Nick’s funeral takes place in the Church of St József on the main square in Arenberg. The mood in the town is sombre, and everywhere the streets are decorated with black sashes and the flags fly at half mast, but there is no street procession and no crowded pavements as there were in Westerwald when Rik and Max’s father died.
The service is conducted in a mix of Erdélian, German and English. The church is surprisingly full, considering how many people Nick pissed off before he died. There are school friends and polo friends, prominent local citizens, even a few of Nick’s ex-girlfriends. The entire family is there, aunts and uncles, extended cousins, including those from other royal families, and including Sonja’s Danish relatives. Max and Phoenix are here too, though I’m doing my best to avoid them. I don’t think I can look Phoenix in the eyes.
But I’ve made peace with Kenzie, at least. She and Rik aren’t here today. Their baby boy was born just a couple of days ago. They’re calling him Nicholas Charles. Another Nick. Hopefully with a brighter future ahead of him than his namesakes. I realise now that I took my anger at myself out on her. I never truly thought she could have done things any differently. It feels good to apologise. But the one person I need to apologise to most of all isn’t here. She’s on the other side of the world.
Lajos and Sonja sit alone in the front row, in the royal pew. His shoulders slump, and her eyes are glazed. Her calm seems brittle, and I expect she’s taken another sedative to get through this ordeal.
My family sit in the row behind Lajos and Sonja. My parents, Jemima, me. Mátyás, with his mother and his new fiancée, a Belgian countess. They announced their engagement only a few days ago and I have no doubt the sudden betrothal was brought on by news of my visit to Erdély. He’s hoping to outmanoeuvre me, hoping that if he appears to be settled and stable, with the right kind of wife, then Uncle Lajos will announce him as the heir.
The press conference is scheduled for tomorrow. I still haven’t given Lajos my final decision. I believed my decision was made, but I can’t seem to bring myself to say the words.
The priest instructs us to stand to pray. I rise with everyone else, but don’t hear the words of the prayer. I hear Khara’s voice in my head. ‘Men like that don’t marry women like us. They’ll happily screw us, but when they marry they choose women from their own social circle, and they break our hearts …’
Until I met Khara I assumed I would live and die alone. The thought of marriage never even crossed my mind. But in the week since I watched her walk away I’ve been thinking about it rather a lot. What would it be like to have a partnership like Max and Phoenix’s? Or my parents’? Not a marriage to score points or to be dutiful, but because you simply cannot live without the other person.
I can live without Khara. I can get through the day. I can go to work. I can eat and sleep and breathe. But if I thought my life was empty and meaningless before I met her, it’s even more so now. Because now I know what I’m missing. She put a face and a name to my dissatisfaction. I can live without her, because I have to. I’ve already hurt her enough for one lifetime, and I won’t hurt her again.
In the pew in front of us, my uncle reaches out to take his wife’s hand. For the first time since I heard the news of Nick’s death, tears prick my eyes. They look so small, so alone, just the two of them. Glancing sideways at Jemmy, I see she’s noticed too. She brushes the corner of her eye.
Around us, everyone’s heads are bowed in prayer. Before I can reconsider, I slip past Jemmy, out of our pew. Her eyes go wide.
I step into the front pew, to stand beside my aunt. Lajos turns to look at me, and smiles.
The prayer ends, the organ starts to play and the priest waves for us all to sit.
I’ve sealed my fate. By moving to sit in the royal pew, I’ve announced my decision.
***
When the ceremony is over I stand beside my aunt and uncle on the church steps while everyone files past. Sonja is too distraught to speak, and Lajos’ responses to the well-wishers are perfunctory, so it’s left to me to shake hands and thank everyone for coming. My first duty as the new heir.
The royal mausoleum, where Nick’s ashes are to be interred, is on the castle property. The procession of cars winds its way out of town and up to the castle, where a buffet has been laid out in the Great Hall. Mindful of the occasion, I avoid being drawn into questions of the succession, but when Yannik and Lena come to take their leave, he grasps my hand. “Thank you,” is all he says.
It’s good to know I have an ally in the Prime Minister, because I suspect that “shit is about to get real,” as Khara would no doubt say. What the hell have I just committed myself to?
Hard as I try, I can’t avoid Max and Phoenix forever. But I decide that offence is the best defence. “Did your bet also cover how long we’d last?”
Max looks contrite, but Phoenix is less easy to manipulate. “You’re an idiot,” she says.
“I think the preferred term is ‘douche’.”
She doesn’t smile. “Do you have any idea how good you and Khara are together? She brings out the best in you.”
“She’s the one who left.”
“And you don’t have a passport, or the funds to travel anywhere in the world to go after her?”
“If I cross the ocean for a booty call, I’d only be proving to her yet again how selfish and entitled I am.”
“Firstly, it’s not a booty call if you’re trying to win back the love of your life, and secondly, what have you got to lose?”
“Is she this mean to you too?” I ask Max.
He smiles. “All the time. Why do you think I married her?”
With a sigh, I answer Phoenix. “I am not such a dick that I’ll force myself on someone who has already made it abundantly clear she doesn’t want me. She has a plan for her life, and it doesn’t include me.”
She rolls her eyes in a very non-archduchessy way. “That’s because she doesn’t yet know what she really wants. If you’d been paying any attention, you’d have noticed that you bring out the best in her too. You were supposed to show her that her grand plan sucks. She’s settling, when she deserves so much more.”
I agree that Khara is capable of so much more than she realises. But I also think she deserves better.
***
The wake seems interminable, but at last it’s only the immediate family left. We retire to the library, where the pre-dinner drinks have been set out. Mátyás is already there, and he’s already clearly a drink ahead of us. The ice in his glass rattles as he rounds on me. “How dare you? Did you seriously think you could just force yourself into the succession like that?”
Lajos shuts the door with a snick, preventing our voices from reaching the servants cleaning up in the hall beyond. “I invited him.”
Since Mátyás can hardly argue with that, he flings himself over to the drinks cabinet to refill his glass. His mother, dignified as always, her back ramrod-straight and her chin high, does not give up so easily. “I am the oldest. It should be my son.”
“Our constitution enables me to choose the best successor from among my male relations, and I have done so.”
“Mátyás speaks the language.”
“And Adam will learn it. As he has already studied our laws and our finances.”
“You don’t mind him bringing his slapper into this castle?” Mátyás asks.
I’m not sure who moves quicker, Lajos or me. He’s no longer a grieving father but the Fürst of Erdély, a respected statesman. He pulls himself up to his full height, and even I check when he stops me with a hand on my arm. He speaks calmly and quietly, but his words ring around the room. Or maybe they just ring for me. “Khara Thomas was my guest in this house, and will be accorded the same respect as any other guest. She will always be welcome in my home, whether or not Adam has the sense to bring her back here.”
“But she’s a waitress,” protests Mátyás’ mother.
“So what? But if you really can’t get past the outdated class divide, then consider this: less than five percent of the citizens of this country have aristocratic blood. The other ninety-five percent of the electorate, the ones with the power to turn this country into a republic if they feel we are obsolete, are people just like Khara. They respect her far more than they respect this family. Right now, I think I do too.”
The tension in the air reverberates like a plucked guitar string. Then Jemmy speaks into the fraught silence. “Remember that time when my cat died and I was so devastated, and Nick spent the whole afternoon playing dolls with me so I wouldn’t cry?”
My mother giggles. Clearly she remembers. I do too. I remember him playing dolls and then threatening to break my arm if I told anyone at school.
“And remember the time he dressed as Santa’s elf to sing carols to us all on Christmas Eve?”
I laugh at the memory. Admittedly, we were both pretty drunk at the time.
The tension dissipates.
Just as Aunt Sonja said, we have a lot of good memories of Nick. Half an hour later, we’re still sharing “remember when” stories, and I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time. Even Mátyás is laughing, though I know it’s going to take a long time before he’ll be civil to me again.
My father moves to sit beside me on the couch. “As usual, your mother was right,” he says quietly.
I cock a questioning eyebrow at him.
“She told me you were bored in your job and needed a bigger challenge. I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d want the responsibility, but I’m very proud of you for stepping up today.”
Though we’re not a family that hugs, I put my arm around him and squeeze his shoulders. “Thanks, Dad.”
“So when do we get to meet this paragon you’re seeing?”
“You don’t. She broke up with me.”
This time it’s his eyebrow that rises. “There’s a first time for everything. What happened?”
“She thinks I’m arrogant, entitled and self-centred.”
“Then don’t be that guy.”
I laugh. He makes it sound so simple. But later that night, trying to fall asleep in the same bed I shared with Khara, I start to wonder what it would take to change her mind.