Above All Else

Chapter Twenty-Nine

My eyes scan over the spread sheets for the coronation. One month from now it will take place. Both Mia and I will be crowned. Harold has noted that this coronation will need to be the biggest event in English history. This event needs to be heard around the world.

Westminster Abbey will be heavily secured, two thousand allowed inside for the actual ceremony, carefully chosen by rank of course. Outside, they expect the streets will be lined with onlookers as never seen before. The ceremony will be aired on radio, podcast and television, to all corners of the world.

The longer I think of the magnitude of the situation, the more I wish I didn't have to do it. This day, coronation day, I've always been told is the greatest day in a monarch's life. I already know it will not be in my top five greatest moments, just taking into fact that my brother had his coronation just over a year ago. His world was so full of possibility then. And now he's dead, destroyed by the day he oh-so-dearly loved.

No, if I had the choice, I'd skip this bit all together. I lean back in my chair, the desk in our bedroom overlooking the large lawn of the gardens. They are dark, unlit in the cool night. I drink the rest of my coffee before resting the mug onto the flat coaster. My eyes, as usual, gravitate towards Mia, who is on her side, her arm protectively holding Alexander close to her. They're both sound asleep, chests inhaling and exhaling normally. I sometimes find my gaze fixed on the rise and fall of her chest, the clear, deep breaths. I remember so easily when I'd watch her struggle, her chest collapsing with difficulty. It's a form of therapy for me now, to know she isn't hurting.

I stand, hearing my body crack in various places from lack of exercise. I detest having to remain indoors. I'd become so used to fresh air, dirt, sweat. These glacially slow days will be the end of me. I walk to the bed, leaning forward to grab Alexander from her grip. His eyes flutter but do not open as I press him to my chest, smoothing my hand over the back of his head. I feel his soft, dark waves under my fingers as I walk from our bedroom into the main suite. Pushing open the nursery door with my back, I don't touch the light, not wanting to wake him. The light from the suite illuminates my way enough so I don't trip over the scattered toys on route to the crib.

I place him onto the soft thin layer of cushion, removing my hands slow so he doesn't notice they're gone. Triumphant, I turn on the baby monitor and leave the room quickly, closing the door halfway. I hear the door click open then and stop beside the loveseat as Ivan walks into the suite.

"Oh, good, you're awake," he grumbles, looking exhausted.

"What is it, Ivan?"

"Nicole is on the main line. I wanted to check if you wanted to take the call before I tell her no again. She has called for hours... rather furious. I tried to tell her you've retired, however, she knows the number to the main line."

"Has she said what she wants to speak about?"

"Samuel, sir."

I sigh, pressing my lips together. I know Nicole. She won't stop tonight. "I'll take it. Not here though," I say, glancing at the open doors leading to both my wife and child. "In my office."

...

"I'm sending her through now," Ivan murmurs over the phone. I sit down, nodding to myself.

"Thank you, Ivan."

Within seconds, I hear Nicole, she clearly believes she's still on hold.

"You ridiculous girl, you've spilled it everywhere. It's on my shoes. This will not come out now!"

I hear a faint I'm sorry from the young lady Ivan chose and sent to take care of Nicole.

"Nicole," I utter loudly.