Page 59 of King of Lies
Soon Suzanne, Dahlia, and the queen are led one by one into the church. They are seated in different sections separated by ornately carved wooden ends of the pews. And thankfully, they know that the room is wired for video and it would not do to be talking trash about the new king’s fiancée on TV, no matter how long I may be around.
I do my best to keep to my eyes cast down.
Finally, Taylor and the rest of the male members of the family are brought in and seated in various parts of the family section.
Last is Rhys. He looks so handsome in his military uniform. My heart aches for the weight of the world that he seems to be carrying on his shoulders.
And then he’s led directly to Suzanne.
He looks up and his face pulls into a frown as she smiles coyly at him. He shakes his head so subtly that if you didn’t know him, you would miss the act of denial. He leads the attendant, directing him straight to me.
I chance a glance at the rest of the family, and while Suzanne’s face has gone pale like she’s seen a ghost, the queen looks absolutely livid.
As Rhys takes his seat, he takes the hat that’s tucked under his elbow and precisely sets it in his lap.
. He reaches over and lays his hand on top of mine, squeezing it, before letting me go. We watch as the procession of pallbearers carries the king’s casket, draped with his flag and covered with a huge spray of flowers, to the alter. His own military hat, so similar to the one Rhys holds in his lap, rests on top of the flag with a sword and a small jewel covered globe with a cross on top.
The service is long and meaningful. We sing hymns and follow along in the program as the Archbishop talks about the king’s life of service. How sure he is that the king was sad to leave the queen’s side, but how he is on the other side with his late wife, the mother of the new king.
I barely keep my expression blank as I ponder how fast and loose some seem to be in reminding the current queen, who is nothing short of a harpy, that her husband lived and loved someone other than her first. If I were her, I wouldn’t like it very much.
After the service is done, the pallbearers carry the casket back out of the church to the caisson. We all file out behind it and walk to his final resting place, the royal burial grounds inside the castle walls. This part of the service is private, and I feel like I hold my breath the entire time.
I wonder if the queen will slap Dahlia again, or if she’ll slap me. Will Rhys stand by and let her abuse everyone? I just don’t know. Although, I have my doubts, I firmly believe that Rhys would stand up to her. I’ve seen him do it in the past so why should it be any different now?
While I feel secure in my thoughts on Rhys and his moral compass, the queen’s words from earlier have dug into my skin as if they were made of barbs.
Once the king has been placed in the royal grounds, we quietly walk back to the castle. Everyone seems to be lost in their own thoughts. I can only hope that his children find peace together after the loss of their father. I know how deep that chasm of grief can be.
We walk back through the castle to the family balconies and watch the military parade in honor of the king. I silently pray the entire time that the queen doesn’t push me off the balcony or trip me on the steep stairs leading up to it. She was clearly playing with kid gloves before her husband died but now, all bets are off and I’m more nervous than ever. Something has to give before this house of cards comes tumbling down. And I’m terrified that at the bottom of it all, will be me.
And yet, the day of his father’s funeral is not the time to bring up my misgivings over the living situation. I can’t lay my burdens on Rhys. That would be rude and all around awful. I might not like his stepmother, but I love him. I have to be strong for him. There will be time later, I know it.
After the parades, I stand quietly while the family waves to their people. I don’t really know what to do here. I don’t belong—up here or in the country in general. After a bit of time we leave, back through the doors of each balcony, and I’m thankful I wasn’t hurled over the side to my death.
We go back down the stairs and I do my best to hang toward the back. Leo smirks at me, clearly aware of what I’m trying to avoid. But Rhys takes my hand and leads me down the stairs and through the castle to the private wing. He lets go of my hand and places his on the small of my back as he walks me down the hallway to my rooms, where he opens the door but does not follow me in. My heart clenches in my chest. Is this it? Is he about to tell me to pack my bags?
“Get comfortable,” he says softly. “Our official day is over. You did well. Dinner will be sent up in a bit.”
“Will you join me?” I ask quietly.
“No,” I’ll have something quick brought to my study, but I’ll be back tonight before you go to sleep.”
“Okay,” I reply because, really, what else can I say?
He places a quick kiss on my cheek and then walks away.
I carefully, shut the door and move through my rooms to the bedroom, where I kick off my heels and place the jewelry back in their velvet boxes, tucking them away for safety. I hang up my dress and pull on leggings and the sweatshirt I wore when we flew here that first night. I don’t know why, but I feel like I need a bit of home—a bit of the old me to keep me warm tonight. I wipe off my makeup and pull down my hair, twisting it up with an elastic into a messy bun.
I’m unsettled. I know it and so does everyone else … except maybe Rhys. Or he doesn’t want to see it.
True to his word, dinner is brought up and set on the table in my sitting room. And also true to his word, he doesn’t join me. I eat alone and then curl up under a blanket with my book. When the hour grows late, I wash my face and brush my teeth and curl into bed. Rhys said he’d be back, but he hasn’t shown. The last thought I have before sleep claims me is how many more times in my life will there be broken promises when people I love leave me behind?
• • •
I’m asleep when I’m rolled to my back and I feel hands push my sweatshirt up over my breasts. I feel the hot, wet heat of his mouth and tongue as he licks and nips and kisses me there. The pull I feel as he sucks on my nipple lights a direct line to my center and my eyes flash open, seeing nothing but the pitch black of the room.
He slides lower, pulling my leggings and panties down my legs, pushing them wider once he has them free. And then his mouth is on me. But he doesn’t move slow and tenderly, he eats me with an aggressive hunger and I gasp and clench, trying to hold on as best as I can. If he doesn’t slow down, I’ll come any second and it won’t be kind. It’ll ravage me like a tiny sailboat in a storm.
