Page 149 of The Unlikely Heir
Just let him live.
Raymond is also here. He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to me, his face white and his mustache drooping lower than I’ve ever seen it.
There’s a knock on one of the doors, and one of my grandmother’s security team edges inside.
I’m on my feet instantly.
“Is Gran here?”
He doesn’t answer me, just inspects the room with laser-focused vision. Which provides my answer. Given what just transpired, I can’t fault our protection team for being over-the-top regarding security for the royal family.
Once he’s slipped out, it’s only a moment later that Gran enters, accompanied by Clive and two more members of her security team.
I give a perfunctory bow, then move forward to hug her. Because it feels like you should definitely qualify for a hug from your grandmother when you’ve just been shot at and seen the man you love get hurt instead.
Gran hugs me back slightly stiffly, but it’s definitely a hug.
“Any news about Oliver?” she asks as she pulls away.
I shake my head. “Just that he’s in surgery. You haven’t heard anything?”
Her forehead creases. “No. I haven’t.”
As I go to sit back down, I suddenly realize I’m still wearing the white cloak Gran fastened around my shoulders at the ceremony. It’s now stained with Oliver’s blood. I should take it off, but I don’t.
Instead, I slip my hands inside the cloak and into my jacket pocket to touch Oliver’s dog tags. The ones he gave me as a symbol of our love. With a shaking hand, I pull them out of my pocket, clutching them.
Nicholas and Amelia are the next to arrive, accompanied by their security teams. I hug them both before collapsing back into a chair.
The security team and courtiers outnumber our family about three to one. What does it say that at this time of family crisis, we’re outnumbered by people who work for us? I scrub my face with one hand, still clasping the dog tags in the other.
When I look up, Amelia catches my eye. She’s on the other side of the waiting room, almost vibrating with pent-up emotion, her knee jiggling. Her hands are wound tightly together in her lap, but one hand keeps getting loose and rubbing the top of her opposing arm until she wrestles it under control and puts it back in her lap.
“It’s okay, Mellie,” I say. “We’re safe here.”
Her eyes fly to me.
“I just can’t believe it,” she whispers. “The prime minister…”
“I know,” I say heavily because the disbelief threatens to engulf me too. How can this be happening?
“The prime minister takes a vow of allegiance to the queen and her heirs, but I don’t think anyone ever expected him to take it quite so far,” Nicholas says in a shaky voice. He raises his gaze to mine, and there’s a question there. I guess he was too caught up in the pandemonium on the dais to hear what I yelled at Oliver as I was being pulled away from him.
I’m fairly sure the rest of the world heard it though.
“We’re in love,” I whisper the words.
Nicholas’s eyebrows shoot up, then they fold together
“You’re in love with Oliver Hartwell?” he confirms.
“Yes.”
His face morphs into sympathy.
“He’ll be okay,” he says.
“There was so much blood.” My voice is tattered, haunted.
