next to her sister, Lady Moira Ashworth. The women both wore black netting over their faces, but underneath it, they were stoic and composed.
Scarlett glared at her stepmother’s profile.
Since her father’s death, Laylani had offered only frigid advice, such as “you’ll get over it,” even to her son.
The most upset Laylani had been was when she’d learned Jules had asked to be buried next to his first wife in his will, but she’d seemed more angry than sad or hurt.
The only other crack in her composure was the return of her secret cigarette habit.
Scarlett never actually saw Laylani smoking, but the smell of smoke mixed with her expensive perfume whenever she passed Scarlett in the hallway.
Scarlett couldn’t believe a loving wife would react so minimally to her husband’s violent murder.
Scarlett, on the other hand, had eyes that were swollen from crying.
The eulogy ended, and she turned to look at the rows and rows of chairs behind them while the next speaker approached the podium.
Her gaze immediately locked on the Spencer family.
They were in the second row, along with most of her father’s peers from Parliament.
Elestine looked far more devastated than Laylani and was dabbing her veiled face with a tissue while her shoulders shook.
Alastair stared at her until she turned away to face forward.
He’d come to see her the day after her dad’s death, but she was asleep after returning from the hospital, so Martin had turned him away. Their breakup seemed like such an insignificant thing in the wake of this tragedy, and yet it had tainted her final hours with her father.
Scarlett flinched as guns fired into the air in a salute. Manon grasped Scarlett’s hand tighter. A bagpipe played, signaling the end of the funeral.
The past few hours—the past few days—had been utterly draining, and all Scarlett wanted was to be out of the public eye. She couldn’t believe she still had to get through a funeral luncheon at the Navy Club. She’d rather go home and be alone with Beni and Manon, and later that night, with Brayden.
She stood and took a deep, steadying breath as their security team approached, ready to lead the family back to their vehicle.
Laylani took Beni’s hand and pulled him away from Scarlett, either ignoring or not noticing Scarlett’s glare.
In front of hundreds of onlookers, they all began the walk to the car.
To Scarlett’s surprise, Lady Moira Ashworth began to walk beside them, directly next to Scarlett.
Her presence chafed. Her dad had privately hated his sister-in-law, and Scarlett had never liked her either.
Is she trying to be in the photographs of the funeral? To look patriotic?
“It goes without saying that I’m sorry for your loss,” began Moira as they walked side by side toward the vehicles. “Your father and I didn’t agree politically, but I respected him.”
“Thank you.” A bead of sweat trickled down Scarlett’s back. The eyes of the crowd were weighing her down, and she hoped Lady Ashworth was done talking.
As her family got into the waiting SUV, Moira pulled her aside.
“Scarlett, could I have a quick word?”
Scarlett stiffened. “I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”
“I’ll make it quick. I wanted to let you know you have options.” She waved when Laylani looked at them, motioning to Scarlett.
To Scarlett’s surprise, her stepmother waved back, seemingly fine with the delay.
Oh, here we go. What the hell could this be about? Unable to force a polite, attentive expression, she let her features relax without attempting to smile.
Moira looked as if it were any other day as she spoke.
“Laylani mentioned you’ve postponed your tour abroad, which is wise, but you’ve got a couple of years before you’ll inherit.
You’ll need to do something. If you’d consider it, I’d like you to join my staff.
I could offer you opportunities you may have never considered. ”
Moira waited for a response, but Scarlett stared at her. Was she serious?
After a long pause, Moira went on. “Give it a think, and we can discuss it anytime you like.”
Scarlett willed her bleary eyes to focus. Who did this woman think she was, trying to get Scarlett to abandon her father’s beloved Cerulean Party the day of his funeral? She sucked in a breath and spoke.
“Lady Ashworth, my father was shot in front of me four days ago. I find it odd you’re offering me a job under these circumstances. Don’t you think, if I were going to work in Parliament, it would make more sense for me to take my father’s seat early? With respect, why would I want to work for you?”
Before Moira had approached, Scarlett’s only plan was to quietly make it from one day to the next until being alive wasn’t nonstop pain.
That was still her plan, if she were honest, but it was gratifying to piss off Lady Ashworth all the same.
Her dad would have loved the way Moira’s eyes flashed at Scarlett’s words.
She’d never looked more like Laylani. It had always confused Scarlett that Jules could love Laylani and hate her sister when, to Scarlett, they were a matched set.
Then Moira’s calm demeanor returned. “There’s no rush to take his seat, is there?” Her voice was soft enough that no one around them could overhear. “You’d benefit from a year or two of mentoring.”
Does she think I’m stupid?
Scarlett stared pointedly at Moira. “If I take his seat, I could help pass my father’s border legislation.
I’ve been watching the news over the past few days.
With my father dead, his legislation is in jeopardy.
I could use whatever sympathy I have in the wake of his death to help.
I know my vote is needed to preserve his legacy. ”
Moira’s gaze darkened. “I’d hoped you might be more open-minded.”
In a way, Scarlett’s anger was a relief, because it took from the sea of grief filling the rest of her.
Unlike the grief, her rage was a practical outlet.
It burned through her apathy for the future and grew her desire to take her seat in Parliament.
She wanted nothing more than to see the look on Moira Ashworth’s face when the border legislation passed.
It would make both of Scarlett’s parents proud, wherever they were.
Her father’s death wouldn’t have to mean the death of his dreams. She could end the isolationism of Soleil and thus reduce bigotry toward other countries like Clair de Lune in his honor.
It was what her parents both would have wanted.
She shrugged, her barely-there patience wearing thinner by the second. “Like I said, you’ve caught me at a low moment.” She waved her hand toward her father’s casket. “Your timing is incredibly bad.”
“I suppose I should have known you’d be like this, given your mother was forest trash from Clair de Lune.”
The comment was so venomous it stunned Scarlett, and her lips parted.
Moira took two steps away, paused, and came back. Her glare was angry enough to startle Scarlett even in her current state. “Take care, Scarlett. I hope it’s all worth it. I’d hate to see you end up like your father.”
“I’d rather end up like him than end up like you,” spat Scarlett, her voice raised.
“That can easily be arranged.” Moira walked off without another word.
Scarlett’s eyes widened. Did she really just say that? She was sleep-deprived, and her brain was full of fog, but Moira’s parting threat pierced through her and shook her to the core.