Let The Games Begin

Epilogue

PRESENT DAY

Alistair's eyes were on the enormous painting of Simon that hung in the parlour, one of the few remaining paintings that Cyrus hadn't managed to get rid of.

"What are you thinking?" I said as I approached him.

"I'm thinking that he was a good king," he replied, wrapping a strong arm around my waist, "and a good man."

For all the problems in our marriage, Simon really had been a good king, and a good man. I couldn't fault him that. I couldn't fault him much of anything. To this day, I wasn't sure if he'd known about my affair with Alistair, but I was sure that he'd never been

His brother? His brother, on the other hand, was a little velvet-wearing snake in the grass who didn't deserve to be the king of a compost heap, let alone the King of England.

"What's all this about?" Eleanor complained as she came in, unceremoniously collapsing onto an 18th-century antique people would call a couch. Her eyes darted to Alistair, who was standing beside me. "Who are you?"

"Stop whingeing, Eleanor," I told her, pouring myself a stiff drink. I had the feeling I'd need it. "Can't a mother just want to have a chat with her two lovely children?"

"When that mother's you? Definitely not." She sounded suspicious, and I couldn't blame her.

Liam came barging into the room next. "I got your message. What happened to Eleanor?" He paused, staring at his sister sitting on the couch. "Really, Mum? You lied to get me to come here?"

"You wouldn't have come if I told you I needed to speak to you."
He glared at me. "I'm still trying to process the fact that we all wouldn't be here if our grandmother hadn't poisoned some poor girl's horse."

"Liam−"

"No, Mum. He's right," Eleanor chimed in, getting to her feet. Standing beside her twin brother, I felt a momentary pang of sadness that their world was going to be rocked yet again. "If you want to talk about this again, I don't think either of us are ready yet."

"It's not about that."

"Should I tell them, or will you?" said Alistair, his eyes searching mine.

"Together," I said, suddenly feeling sentimental. I squeezed his hand when he gave it to me, and turned to face our children. "Liam, Eleanor−you might want to sit down for this."