Chapter 3

Chapter 3

RAYANA POV

The sun floated across the sky as I sat on the elevated sill staring blankly at the greenery that stretched on the acres and acres of land. Tears left a trail of sticky mess on my face, and my chest rose and fell with short breaths as I tried to make meaning of the situation.

It felt like a nightmare; a cold, inhuman, cruel dream and my heart was screaming in agony to be shaken awake.

My dad and I may have had our differences but he was everything to me. The man got me in ways that nobody had ever done, and he was my safe space when the world kept me awake at night.

And to lose him just like that…

It was a cruel joke.

He was sick. There was no doubt that he was ever going to make it. Leukaemia sucked him dry from the inside. I watched him wither and rot in his skin until he was nothing but the shallow reflection of the glorious and mighty man he used to be. It hurt me to see him slowly perishing, but all of that didn't prepare me for his death.

None of it ever prepared me for this gut-wrenching feeling that made me feel like my heart was being ripped out of my chest and crashed in an iron fist.

Every cell in my body was affected by my dad’s passing, every part of me hurt and the memories did not make it any better. The big portraits that hung on every wall were suddenly so vivid and so bright I could see them at every turn.

A subtle knock sounded on the door before it softly creaked open. Hushed footsteps filled the space before a sense of familiarity washed over me. A hand laid on my shoulder and squeezed gently.

“It’s time to go, Dona.” My brother’s voice came out soothing, but the high pitch in it made memories of my father flood my mind, opening a floodgate of bitter, sorrowful tears.

I choked on my saliva as dry heaves wrenched themselves from out of me, pain clutching my insides in a tight grip and not letting me breathe. It felt like a thousand razors were cutting through my lungs with every inhalation and it hurt so fucking much.

His arms wrapped around me and he softly rocked me from side to side, murmuring sweet words into my ears.

“Dad will be landing today from Buckingham. Seeing as how today is the last day of ‘The Elizabeth Tower has fallen’ everyone is going crazy. And I mean everyone.” He snorted a laugh, and I couldn’t help but find it ironic how Charles was so alike with our dad.

Heck. He was the literal younger version of him. The hazel eyes, the hairline, and even his dry jokes sounded exactly like Dad’s.

“Where’s mom?” My voice came out crooked and unrecognizable to my ears; I hated how I didn’t seem to have it together. But how was I supposed to be all composed when I had just lost a part of me?

Just… How did one get from having such a big figure in their lives, and then all of a sudden they were ripped from you? It didn’t make sense. None of it did. How do you transition from it? How do you live knowing that you will never see them again?

“Already on the way to the airport to receive the body.”

The body…

Who would have thought that my father would one day be referred to as ‘the body’…

With a heavy sigh and a sinking feeling in my chest, I nodded before ungluing myself from the window sill.  Charles stepped away a few feet before regarding me fully.

I sniffled and stepped into my black loubotins and smoothed the creases off my long black dress.

“I look like a mess,” I noted staring at my youngest brother. He responded with a pearly grin before fishing out a pair of black Christian Dior sunglasses. I smiled and wiped a hand off my puffy, swollen face.

I grasped the sunglasses and wiped the ugly tears before slipping them on and staring at him with a silent question.

“No one is expecting you to look like a runway model, Dona. You just lost your dad. A little bit of crying goes a long way.” He soothed stepped closer and offered his arm.

How was he so calm and collected when I was dying inside with just a little thought of my dad?

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe that you’re just sixteen.” I took his arm and then glared at him from my shoulder. He gave me a knowing smirk.

“What can I say? I take after the greatest.” And how true that was!

We left my chambers and joined the convoy in a black Rolls Royce, and a fleet of cars bearing the United Kingdom flag stretched on silent roads to Heathrow Airport. Everywhere my eyes landed were the UK flags lowered to half-mast, silence ringing loudly through the cities. It all felt too surreal.

We arrived at the airport in a heartbeat, and masses and crowds of people were gathered just outside to welcome and receive their lord and archduke.

There was utter silence, not even a single buzz or cough was heard.

Charles and I joined the rest of the family, and seeing my mother so broken shattered the mask I carefully crafted in the past 20 minutes we drove from the castle.

The urge to go to her and engulf her in a tight embrace was almost suffocating. But roles, and fucking positions…

A sad hymn was sang and my heart leaped into my throat when the doors opened and the bishop appeared from the double doors, followed by a coffin covered with a Great Britain flag.

James’s hand slipped across my shoulders and unlike Charles’s, his was stronger, firmer.

I let myself crumble and hid my face on his side, letting the rain pour down my face and drench his custom coat. The Coffin was carried to the Royal hearse and once again, we paraded my father in front of thousands and thousands of patriots who waved their flag at the passing coffin.

“Careful how you conduct yourself in public, Rayana.” James’s voice came out hard and unfeeling, and I looked at him like I was staring at a stranger. Shock and utter disbelief exuding thick and heavy from me.

It’s been just 9 days after our dad passed, James being the filial, model son he was, had already assumed the title of the Archduke and was trying so hard to portray this strong facade of the future Lord of Fairefax. And fuck, I hated every minute of it.

He was the firstborn child, and a male at that; a rightful heir to the archduchy and he had such big shoes to fill; but couldn’t he have a heart and wait until our father was laid to rest? Couldn’t he just… Cast aside the whole heir and inheritance bullshit aside until we had buried our father? And just how long would he keep the good-guy act?

Maybe until after he is officially named the new Archduke of Fairefax?

“I apologize for tainting your image, brother. But I just lost my dad. I don’t think the Grim Reaper cared a bit about public image and royal duties we have to uphold when he decided to rob us of our father.” I fired back sniffing into the small handkerchief that once belonged to my dad.

James’s gaze came in hot and scalding from my right, and I brushed it off like it was nothing.

“The Grim Reaper did not rob us of our father. He was ill, we watched him die a little day by day. And I know this is quite upsetting, sister, but remember we are nearing the most important time. The people are already looking up to the next Lord and the ruler of the Archduchy. Need I remind you, that all of the eyes are on me expecting me to fail? It is I who is responsible for continuing our father’s legacy. So pardon me if I find it very hard to come to terms to our father’s funeral. This is also hard on me.”

The sheer gall!