a bombshell. Their arms were intertwined, and they didn’t even unravel themselves when they curtsied to their parents.
“It’s weird to see this, knowing what we know now,” Nick said. “I’m glad you told me, and it is juicy, but it’s quite sad to watch them and wonder how long they had before…”
He trailed off, and looked at his phone screen one more time. Nothing.
* * *
The Freddie who walked through the doors of the ornate private vestibule outside Westminster Hall was not the same Freddie who had left us. He was thinner, and tired, with the air of someone who’d been lugging something very heavy and hadn’t registered yet that he’d put it down. His new beard looked freshly trimmed, like the well-considered choice of an adult man and not something he grew out of laziness in the field. He looked older. Almost gaunt. At the sight of him, I let out a breath that I felt like I’d been holding for six months. Nick simply stiffened. It was then I noticed Freddie’s right arm was in a sling over his military uniform.
“It’s nothing,” he said as he came in the door, holding up his left hand. “Don’t freak out.”
“I’m not,” I lied.
“You are,” he replied. “Broken arm, is all. Rough outing a couple of days ago.”
“Rough is one way to put it,” Richard said, coming into the vestibule behind Freddie in full military regalia. “Two other men died.”
My hands flew to my mouth. Freddie gave me an awkward one-armed hug.
“Lots to be grateful for,” he said. “I saw the least of it.”
“Holy…” Nick caught himself, and took his brother’s free left hand in an unconventional handshake. “No one told us about any of this.”
“That’s because, technically, it’s classified,” Bea cut in, appearing behind Richard with a clack of her heels and shooting his back a look that could only be described as treasonous.
“But you knew?” Nick asked.
Bea straightened her collar. “I work for Freddie as much as I work for you,” she said. “Who do you think was in charge of making sure this stayed under wraps? I don’t mind saying that it was challenging.”
Freddie leaned over and punched her companionably on the arm. “You get full marks, Beatrix,” he said. “A job very well done.”
“I would have appreciated being more in the loop,” Nick said.
“It’s done now, Nicholas,” Richard said, although not unkindly.
“It is that,” Freddie said. His voice was hollow.
“So does that mean you’re back?” I asked. “For good?”
Freddie shrugged his elbow in my direction and said nothing.
“We were running on borrowed time with the press, anyway,” Bea said, glancing down at her vintage Cartier watch. “Speaking of which, you were supposed to be in there taking your spots three minutes ago. Where is Edwin?” She scuttled across the very small room and started tearing through her luxe leather tote bag for her phone. “If he’s forgotten, we’ll shortly be planning his funeral.”
Part of the ritual of Marta’s body lying in state was that four people—members of the military, generally—took turns in a seventy-two-hour round-the-clock watch over her body, one at each corner of her flag-draped coffin, which was topped with both flowers and her iconic crown. One shift was always taken by the men of the royal family in their respective military uniforms, and Nick, Freddie, Edwin, and Richard were up that afternoon.
“Service in here is wretched,” Richard said. “Come outside with me while I call him, Beatrix, I need to discuss what Frederick will be telling the guests.”
He stalked out, Bea trailing behind him, navy-blue Smythson leather notebook in hand, leaving me and Nick alone with Freddie for the first time since everything fell apart on Thanksgiving. Nick shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“How was your flight?” he finally asked.
“We barely made it out. The weather was terrible,” Freddie said. “I came straight from the airport and changed in a bathroom I never knew was here. Of course, why would I? No one’s died lately.” He closed his eyes, and his face seemed to crumble with the effort to open them again. “No one here, anyway.”
I could see an ache settle on Nick’s face. His arms tensed, as if he wanted to hug his brother but was uncertain whether it would be welcome. So his hands remained at his sides.
“We’re awfully glad you’re back,” he said. “I hope it was…or rather…that you found what you were looking for.”
Freddie’s face was unreadable. Nick and I exchanged glances as the