Speak with his siblings

Stewart rubs his forehead, trying to chase away the growing headache. Could this day possibly be any more complicated?

As he contemplates this latest development, a page steps into the room and stands at attention, awaiting Stewart’s recognition. Stewart looks at him and bids him to speak.

“Excuse the interruption, Your Majesty, but your brother and sister await an audience with you, at your earliest convenience.”

Stewart stands, grateful for the interruption. “M’lords, we stand in recess. I will summon you again when I am ready to continue.”

The ministers stand and bow as Stewart leaves the room and heads to one of his nearby sitting rooms. As he walks in, he finds his siblings. Adella, although still distraught, has dried her tears and is a picture of solemn composure. Duncan, on the other hand, is sprawled over a large chair, one leg dangling over the chair’s arm. He is repeatedly tossing and catching a gold coin. Stewart knows his brother well enough to know that he is fidgety and attempting to distract his own thoughts.

When the siblings are alone behind closed doors, Adella speaks.

“Oh, Stewart! Can you believe what has happened?”

She rushes to him, and the two embrace.

“How is Mother?” asks Stewart, ashamed that he has been too busy to check on her.

“She is holding up quite well,” responds Adella. “She has been meeting with her advisors, sorting out details for the funeral. I don’t know how she does it.”

“Because she’s the frickin’ queen,” said Duncan, lazily. Stewart suspects his brother may have been grieving with the help of some brandy, judging from the way his words slur. “And what does it mean to be royalty if we don’t keep buggering on, even when everything else is falling apart!”

Adella gives her youngest brother a reproving look. “We all cope in our own way, Duncan. Mother is finding strength in her duty. I wish you would find it in something other than a bottle.”

“There are other ways I would like to cope with my grief,” replies the prince, “but evidently it would not be sufficiently ‘royal’ to be seen down at Kelly’s Brothel on a day like this.”

Stewart attempts to speak some calm into the situation. “This is a shock to all of us, and we will all get through it. The important thing is to be there for Mother and help her as she transitions into her new life.”

“I cannot believe she is moving to Doffenshire,” said Adella. “She always said she hated Grandmother’s old place.”

“Apparently she believes she will be in the way and impinge on my ability to rule on my own,” replies Stewart.

“There are already workers in my quarters, getting things ready to move into your — I mean, my — new rooms. I wish they would have given some advance warning. There were a couple of scullery maids still in there who were not in any state to receive guests!”

Adella’s face wrinkles in disgust. “I declare, Duncan! Are there any women in this household you have not bedded?”

Duncan smiles as he considers the question. “Well, there’s Duchess Fonterage — but don’t worry about me attempting to seduce our old nanny; she’s sacred, as far as I’m concerned.”

Adella snorts. “She’s also in a wheelchair and can only consume liquid meals.”

“Well, offering liquids to drink is my specialty,” replies Duncan, with a lecherous sneer.

Stewart remains quiet as his siblings bicker. Duncan’s comments about the room assignments remind him about his own change of accommodations — and about Chantelle. He is reasonably sure she made her way out of the room without being discovered, or he would surely have heard about it by now.

He stretches his arms and rotates his shoulders, attempting to work out the tension. With so many things happening at once, it is almost impossible to know where to start.