The Heir And The Spare

#8

EIGHT

'I try to avoid stories that end with...and he was never seen again.' ― Ken Poirot

But that's the thing... he never was.

10 HOURS EARLIER:

I shouldn't be shocked to see my mother blowing smoke from her ears the minute I am ushered into the palace gates. However, what shocks me most is that she remains composed until I am back in my room where she now stands, one hand planted on her hip, the other tightly fastened around her chin. My mother has changed into more casual wear - not quite her pyjamas which I expected she was in when she was pulled out of bed to be told her children were off galivanting around London - but she's wearing a pair of light-washed denim jeans and a blouse I'm not entirely convinced is hers.

I know the best thing here would be to shut up and take whatever she is about to say to me. I should listen to her rant on being careless and dangerous and putting the lives of others in danger, but it's cutting close to three am and I am exhausted. So, I risk it, knowing full well I am either about to be plucked off the face of the universe or disowned by the very parents who made me.

"Before you say anything," I start from the safety zone of my bed. "It was a good idea, theoretically..."

It takes one second, no two before my mother finally reacts.

"A good idea?" she barks, dropping her hand from her hip and begins prowling towards me as if I'm her prey. "Anything could have happened to you and your brother. Anything, Eva. You both could have been killed."

"It wasn't thoughtless, I did my own risk assessment. I assumed it would have been fine. Adam wasn't far away." I say quickly but this was clearly the wrong thing to say.

My mother looks at me as if I've grown two heads. "You conducted your own risk assessment?" she repeats as if she can't quite believe what she's hearing. "Have you suddenly switched career paths? What do you mean you conducted your own risk assessment!"

"I weighed out the pros and cons—"

"I know what a risk assessment is, Eva!" she fumes, cutting me off. "What I want to know is why someone so intelligent can be unbelievably thick!"

"Mum..." I trail off, trying to buy time but there is no stopping this woman once she starts.

"This is inconceivable!" she repeats, her voice only getting higher the angrier she comes. "If your father was here..." she trails off and sucks in a sharp breath. This was the first time me hearing my father wasn't in the palace. "If your father was here," she says again under her breath.

"I would never put Mike or me knowingly in danger, you know that. I thought it was safe. Charlotte was already there, and we had security...eventually." I want to shoot myself in the foot.

"You left the safety of the palace on an unplanned trip without security, Eva. You went to a pub that hadn't been assessed. You know we do not have the privilege of moving around this world without protection. Anything could have happened; your brother could have been killed."

And there it is. Her true intention for this conversation. I can guarantee she's not as nearly as pissed I left without a security detail or preplanning as she is knowing her precious heir was. Sometimes I feel I could blow up in front of her, but as long as poor Michael wasn't anywhere in sight, she wouldn't even flinch. I clench my jaw, evil words of jealousy twisting around in my head. I'm hurt, the kind of hurt where I want her to hurt as badly as I am right now.

"I'm glad to know you are also astonishingly concerned about my safety too, mother."

"Now who is being dramatic," she mutters, shaking her head. She watches as I stand from my bed and walk past her. I edge towards my bedroom door and open it.