Chapter 31
***
Snow fell as usual on the anniversary of Ehiri Luciano von Maximilian's death.
The queen, carefully dressed in a simple, unadorned robe and with her hair neatly coiffed, entered the chapel, her black veil hiding her intense grief.
The attention of the mourners who filled the chapel was focused on the queen, who was making her first public appearance in months.
As she made her way to the family pew, Queen Marianne squeezed her husband's hand to steady her steps. His large hand wrapped around hers and squeezed it tightly.
On days like this, Queen Marianne was even more sensitive.
She tried not to think of the child's face in the pitiful wooden box. She balled her fists to suppress her grief at the loss of her child. She had to maintain her royal dignity in the midst of her heartbreak.
From her seat, Marianne slowly turned her head to follow the footsteps echoing in the silence.
Her grown son was walking down the aisle of the chapel. Dressed entirely in black, his hair was hung low and his eyes were serene and piercing.
He was flawlessly beautiful.
If only Ehiri was still alive.....................
The stark black robes felt like they were suffocating her. Only today, the sensation of being oppressed had become horribly painful.
Her skinny hands trembled slightly as she gripped the holy book. Alexander put his arm around her, soothing her.
"We agreed not to do that."
"I don't want to, either, but I am................. afraid of him."
The slender shoulders in her black fur coat shook slightly.
Please. Please don't let me hate my child.
Arthur sat down beside her as Marianne prayed again and again to God for mercy.
"Are you all right?"
Arthur's low voice rose above the solemn tones of the organ. Marianne bit her lip nervously beneath her veil. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together.
A chilly expression.
It was familiar, and Arthur kept his gaze on the altar in front of him. His eyes locked with the child in the lily-edged portrait.
“Apologize to God for living alone.”
It was time for atonement.
"If God doesn't save you, you'll end up in the fires of hell.”
Queen Marianne was not wrong.
Every day was already hell.
The memorial service began with the priest presiding over a gathering of royalty and nobility. His voice mimicked grief as he recited a prayer.
"..................Pardon us for our sins."
"Amen."
The solemn voice of the Duke of Deimos came from across the aisle, seated next to him. Arthur sat up straight and looked at the Duke with serene eyes.
The murderer had deceived his victim to the very end.
His abomination filled Arthur with a revulsion that bordered on murder, but he kept his anger in check by clenching his jaw tightly.
A long eulogy followed from King Deutzen, godfather of Ehiri Luciano von Maximilian. At the end of the eulogy, which was as mournful and equally boring as always, he returned with a stoic expression.
Cecilia, dressed all in black as if she had just stepped out of a coffin, walked out in the reverent light that filtered through the tinted glass windows. As she stood before the choir stalls, the heavy strains of the pipe organ, which reached to the high ceiling, fell all around like heavy air.
Cecilia's hands clasped together in reverence, and from her mouth flowed a tribute to the ill-fated crown prince. Her voice, tastefully restrained from the emotion that pulsed through it, was a performance in itself.
Fake sorrow.
Despite her passionate performance, Cecilia's voice failed to reach Arthur.
Having never lost anything, Cecilia's grief was fake. Arthur was terribly disillusioned by the poor performances of the singers and actors.
"Apologize to God for living alone.”
The tight collar choked him, sending a surge of irritation through him that was unbearable, even for a living, breathing man.
"Your Highness.”
A woman's voice called out.
Arthur's gaze snapped to Cecilia, lit by an ornate golden candelabra, but his consciousness was somehow still in the Duke of Deimos's solarium that night.
"Breathe. ...............Breathe slowly.”
An involuntary sigh escaped him. He breathed properly again, as if the curse had been lifted.
"..................It's okay now.”
The woman had whispered softly in his ear, like a bright light dispelling the darkness.
Arthur's hand, which he had curled into a tight ball, uncurled slowly. The warmth of the woman's hand stilled him.
It was too vivid a sensation to be an illusion.
***
The memorial service ended at noon.
Queen Marianne was escorted by King Alexander and Princess Charlotte in a carriage drawn by six white horses. The huge crowds that had gathered in front of the cathedral to watch the royal procession parted to either side.
Arthur watched the scene in silence, then pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket and raised his head.
The midday air was unrelentingly bitter. The gray clouds looked like the snow would last until tomorrow.
The aide cupped the flame of his lighter in one hand and held it to the end of his cigarette, and soon a puff of light gray smoke rose into the pale air.
"Are you going to Saint-Drine House? Let’s go together."
Cecilia approached, the hem of her black dress fluttering.
Arthur tore his eyes away from the royal carriage and looked down at her. The green eyes that looked up at him with concern were eerily similar to those of the woman, Christine Peildon.
After meeting those eyes in silence, Arthur replied dryly.
"Please take care of my mother."
"..................Why?"
Cecilia's voice trembled a little in panic.
Every year, after the memorial service, she and Arthur traveled to Saint-Drine House, the royal hunting lodge, where she sang for him, and he needed that kind of solace.
Cecilia searched Arthur's silent face. His still eyes were as dark as the sky, which had begun to snow again.
"I'm afraid she doesn’t have any children to keep her company. So stay with her.”
She didn't answer quickly. The unexpected turn of events was disappointing, but Cecilia was a lady of noble birth who knew how to hide her discontent.
"If it is Arthur's request, I will................... Okay, okay."
Cecilia smiled gently, and the gentlemen around her looked at her with fascination. For the prima donna of the Royal Opera House was graceful and beautiful in her formal attire.
"Escort me to the carriage instead."
Cecilia asked, ignoring the stares.
Arthur nodded briefly, put out his half-burnt cigarette, and walked with Cecilia to where the Duke of Deimos's carriage was parked.
Only then did the ultramarine blue carriage carrying the crown prince set off.
As the carriage with its golden rims approached the cathedral's main entrance, the mourners lining the streets bowed their heads in unison to offer their condolences.
For the crown prince who would bear the heavy crown of his departed brother.
Some of them clearly remembered the terrible tragedy of twenty years earlier.
In the midst of the devastating circumstances, and without any formal ceremony or statement, the royal family announced the crowning of the new Crown Prince at the same time as Ehiri Luciano von Maximilian's first anniversary memorial speech.
It was one of the loneliest and saddest crownings in history.
It was a time when grieving citizens passed by the carriage window as meaninglessly as a flowing landscape. Arthur's gaze paused for a moment as he pulled a cigarette from the packet in his uniform pocket.
Through the falling snowflakes, a woman in a black veil stood stiffly, looking his way.
A worn ashen dress and a shawl of a lighter gray.
It was unmistakably Christine Peildon's.
***
🎶You are the reason my heart broke.
On the stage of the Gounod Opera Theater, the tenor playing Alejandro sang of his passionate love for Violet and gently placed his hand on Christine's shoulder.
It was Christine's turn.
🎶Oh, my pure one.
🎶All I can give you is my friendship
As Alejandro and Violet's lyrical duet began in the blazing spotlight, the audience was mesmerized.
The theater, which was in the midst of a rehearsal, was sweltering with the heat from the singers.
Alejandro was about to begin his aria when a startled Christine flew out of his arms like a butterfly into the audience.
The mezzo-soprano playing the maid, who had just entered the scene, tripped over her foot and fell with a shrill scream.
****
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