'You were where?!'

Ah, the lecture I've been waiting all night for. My grandmother slams the paper down on the breakfast table in front of me. My grandfather and father follow her, knowing there's nothing they could do to save me now. I am more dead now than any threat before this. They both look at me with a locked jaw, there's no humour this time.

I wince at the photograph, not because my hair doesn't look shiny enough, or because there's a spec of mud on my boots, two things I know my grandmother will have noticed already. I hate the front page because I'm ducking from the crowd, cowering from the cameras. I am running scared all over again.

'Alania?' I say weakly and Asher glares at me. My mother picks up the paper and begins to read to catch up as my grandmother's nostrils flare, furious at me, 'We didn't mean to go there, we were walking home and accidentally happened on it. We were leaving because we realised what it was.'

Well, kinda.

'A Moreau alliance rally?' My mother squints, Lars actually laughs quietly. I reckon he'd quite like to see us de-throned, it would benefit him in more than several ways.

'You should've told us before then we could've done some damage control Z.' My father says and my mother scoffs, her head in her hands. In my defence, I thought they'd know in seconds, I didn't realise it would come from the newspapers. An agent could have at least softened the blow for me.

'Percy, there's no damage control to fix this!' She says, also slamming down the newspaper even though this doesn't actually impact her or her family at all. It's not like dad's gonna have to bail on his child maintenance payments if he loses the throne, he doesn't pay any. It wouldn't make any sense, she's not taken care of me since I was a preteen, 'Honestly Marzia we talked about this. I was hoping you would've left this kind of immaturity back in London.'

I look at her, so does my father and my grandparents thinking maybe that was a little too far. To contrast, Lars looks quite proud of his wife, probably thinking the exact same thing as me. I toss my napkin onto my still fully loaded plate and glare at her.

'Maybe you should've just fucking left me in London then.'

Okay, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.

I probably should have apologised out loud but I'm angry and so instead I storm upstairs to my room and lock the door behind me. No one tries to knock this time and I take a wild guess that no one appreciated my language or my opinion.

That's probably a shock for my mother, I've always sort of left my backbone out of our conversations because there's no point having an argument over Skype. I've just let her have her way all the time because it never really impacted me much. Plus I bet no one has cussed her out this badly since the last time she got a death threat before Adanna was born.

My phone goes off and assuming it's Asher asking me where I am, or Emilio calling to berate me for my stupidity, I ignore it until it starts to buzz several more times to an annoying amount. I go to mute the noise when my cousin Benjamin's face appears on the pixels.

'Benjamin Bordeaux, how's my sixth favourite cousin?' I smile into the receiver.

'We both know that I at least break top five, minimum.' He retorts, 'I just have one question for you. On a scale of one to ten, one being forgetting to do the dishes, and ten being telling your mother to shite off, how grounded are you?'

'I didn't tell her to shite off. I just swore at her, so I'm settling on a comfortable seven.' I reply, thinking I've probably been everywhere on that scale prior to today, 'How did you even hear?'

'I have my sources.' He chuckles.

'Is that source your mother?' I mock him, 'Is there something you wanted Ben?'

'Yes. So now, add being on the front page of every national newspaper for supporting our political rivals on top of telling your mother to shite off, then where are we talking?' He says and I hear the rustling of newspapers in the background. I roll my eyes, I wasn't there to support them, obviously.

'Oh well that brings us right up to a twelve.' I tell him, and listen for thirty seconds as he hysterically laughs at my misfortune, 'Did you call just to take the piss? Because I've got a bodyguard now you know. He could really fuck you up.'

'Nah, I called because I'm outside. Come on, the cars running and I'm low on petrol.' He says before hanging up the phone. I wait for a moment, weighing up my options.

I could go out the front door but we have good guards now and they hardly ever fall asleep anymore - and they'd tell the king, or worse, the queen. I can't say sneaking out would go so well. I could just tell them I'm going but that wouldn't work either - Benji and I haven't always collectively made the best decisions when we're together and the papers don't need anymore ammo - plus he's right. I'm so grounded.

So realistically, my escape through the window was the only logical thing to do. Right?

I remember sneaking out of the castle when I was a kid for adventures around the grounds with my troublesome elder cousins but the path isn't natural to me. It takes me a few minutes to find the grooves for my hands to support my weight and every few seconds my phone buzzes with some version of a 'hurry up' text from Ben.

I have to wait a few minutes, watching the guards make their rounds of the grounds, until they disappear back out of sight. I know there'll be people watching monitors of the cameras that are everywhere, but I just have to hope that I'm faster. Ben will have been vetted as being the prince before he was allowed up to the castle, but I still don't fancy being held up at gunpoint with him.

It wouldn't even be the first time that's happened.

Eventually with pounding fingers and already chipped nail varnish, my feet land on the concrete of the courtyard below my balcony. I've worn my least 'princess-y' outfit in hopes of disappearing among every other person rushing around doing their last minute shopping two days before Christmas. I've got some dark jeans on, an old jumper from back home and Vans that Charlie left for when I grew into them. They're still a little big around the ankles but they'll do.

I jump down from the steps and begin to run my way around to the front. My room is in the west wing so I quickly send Ben a text to drive round to the side to meet me. Just as I'm about to call him to ask where his ass is, he pulls up alongside me.

If Benjamin Bordeaux is renowned for anything, it's his pride, so he continues to drive his shit car even though it's falling apart, simply because he saved up the money to buy it himself. The exhaust bangs every time he accelerates and sometimes he has to put his hands out of the window to indicate because his lights tend to break.

His brothers really like to take the piss, so I get weekly video updates every time they have to pick him up when the car breaks down on the highway.

He leans over, takes his foot off the clutch and boots the passenger door with his heel. It swings open, shooting me an embarrassed and apologetic look. The whole car lurches with the movement and it occurs to me that maybe I should try to scale the wall back up to my bedroom because it could be less dangerous.

Hell, telling my grandmother that I was sneaking out would be less dangerous than this piece of tin.

I slide in anyway and Ben completely covers me in a hug. Because they're not directly in line for the throne, because Rosie is younger than my dad, his mother, father and a whopping eight brothers aren't under as much public scrutiny as the rest of my family. As a result, they've all individually taken secret trips over to see me over the years, when we've travelled to a neutral country to meet them. The last time I saw Ben was when we were around sixteen and when he occasionally gets around to Skyping me.

'God, you got fat.' I chuckle as I get a full mouthful of his denim jacket from our unexpected embrace. I guess at this point I shouldn't be surprised when my long-lost family wants to hug me, but just once I hope it's me who instigates it so I'm not so taken aback by assaults to my face.

'Fuck off, it's muscle.' He says, shoving me back into my seat.

I realise now, in person how much I'm going to struggle to tell Ben and his brothers apart. It doesn't help that two of them are identical twins, but the nail in the 'I'm-going-to-get-you-mixed-up' coffin is that they all carry the same Castille genetics of brown hair and blue eyes that are so uncannily similar, that the eldest brother Jesse could easily pass for Charlie.

In spite of the fact that they're Bordeaux by marriage, their father's sons, their mother's Castille is still so obvious in their faces.

I pull my belt across my chest and it stops short when the buckle slides away from the torn fabric. Benjamin fusses for a moment, turning his music down and trying to get the car to start again, so he doesn't see my panicked attempt at fixing it. He notices after the car shudders again and chuckles.

'Don't worry, that's been broken for months. Just clip the buckle into the holder and tuck the belt under your arm in case we see the cops.' He says, as if this is a completely normal way to behave. If the police were to see us, we'd probably be able to blag our way out of it, but given my current reputation, a mugshot certainly would not help.

So I tuck the stupid belt under my arm and ride in extreme anxiety all the way back to Ben's house. And when I say house, I mean their city cabin, which, you're correct, is a very unusual oxymoron. They've got a huge old stone structure in the middle of a small woodland, which is their vacation home, if you will. Their real home is on the other side of the country in Abbottsville Bridge, and according to my grandfather at breakfast, they've come in specially this morning.

How my aunt Rosemary and uncle Montgomery have raised nine sons and none of them are obvious murderers yet, I deem very personally impressive. But the remaining beothers who meet me at the door however, are almost all conspirators for murder because being hugged by every single one of them at once almost suffocates me, both in arms and testosterone.

The twins are first out, having been washing a car in the driveway. Guaranteed they've been fucking with the younger boys again and this is their punishment. Or simply they're trying to kiss ass so they can learn to drive earlier. I learnt when I was fourteen, only a year younger than they are now, but Enoch and Kael have been told they're having to wait until the legal age.

It's a whole three years and they're furious about it.

Ben's not happy about it either, because he's pretty much their personal chauffeur, but Rosie has insisted the same rule for all her boys. I have to say, teasing Jonah and Jesse, the eldest brothers at twenty-one and twenty, that I'd ended up passing my driving test before they did was pretty fun. I say passing my test, Emilio was my instructor so technically I shouldn't be legal to drive anywhere.

Emilio shouldn't be legal to drive anywhere.

Before too long, the excited shouts of Ben and Enoch and Kael alert the rest of my extended family of my presence, who come rushing out in expectation of my arrival. The boys are considerably faster than Rosie, so she struggles to push her way through the crowd to hug me. Jesse and Jonah are nowhere to be found, but because they live over in Belgium, I assume they're not here yet.

Rosie bats the hand of Jonathan away from my shoulder and pushes her way past the two youngest boys, Max and Joseph, the latter being the littlest of the clan. Rosie's shoulder is thrust into my cheek by accident while she holds me tightly, and her hair begins to knot with mine as she swings me happily from side to side.

'Oh, my baby's home!' Rosie says with pure happiness in her voice.

'I think we've got way too many babies already, my darling.' Comes a way deeper voice than any of my male cousins. Behind Rosie is her husband Montgomery, a man not unlike my father, but much more of a family man, shown by the staggering number of kids they've had, 'Welcome home sweetheart.'

He joins in the hug and Hadley begins to complain that his father has stepped on his foot among all the confusion. There are so many faces, all so strangely alike, that it takes me a minute to place all of them.

Jesse and Jonah, the eldest boys live over in Belgium for work, in an apartment together that Emilio and I visited for a couple of days on our way home from Paris last year. It's not huge but they're very proud of it and from what I've heard, Jonah's girlfriend Isla, has pretty much moved in by now.

The next in line is Hadley, a sports prodigy which makes up for the fact that none of the rest of his brothers can throw a ball for shit. Rosie never had any of them professionally trained as agents so together, Hadley and I enjoyed thoroughly kicking their butts at sports when we were kids.

Benji's the next of their sons, the same age as me, beating me by only a few months. He's eighteen and came so close after Hadley that they're Irish twins. How Rosie got pregnant with Benjamin only two months after Hadley, I will never understand. She'll never admit it, but I bet almost half these boys were accidents.

Speaking of mistakes, then comes Jonathan, who is ultimately the stupidest of the boys, but also the most intelligent. He has no social skills for shit around girls, but his maths is top notch. He's already been accepted to hundreds of universities even though he's only sixteen still. I heard recently, he's actually made contact with a female woman, and I'm proud of him for that.

Then come the twins Enoch and Kael, who are both still vaguely damp from washing the car, and they smell like car shampoo. Kael has a screwdriver in his back pocket and I can only assume he's been taking apart the family computers again. Enoch told me he has almost a hundred hard drives around his bedroom like the beautiful nerd that he is. They're twins, and almost identical, but in personality they couldn't be further away.

That leaves us with only two boys left, the babies themselves, Max and Joseph at fourteen and twelve in that order, which finally rounds off all the children that Rosie's popped out over the years.

I'm suddenly very glad that I didn't bring Asher along on my adventure, because I'm pretty sure I'm right about all their ages, but having to test it in front of everyone to explain them to him wouldn't have been fun. Especially since as they've grown they all look so bloody similar.

If it wasn't for Enoch's wardrobe choices, I wouldn't be able to tell him and his twin apart. It's not even that Enoch dresses in a way that shows off his obviously and proudly gay personality, it's just that none of his brothers seem to care about fashion and Kael is never out of his backwards baseball hats, something I know Enoch is trying to bash out of him with every day that passes.

'Come on in!' Rosie says waving her hands, as if that's going to stop the tears streaming down her face. Her mascara is dotted underneath her eyes and it's one of the first times I've seen her cry in real life since my brother died, 'I can make you some lunch if you want some?'

'Oh, it's okay, I ate breakfast kinda late today, sorry.' I say feeling oddly nervous as I'm ushered inside with Rosie's arm tight around my shoulders.

'You don't have to say sorry for anything in this house my love, we're thrilled to have you back, even if it's only for a little while.' Rosie says, and then shorts herself as she realises what she's said, 'Not that I meant that I think they're going to send you back, I don't want them to-'

'We're positive, but cautious.' Monty leans over and kisses her cheek as she struggles to find the words to explain away her mishap, 'This isn't the first time they've told us you might be coming home Marzia, we've felt a little crushed a few times before over this.'

'They've told you I'm coming home before this time?' I say, completely confused. They've never mentioned any such thing to me the entire time I've lived in London, 'They never said anything to me.'

'Well of course they wouldn't have, they attempted it a couple of times just after you left and then again when you were fourteen, I think. I'm sure your father didn't want to upset you.' Rosie says, kissing my forehead and I swallow down the information, 'Speaking of my brother, how's he doing before his coronation?'

'He seems to be doing okay, there's a lot of planning he's got to work his way through. I sat with him in his office the other night and listened to one of his old records when he did his work, he hardly said a word. He seems pretty swamped.' I tell her, remembering the cosy night by the fire I spent reading and dad spent working like we used to.

'He's always so insistent on being involved in every last little thing, your father.' Rosie rolls her eyes comically as we reach the kitchen.

It's then that my brain catches up with the nervous feeling in my stomach. Jesse told me of the pictures when he came to visit a few years ago, and I know the boys have always tried to hide it from our Skype conversations when we've video chatted. Rosie isn't like my mother, or the castle's decorator, there are pictures of Chris everywhere.

I feel like I've been gutted. There have to be tens of rows of neatly lined up photographs of my brother, smiling, or covered in food when he's a child, or doing whatever the hell he used to do. There's framed photos too, family portraits, or pictures of him with the boys. His face is everywhere, his life is spread against these walls.

But it's not anything I haven't seen before, all except for one. I know this one exists, I think Jon mentioned it when I caught it out of the corner of my eye when I was fifteen and he sent me a photo of his new bike in the hallway. It's the very last photograph of my brother alive, it's me and him and Charlie and dad's just out of frame. It's the night we were taken. We're laughing and he's got a drink in his hand and it's bright.

God we're so happy, and he's not scared.

He spent every second we had in that warehouse trying to hide the fear on his face for me. And he never let up, not until the last minute he ever had alive. When the agents were closing in and we were thrown into the back of a van, he leant over to me and told me that this was it.

'We'll be safe now Marzia.' He whispered, 'Just wait and see, they're going to open these doors and we're going to walk out into the sunshine, just you and me, okay?'

I remember telling him that it was raining, it had stuck to our hair, our clothes were flat against our bodies. That was the last time I saw my brother without the blood, without the fear in his eyes. I really believe in my heart that he felt saved right then, in the back of that small van.

Then it crashed. It was a guttural sound, metal scraping against metal, an eclectic bending and overheating of flames and steel. My bones crushed and my lungs restricted and my body was thrown against a door that wouldn't let me out. I could feel my soul slipping away, terrifying but oh so real, bones protruding from broken skin and blood seeping into corners of a place I never should never have been.

I ran, Christoper ran after me, never letting my legs stop for too long. We ran so far it felt like we'd left the atmosphere, but the van couldn't have been more than a block behind us. I remember being grateful that the crash was fatal to the driver. I've felt guilty every day since that it was fatal to my brother.

He told me to keep running no matter what, but when I turned to see Christopher on the ground, I was at his side in seconds. He told me to move, but I couldn't if I tried. My knee was twisted in an unnatural way as if forcing me to ignore him and stay. There was a part of my soul that knew if I left my brother that I would never forgive myself. I only realised afterwards that this very part of my soul knew that my brother was going to die.

I couldn't breathe, neither could Christopher. I felt a hand gripping at my chest, a higher power trying to tell a twelve year old kid that the problem was in his lungs. There was no way I could have known that a tiny vein in his left lung had torn and he was drowning in his own blood. I wonder now if Christopher knew. I know now, just like I knew then that he felt it. He felt every fucking second of it.

He died painfully, in the middle of a road in the pouring rain. There is nothing and no one for me to thank for making his death a peaceful one because I have never seen more pain in one person. It felt like there was too much hurt, like it wasn't possible that so many nerve endings existed to burn him.

I would've taken every jolt of pain, every rattling breath, every single drop of blood that seeped into the pores of the earth, if he could've held my hand and smiled and passed away without the fear that I cannot forget in his eyes. He might have been my older brother, but was still only so small. He hadn't gotten married, or had his own family, he hadn't even finished his degree when his body broke down in the alley.

When he was born, he must have looked up at my mum and she must have counted her lucky stars that he had dad's eyes. Dad must have felt blessed every time he had mum's heart. There weren't stars or a heaven that night. There was nothing beautiful, there was no redeeming wilted dew the next morning. The world had ended, the stars had burned out and nothing was ever going to be the same again.

He was wearing the same suit he's wearing in the photograph, a white shirt that I saw stained with deep crimson. The crimson that stuck to my fingers and under my nails for weeks. He bled from cuts that wouldn't have killed him. I searched for a wound, I searched for a way to make it stop, but I could have never found it. His broken body bled all over the pavement, all over me and all over his finest dress shirt, and still none of it would've been enough to kill him.

The last moment he still had breath, the very last sixty seconds he had of oxygen, his eyes were wide and white, and his hands gripped my arms tightly. I was trying so hard to keep his heart working even if it didn't want to. He couldn't help himself, but keeping such a hold on me made me sure he was still awake.

It wouldn't have been enough.

I wouldn't have been enough.

I remember his hands letting go. They didn't fall to his sides like in the movies. His fingers relaxed and the pressure on my arms was released. I didn't stop trying to bring him back, I didn't know much CPR when I was twelve but I had the gist. His hands stayed around mine lightly as I tried to keep his heart beating.

I hate myself for being the last thing he saw, screaming for someone to help us, crying over his chest, impossibly scared of every reality that I've lived since that day.

I remember thinking that he had to be okay, he had to, because I don't know what I would've done if he wasn't. Every birthday would be empty, every Christmas would be too quiet, every day that he wasn't there I would've noticed and every second he didn't exist it would've felt like my world was ending.

I died with my brother that day. I died the second he died and I have died over and over again every day since.

I heard afterwards that I kept this up for sixteen minutes until someone happened to stumble onto us with the sound of the car crash after we'd run with the very last part of freedom either of us would ever feel. The report said he'd died two minutes into his fatal wound. They said the running had only killed him faster. I kept up the pace until the ambulance got there, even then I hardly let go.

Neither did Chris, his hands only let go when I was dragged away by an agent to get me to safety. I kicked and screamed and bit the agent, I needed to be with my brother, even though he was nowhere near me.

I had bruises on my hands from trying so hard, and a dislocated shoulder that sometimes still doesn't bend properly. In Christopher's autopsy, they had to interview me about the purple marks on his chest where I'd tried to bring back his soul. In these photos, we don't have those bruises, he doesn't have a tiny torn vein. He's about to die, and he's got no idea.

And me, so tiny still at twelve. I had no idea what was about to hit me. I was about to lose my brother, lose everyone I had ever cared about. I look at my arms, and my legs, they're weedy and knobbly and I'm as short as ever. I'm a kid, I have a middle parting in my hair and clip on earrings.

I was apparently old enough to move to another country with a stranger, but not old enough to have tiny holes in my ears. As if they could compare to the other marks that I'd collected on my body. So many scars and dents and broken parts.

A spine so twisted it might as well be made of wet spaghetti, a scar all the way from the bottom of my neck to the small of my back from countless operations to fit it, scars all along my wrists and ankles, rope burning and tearing the skin, a scar on the back of my head where hair didn't grow for a while. That little girl collected all of those, before she'd even hit puberty.

I was a fucking child.

'You okay little one?' Monty asks from behind me. Monty met Rosie back before any of this happened to my family and married her before it too. But he's never been anything other than one hundred percent in. If there was ever a stronger family in the face of adversity, it's Monty and Rosie and their nine rowdy sons.

'Yeah, sorry. Just looking.' I say having to push down some of the anger that I feel on behalf of that little girl. I follow the rest of the family into the living room. They've got sofas and cushions everywhere because otherwise eleven of them won't all fit. I take up a spot on a buffet by the wall and Ben flops down onto the floor beside it while Rosie starts to pull glasses out of a drinks cupboard and Monty brings through a jug.

I settle the anger in my stomach for the sake of a little girl I don't recognise anymore as me. That kid was a kid before she lost her brother, but she's pretty much been an adult since. They might have stolen a childhood, but they can't steal this moment. They can't steal being reunited with my family after so many years.

There's anger, sure. But I'm grateful too. If I hadn't left, I wouldn't enjoy hearing Max and Kael argue so much, even though they're always bickering. I wouldn't love the sound of Monty humming away to himself as he passes Rosie, somehow always a tune that fits the mood. He's humming Walking on Sunshine and I have to feel he's doing it on purpose.

I wouldn't have Emilio. Yes they've taken everything from me, and even more from Chris. But they can't have this and if I had to bet my life on one thing, it's that if Chris is anywhere, his soul is in every picture Rosie has hung up in her hallway.

'Has Rosie heard about what I did?' I whisper hopefully over to Ben, although she definitely has, confirmed by Ben's laugh and a nod of his head. I want to mock him for his mother really being the only source of his gossip but I don't want to annoy Rosie even more than I probably already have, 'Is she mad?'

'Oh please.' Enoch chuckles from the sofa beside me, 'You could come home with a face tattoo and she'd still be happy to see you.'

'No I wouldn't!' Rosie shouts from across the room without even looking up from pouring juice into glasses.

'So you're saying I can't shave my eyebrows off and tattoo 'east' and 'west' on there?' I tease her. Maybe it'd take some of the heat away from the fact that I'm somehow now my own political opponent.

'Do you remember the witch from The Wizard of Oz we used to watch when you were younger?' She asks. I nod as I struggle to see the relevance, 'That is exactly what your mother would become if I dared to bring you home with either shaved eyebrows or a tattoo.'

'Yeah but if you combine the two maybe she'll become the devil incarnate and wouldn't that be fun for everyone?' Jon pipes up and his mother sends him a look.

'I've been to hell several times in a dress already this week, I don't need to bring it to me if it's all the same to you Jon Boy.' I tell him.

'So thrilled that nickname has stuck even with our six year separation.' He rolls his eyes and flops back into his armchair.

'Speaking of dresses, my mother refuses to send me a photo of you in your coronation gown in case it gets to the press. Which I can't say would be a first.' She glares at her sons, remembering how they accidentally leaked her very own 2013 gala dress by hacking into a newspaper's email which just so happened to hack them back. Who would have thought?

Kael might be good at taking apart computers, but he's definitely not good at installing protection on them. He just wanted to see what articles they were about to release on us, I suppose he thought he was helping. It was an unfortunate accident when they very easily hacked him back.

It was a bad month for my grandmother to have CC'd him into emails containing photos of everybody's outfits. He wasn't allowed a computer from his feeble age of thirteen pretty much until earlier this year, and even when he got one, my grandmother has refused to talk to him any other way than face to face.

'I don't actually think I have a photo, I think Asher does-' I pause.

Oops.

'Asher?' Aunt Rosie says, glancing over at me. She swiftly kicks one of her son's legs from the coffee table onto the floor. She sits down, a steaming mug of tea in her hands as she raises her eyebrows at me, 'That bodyguard that's supposed to never leave your side?'

I bite my lip and exchange a look with Benjamin. He probably didn't know about Asher given that he shoots me a look of irritation, I've probably gotten him a little into trouble. In my own defence, he just appeared outside, I didn't really have any choice. I don't know why it matters anyway, I can't think of the last time Benjamin ever followed a rule.

'Yeah, that's the one.' I admit and Rosie nods with that 'don't make me tell you I'm disappointed in you' look. I pull out my phone and grumpily open the messages app, 'I'll call him and let him know where I am, happy?'

'Oh don't worry, you'll be safe here.' Rosie waves her hand. I frown but shrug, any time without Asher is a win. The doorbell rings and Rosie gets to her feet with a smile, a smile I dread to recognise, 'Plus your dad already called to ask where you were, this should be Asher now.'

I let out a noise that resembles a muted scream and throw myself backwards into my chair. An hour, just an hour without Asher, is that too much to ask for? Rosie might have done this for my benefit, but I bet it's really because she just wanted to see the photo of me in my dress. She's sneaky, but she's transparent.

'What's the problem about your bodyguard being here? Isn't he just some stuffy old guy that we can just stick in the corner?' Max says with a shrug as if that wouldn't be rude no matter how old Asher was.

'Most of the time, I'm really proud of how we raised you boys.' Monty says from his place standing by the fire to heat the back of his legs. He points at Max, 'Except you, you're a dick.'

The other boys fall apart laughing. As many siblings do, they have bets on which of the children is their parent's favourite. You'd be surprised that no one put their dead pool on Maximillian Bordeaux.

'Boys! Don't be rude! Come say hello to Asher!' Rosie shouts from the other room. I roll my eyes again.

'Asher? No, his name is agent.' I complain as I follow the crowd that moves towards the kitchen. This house is a maze of little corridors and stairs leading up to the bedrooms so the little twelve year old me struggles to recognise the walls. By the time I'd reached the kitchen, many of the boys had already introduced themselves to Asher, who looked more than annoyed by the time he saw me.

'Ah princess,' Asher says with sarcasm dripping among his words. Rosie being the beautiful oblivious woman she is, smiles at his politeness toward me, 'This game of hide and seek we're playing really needs the rules clarifying. I think it's the most effective when I actually know that you're hiding.'

His snarky smile goes completely over Rosie's head and she giggles, gripping both of his shoulders in a friendly way with a smile that seems bigger than when she saw me, 'Asher, can we fix you some lunch? I do a wonderful roast.'

I want to point out that I wasn't offered a roast, or that cooking an entire roast for a guest is insane but I keep quiet.

'That would be lovely Mrs Bordeaux,' He says, continuing to speak before Rosie can insist that Mrs Bordeaux is her mother-in-law's name, 'But Marzia is needed back at the palace this afternoon for the lesson in current politics that her grandmother organised.'

'What?' I ask. My grandmother didn't mention anything about that in between screaming at me this morning, but you'd think she'd at least have mentioned it yesterday during my day briefing. Lord knows we had enough time to chat while Ernesto 'fixed' me for the morning, 'Since when did I have a lesson on politics? Since when did we decide I needed one?'

'It was arranged as of recent events I believe.' He tells me, hinting at my complete stupidity in the world of Alanian monarchical politics. There's a snide tone to his voice, 'All set up for you this morning.'

Hopefully he's not mad at me too.

'Well I could drive you guys back over.' Benjamin says, clearly bored being cooped up in the family home. He told me that Rosie's apparently being cautious about letting the boys out by themselves. They've only had a few vague threats in the past, but I get it. Our family track record sort of speaks for itself, 'I have a few things I need to do in the city.'

'Can we come back afterwards?' I say, looking around at the cousins that I've hardly had a chance to catch up with yet. Plus there's nine of them, it's going to take me a while. Enoch has a boyfriend I want to hear all about, Benjamin didn't get through a story he was telling me about his girlfriend, especially about the dress she was going to wear in two days, and Joey I haven't properly seen since I was practically able to hold him in two hands.

'We'll be attending the celebration of the king's rule tomorrow night, up at your grandparents palace. I don't think Lars and the children are coming, but your mother said she'd stop by. You're coming, aren't you?' Rosie reminds me, a party my grandmother definitely told me about, but unbelievably diminished in importance in her story.

'Oh sure.' I nod, before turning to Asher, 'When's the lesson?'

'It's not until three, we have a few more hours before we have to go anywhere.' He says and looks over at my aunt, clearly wanting the brownie points for allowing us more time together, despite the fact he obviously had nothing to do with our appointment time.

'Brilliant! Come through, Asher. We've heard so much about you.' Rosie tells him and begins to lead him through to the living room before I can ask if he can leave and come back later. I follow them, making sure the sulk is evident on my face. Enoch bumps my shoulder and wiggles one of his eyebrows.

'What's going on there, then?' He asks me, standing in my way and crossing his arms over his chest. Benjamin stops behind us, and his ears prick up at the slightest hint of gossip, 'He's cute, I'm proud of you.'

'Wait, Zia got a guy?' Jon says, ducking his head around the corner. He says it way too loudly, and I'm sure Asher will have heard, so I shush him and glare around at my cousins.

'Why is that so hard to believe?' I say, slapping Jonathan's arm, 'But no, he's just a guy I knew from back in London, that's all.'

'A guy you knew from London?' Jonathan mocks me with a look of pure doubt on his face, 'Sure. I could've cut the sexual tension in that kitchen with a knife.'

'Ah yes, the sexual tension we were so clearly feeling talking about politics lessons in front of my entire extended family.' I say, rolling my eyes at the ridiculous implication, 'If anything, what you felt was actual tension, because I hate him.'

'Oh princess, how this game of hide and seek really tickles my fancy! Sure, no tension at all. Plus how could anyone hate those cheekbones?' Enoch says, looking wishfully after Asher, jokingly extending his arms as if hugging him, 'And those arms, someone give me strength.'

'That's enough of that, thank you.' Benjamin scowls, shoving Enoch into the wall, which responds with a thud, 'From now on, you're not allowed to talk to the agent.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, does your toxic masculinity make you feel uncomfortable about a man sharing his feelings for another man?' Enoch replies sassily, hands on his hips, even though he knows Ben has no problem with his raging homosexuality. Ben was actually the first person he ever told.

'No, it's because he's eighteen, and you're fifteen, there's that small matter of, you know, the law. Also Marzia has definitely already called dibs, no matter what she says.' Ben reminds his brother, in between dodging blows from my angry fists, 'And, I don't wanna hear any of you talk about sexual tension ever again.'

'Just cause you and Poppie are pretty much already an old married couple.' Enoch teases.

'Yeah, Ben and Poppie are old just because they don't still ask mum to wash their clothes and need driving to their date nights.' Jonathan shoves Enoch and I know quite how deep that joke is going to cut, considering Enoch's boyfriend Keaton recently failed his driving test.

Enoch likes to tell his family that it's so they can go on day trips without one of his brothers, but really it's so they can have some time alone without Rosie banging on the wall every five seconds to remind them of the 'open door' policy in the house. Whatever the reason, I had to listen to a twenty-five minute rant about it the last time I Skyped Enoch back in London.

We finish the walk back through to where Rosie has already set Asher up with a cup of coffee and placed him awkwardly beside Monty, who is so tall even sitting, that he makes Asher look less than four foot. I flop down next to Kael who has already begun to fiddle with the latest handheld device he got for his birthday.

'So Marzia, how do you and Asher know each other? Your father told me he was appointed as your bodyguard because you were already friends.' Monty asks.

'Bodyguard or boyfriend?' Max chuckles into Enoch's shoulder, clearly having overheard our earlier comments. Rosie catches his eye and squeezes her smile onto her tight lips, telepathically warning him not to embarrass their family. I think it's safe to say I embarrassed our family enough in the six years Asher and I have known each other, so it doesn't really matter.

'Can you get him to shut up?' I ask Rosie.

'At present, I have been unable to make him do that.' She replies.

I look over at Asher with the intention of rolling my eyes in annoyance, but stop once I see the expression on his face. He's looking around the boys, almost as if in fear of them. Maybe it's how many of them there are, but Jesse and Jonah aren't even here yet, so there really aren't a considerable amount of boys in a room compared to the crowds he hangs out with back at Thorne Academy.

It could be that he's intimidated by my aunt and uncle, given their status as Prince and Princess, but he's recently met the King and Queen of his country, and hasn't as much as flinched. Is it the volume? It can't be, most of the boys are sitting patiently for something to contribute to the conversation the way they've always been taught is polite, and aside from Kael shrieking when Jonathan shoves him over on the sofa to give himself more room, they're mostly quiet.

Are his trousers too tight? Has the vein in his forehead finally burst? Has he suffered his mid-life crisis a few years too early?

Then, when Rosie puts her hand on his arm comfortingly as she apologises on behalf of her rude son, I realise exactly why Asher looks like he's drowning. He is drowning for the exact same reason that I feel like I am flying. I am back with my family after so many years apart, but for Asher, it's different.

He's not reconciling with his family, he's having to accept that this is something that is completely unfamiliar to him. He's confused for the first time in his life. Trigonometry, no problem. Shakespeare's longest and most convoluted sonnets? Easy-peasy.

But understanding a happy family dynamic? How is he supposed to interpret something that he has never before experienced? From being only seven years old, when memories are so easily escapable, Asher has never had a mother and a father, and I'm assuming no siblings, considering his parent's disappearance.

His aunt told me herself, he calls her 'Miss Van Doren', never anything with familiarity or affection. Maybe the whole time I thought he was really a robot, he was. Just not by his own choice, by the earth shattering disappearance of the two people who are meant to love you the most. Sure, I didn't have my parents for years, but at least I knew where they were, and that I was loved, maybe more than I knew.

My heart aches with the sudden realisation. Asher doesn't know how to have a family.

'Ash and I were friends back at our old school.' I tell my aunt, 'I got picked on when I first got there, and he helped to get it all to calm down. Made sure no one was on my back, and that I knew where my classes were. Since, he's always just kept an eye out to make sure I was okay.'

Asher looks at me and squints slightly, probably trying to figure out why I would say this to my family. The boys make some kissing noises that I ignore and force myself to keep looking at Asher. I wait a few seconds and when he smiles, I hope he has understood my intentions. He's been desperate for my family's approval since he got here, and maybe it's time for me to start helping him out with that.

'What a gentleman you are.' Rosie says to him sweetly, 'Hopefully over the course of your trip, my boys might learn a thing or two from you.'

'Surely anything we haven't learnt is a reflection on what you've taught us?' Jonathan squints.

'Or that you didn't listen.' Joey chirps up from beside me.

'Kiss ass.' He growls back, and Monty kicks his foot to make him shut up and move across so there's room for Ben to sit back down from his trip over to grab me a drink.

'So Marzia, I've been thinking,' Rosie begins, shuffling herself further onto the sofa so she can tuck one foot under herself comfortably. If anyone ever wanted to know where I picked up my bad habits, well, you'd be looking at the culprit, 'Since we can actually see you for your birthday this year, I was wondering what it is you might want. It's not every year you turn eighteen!'

I smile, because I hadn't actually thought about this. Even though my birthday is December twenty-seventh, I don't actually usually receive presents from my family until April. Someone at some stupid agency meeting sometime, once suggested that surely people would be looking out for parcels passed through the agency around my birthday and decided, just to be safe, that they'd send them a few months later to throw off the scent.

Honestly, at this point, if someone were able to track a new set of paint brushes through the ACS all the way back to Emilio and I in London, I'd be inclined to hand myself over and admit defeat. That's way too much effort to go to, and it proves they're way more invested in finding me than I am in staying hidden.

It's only fair really.

'Oh, I'm not really bothered.' I shrug uncomfortably, because I notice the way Asher's ears prick up a little at the reminder that my birthday is soon, 'I'll just be happy to spend it with you guys.'

'The translation of that is 'new paints like every year please, because I'm boring'.' Maximilian chuckles from the corner, 'You don't have to be modest here, Zia.'

'It's not modesty, I'm serious.' I defend myself and he rolls his eyes, 'The next time you're away from your entire family for six years, then I'll ask for your opinion.'

'I would kill for six years away from this family.' Hadley laughs and Monty shoots him a stern look, even though he's joking.

'That's fine, because as soon as mum finds out you're failing your classes, you'll have to flee the country anyway.' Kael says, hardly looking up from his phone.

'What?' Rosie and Monty chime in together and Hadley's jaw drops as he stares over at his brother, waiting for a punchline that I can tell isn't coming.

'I hacked your university dean's computer.' Kael shrugs, tapping away on the screen in front of him, 'His password was his daughter's name, it was weak. Which I think was also coincidentally a comment left on your recent assignment.'

'You shit!' Hadley growls, preparing to lunge himself at his brother.

'Hadley Verona Bordeaux, I'll wash your mouth out with soap in a second!' Rosie tells him.

'So Marzia can tell her mum to fuck off, and I can't say shit?' Hadley squints, and I shoot him daggers for bringing back up my indiscretion this morning.

'Hadley!' Monty says sternly, 'Don't try and deflect the subject - are you failing your classes?'

'Just one-'

'Four.' Kael interrupts.

I watch Hadley turn an even deeper shade of purple and clench his fist as if punching Kael would achieve anything. Kael bruises like a peach because he's vitamin D deficient from never leaving his room, and then Hadley would find himself in even more trouble. I'd like to offer my help to diffuse the situation, but since Hadley just tried to throw me under the bus, I'm happy to sit back and let it run him over, then reverse, and then run him over again.

'Four classes?' Monty says loudly. Rosie has a hand on her head, and I watch as Asher shows the tiniest bit of amusement in his face at the family argument. I catch his eye and shrug a little, but he just smiles at me.

Beside me, Kael seems unaffected by Hadley's threatening glares, and I wonder what Hadley must have done to him recently to wind him up this much. Kael has been known to hack things regularly, but I can't think why he'd do it without reason, much less bring it up so casually at afternoon tea.

'If you look at it objectively, it's not really four-'

'You're right, it's five. Technically, he's also failing gym, but I didn't mention that one because I don't count sports as academic enough to even level up.' Kael says and not for the first time, it's becoming obvious why some of the boys really dislike him on occasion.

'Man, what did I do to make you hate me?' Hadley gestures over to Kael, who looks up for the first time, jaw clenched.

'That last slice of pizza was mine.' Kael growls and I flop my head back onto the sofa, noticing how this level of pettiness is really, unfortunately, a family trait of ours. If I was Kael, honestly, I probably would've done the same thing.

'You hacked into the university dean's computer, just because he ate your slice of pizza?' Rosie squints, looking between her sons and probably wondering which of them she hates more right now.

'It was mine!' Kael defends himself.

'We're also not going to easily gloss over the fact that you're hacking government websites again, Kael.' Monty says, pointing over at the fifteen year old, who has clearly made a mistake here. He continues typing away on his phone, seemingly ignoring the family now that he's made his point. Monty rolls his eyes, 'Kael, can you pay attention?'

'In just a second,' He says, holding up a finger, 'I'm live tweeting the insanity of our family reunion.'

Without a beat, Monty leans over and snatches the phone from Kael's hands. He makes a sound of protest, but the look he receives is enough for him to sit back, accepting that he's not the all-knowing angel he was hoping to be at the end of this conversation.

I chuckle a little and Joseph rests his head on my arm as he grins at his brothers. The nonchalance of the other boys leads me to thinking I'm in for many more discussions just like this one now that I'm home. Enoch pushes Kael's shoulder for being a snitch, given that I know Kael has a hundred secrets on Enoch that he doesn't want getting out.

'We'll be talking about this later.' Rosie points over to Hadley and he slumps back, crossing his arms and glaring at Kael.

'Yes, this will definitely not be the end of this.' He says in a threatening way. Kael turns a little white, and realises that his target wasn't the best, considering he might be failing his gym class, but Hadley still took boxing this semester. You can't learn nothing in classes like those.

'So Marzia, how are you finding being home?' Monty says, moving the conversation along, because he knows that as relaxed as his wife is, she'll still be embarrassed about her son's arguing in front of Asher and me, 'Has your grandmother made you attend any meetings, about the future?'

'Have they invited you to any of the Illuminati meetings yet?' Jonathan looks over.

'Not yet.' I joke back, but Max's eyes widen slightly as he glances between us both, 'But I'll be allowed any day now. Want me to pass anything along?'

'Yeah, tell them I'm not the biggest fan of what they did to J.F.K. I think Kennedy could have done wonders for the US.' He laughs, and even though Max watches us joke, he still moves his eyes suspiciously around the room to clock the faces of his parents as we talk.

'Maybe ask them about assassinating the Moreau clan?' Ben suggests, but then clicks his fingers, 'Oh wait, I forgot. You're one of them now.'

'Benjamin, don't joke about such things.' Rosie scolds him, 'Imagine if someone were to hear you say something awful like that.'

'I guess we'll just have to kill the bodyguard then.' Hadley laughs, and Asher smiles a little as he becomes more familiar with the nine boys' sense of humour, 'Or we'll just put him in a car with Benjamin.'

'What?' Asher asks.

'Nothing.' I interrupt, knowing that by all probabilities, Benjamin is our ride home, and Asher doesn't trust anyone's driving anymore, after Emilio's, so I don't want any reason to scare him like a little deer in headlights.

Which also wouldn't be an unfamiliar sight for Benjamin Bordeaux.

'The bodyguard has a name, please Hadley. Let us not be rude to our guest.' Rosie says and I can tell there's going to be snappy comments and raised voices as soon as we're gone, because as much as they're different, a common trait for Bonnie and Rosie is that they both hate to be embarrassed, 'You and Asher must have been friends for a long time then, if you knew each other from school.'

'Six years.' I nod. Asher grins a little at the continued lie that I promised Emilio.

'I think that's brilliant.' Rosie smiles, 'And you didn't know about each other's ancestry?'

'I mean, I knew he was Alanian, but Emilio always told me he was never associated with his heritage, so I never thought to mention it.' I shrug.

'And Asher, you never knew who Marzia was?' Monty asks.

'I had no idea, I didn't even know she was Alanian. From what she said, I thought she was Italian.' He nods, and smiles reflectively. I frown, because I think I only ever mentioned that once in passing when I didn't complete my homework and tried to find some kind of excuse. It was long and convoluted and included the leaning tower of Piza falling over onto my notebook, and I'm honestly surprised that he remembered it, 'I almost passed out right there on her bedroom floor when I found out.'

'Bedroom huh?' Enoch wiggles his eyebrows and I squint over at him, showing everything just short of an actual slap across his pretty little face.

'It's incredible, isn't it Monty?' Rosie grins, 'It really shows the strength of the Alanian blood.'

'You know,' I laugh, 'I think you're the first person to say that. Wouldn't you agree, Asher?'

'No one's ever put it like that before.' He chuckles.

'Wait, I thought Asher was the name of the guy you hated over at Thorne?' Benjamin says confused, probably more so because of what I said in the hallway about hating him, 'You've complained about him for years.'

'It's a different guy, there's two Ashers.' I cover up, hoping they won't remember the amount of times I've dropped Asher's last name into conversation, or his familial ties to the headmistress or the school's heritage.

'Yeah, no one likes that guy.' Asher chuckles.

I nod, 'Yeah, total asshole.'

'Speaking of language, young lady.' Monty says, raising his eyebrows at me, 'Your father asked me to tell you that you upset your mother, and he thinks it would be nice for you to apologise to her this evening.'

'She's really mad?' I ask timidly, wondering quite how much my outburst has hurt her.

'I think she felt bad really,' Asher inputs, having dealt with the aftermath when I stormed off and proceeded to disappear, 'She's worried about how you're adjusting to being home. I told her it's probably just teething issues, you know. Trying to fit back into something you've been apart from all this time. She understands.'

'You didn't have to lie for me.' I tell him, even though I'm grateful that he took the time to soothe my mother the way I didn't.

'I didn't.' He says.

It occurs to me that perhaps Asher and I are struggling in similar amounts on the trip, more than either of us expected. I haven't told him about my insomnia since we got here, and I don't think he believed me that I'd fallen asleep reading when he found me having slept in the library instead of my own bed the night before last.

I just hope someone is yet to notice the pillow and blanket I've set up at the very entrance of Chris' bedroom, if they have, no one has told me off for sleeping in there.

I look down guiltily in my hands, remembering the time that I accidentally heard my mother talking about me when she had forgotten to log out of Skype one evening. She'd turned to Lars and started crying, wondering aloud if I was ever going to be her little girl again. I should've realised at the time that she wasn't worried about me having lost my childhood.

She'd been worried that she was no longer needed as my mum.

For the hundredth time since I was taken away from her arms, I feel a longing for my mum. I need to curl up into her the way a child does, to remind both of us that no matter what we've been put through, we're always going to need each other. I look over at Asher, who smiles gently, as if knowing that this thought is going through my head.

'Do you mind if I go see her?' I ask Rosie, and she looks over at me with a sad smile on her face, 'I think there's a conversation we need to have.'

'Go be with your mother, Lord knows you've waited long enough.' She tells me, and I stand up and hug her, 'We'll be right here whenever you need us.'

I try not to let myself cry, but I can see in her eyes that she knows they're on the verge. She only hugs me quickly, instinctively knowing that she is not the motherly figure I need right now. She takes my face in both hands and kisses my cheek.

'We'll see you tomorrow evening, my darling.'

I take my time hugging all my cousins goodbye and apologising for the fleeting visit. They all assure me they'll see me tomorrow and that they understand. I hate that they're seeing me vulnerable, but maybe that's exactly my problem. I've spent so long dealing with my issue on my own that I don't know how to accept any help anymore.

'Ben, are you okay to give us a ride back?' I ask him. Asher's already told me that an agency car dropped him off so without ringing one, we have no way of getting back. Ben shrugs and nods, picking up a jacket and jangling his pocket to make sure his keys are in there.

'Can I join? I haven't seen grandma in a while and I need her opinion on my suit for the coronation.' Enoch asks, throwing a denim jacket over his cardigan. We look at him, waiting for the real reason he wants to tag along, since he's never asked for approval for any of his outfits, 'Also, can you drop me off at Keaton's on the way home? He needs help getting his suit ready.'

'Sure, but you've gotta pitch in for gas.' Benjamin tells him, kissing his mother on the cheek and setting off out the door.

'Dickhead.' Enoch rolls his eyes but follows his brother anyway, 'Hey, you still owe me for pizza the other day.'

I chuckle as Rosie kisses my head goodbye and pushes us away to Benjamin's death-mobile. It's cold and so Kael throws a scarf after his twin even though it's bright blue and I know Enoch won't wear it because it doesn't go with his 'set-palette' of clothing colour schemes.

'Your cousins are amusing.' Asher whispers to me. I'm sure he's only saying it to try and calm himself, but he reminds me just how lucky I am to call them my own.

I laugh out loud, waiting with excitement to see Asher's reaction to Benjamin's driving, 'You haven't seen anything yet.'

*

'Are you okay to hang out with the boys for a bit? Just while I talk to mum.' I ask Asher when we finally reach the castle. Enoch has already gone ahead to find our grandmother, but Ben has stayed back to wait for Asher, per my subtle request in the car.

'As long as I never have to get in a car with Benjamin ever again, I'll do anything you want.' He smiles back at me. I laugh, having expected this response. He thought Emilio's driving was bad, and this takes that up another hundred miles an hour. Literally, Benjamin isn't so good with speeding limits.

For a moment, there's a second where our eyes catch. Without discussion, or real forethought, we lean into each other and wrap our arms around each other for a hug unlike anything we've attempted before. I'm holding him to keep his pain at bay, and without realising, he's doing the same for me. I don't even think about the bashing I'm going to get for this later, and how quickly Ben will be informing his brothers.

He might even be taking a photograph for their family group chat, but I couldn't really care less. I want to show Asher, even in some small way that I understand without needing words or explanation. I can tell he feels the same, the steady thump of his heart repeats it back to me as if it were morse code we created ourselves.

'Just be honest with her, and you'll do fine.' He tells me before I let go. Ben comes up behind us and claps Asher on the shoulder. He must sense the peace in the air, because thankfully, he doesn't make any jokes or inappropriate noises.

'Ready pal?' Ben asks him, and Asher looks between the two of us with a nervous grin, 'Your little protect-ee has asked me to give you the full tour of the castle, including the statues out back of all our ancestors which I'm sure you'll find absolutely riveting.'

He doesn't want to do it, but I begged him and eventually I resorted to blackmail, offering that I wouldn't tell his girlfriend Poppie about the time he wet himself from laughing when we were eleven, and I had to promise I wouldn't show her the video, for him to eventually agree to the extended grand Benjamin Bordeaux royal tour. They could give me the rest of the week and I don't think I'll be able to tell my mother everything I feel like I need to.

I wave the boys off and trod up the stairs, where one of the maids has already informed me, my mother is. She told me I'd find her in one of the spare suites up on floor six, and I wonder if she's gone up there to sleep, or if she was blowing so much fire out of her ears that they had to put her up there for safe keeping. The maid was also kind enough to inform me that Lars isn't here, so that's also an encounter I'm glad to be without.

I frown as I see a maid walking into the room beside the one my mother is in, carrying what looks like Asher's suitcase. I crane my neck, but the maid is too busy making the bed to notice me.

I find the bedroom that was pointed out to me and knock gently on the wooden frame. I hear my mother's voice from the other side beckoning me in and so I push on the heavy door. She's sitting beside a chest of drawers, filling the boxes there with clothing that seems eerily familiar to me.

When she sees me standing in the doorway, she stands up and straightens her dress down. I want to give my mum a hug, but I don't know how welcome that would be right now. She stands silently, just looking at me. I feel like I'm in a glass case at a museum the way she stares. I might as well grow a tail and start licking myself clean in the painful silence until she speaks.

'Thank you for coming back.' She says.

'I was only over at Rosie's house, it didn't take long.' I shrug, not understanding the formality of her tone of voice, having only heard it in business meetings and occasionally when my father really isn't listening to her.

'I don't mean from Rosie's.' She tells me. I look over at her and for the first time, notice the tears in her eyes, 'After you'd left, I spoke to Asher and he suggested that maybe you were finding it harder to adjust that we realised.'

'I don't think it's that serious.' I say, and as the words leave my mouth, I'm painfully aware that this is not what I came to say at all, in fact, it's the direct opposite.

'I called Emilio.' She says. My heart feels like it's rattling around in my ribcage as I worry what it is that he might have told her, 'He said that when you first found out you were coming home, coming here, that you were nervous. I'm sorry I didn't recognise that for you.'

'It's okay-'

'No, it's not okay. I want you to forgive me Marzia.' She says and one tear lands on the chest of her dress and stains the light pink darker temporarily, 'I have had a lot longer than you to get used to this life. I always suspected it might be easier for you, because of your birth right, but like many things, it appears I was wrong.'

She takes a rattling breath.

'When they took you away from me, I reacted badly. I had to still be a mother, even though I didn't have my children anymore. I'd lost Christopher, and was going mad with worry about Charlie, he was still so little and so devastated about Chris, I couldn't fathom how he was supposed to survive by himself. The only consolation I had, was that you were safe, and I knew that for certain.'

There's a noise from downstairs and she pauses for a moment, before shaking her head and retracing her train of thought. The sun is right in my eyes as the morning drags on and I feel ashamed to be standing here so exposed, in front of the woman who should know the most about me, but doesn't.

'I took so much solace in that, that I felt you didn't need my grief. I believed that the safest place for you was with Emilio in London. I might have been right, but I handled it all wrong. I felt that your brothers needed my help, when really, there is nothing I could've done for Christopher, and Charles was an adult, whether I wanted to treat him like one or not.'

'Mum, you don't have to do this.' I tell her as she attempts to stifle a sob.

'Yes, I do,' She continues, even though I don't know whether or not I want her to, 'You were so small. You were only a few years older than Adanna, and I abandoned you. I know you felt the resistance when we called, I could feel you pulling away from me, and I don't blame you. I know you always put on a brave face for me, and I was comfortable telling myself that you didn't need me. So without realising, I stopped being your mum when you needed me most. And I never told you-'

'You did.' I admit grimly, after holding onto the secret for so long. I can't tell myself to be honest, and carry on keeping this from her. She looks at me, confused, but waits patiently for me to explain, 'You forgot to press 'end call' once when we were talking. You turned to Lars and told him that you weren't my mum anymore.'

Mum lets out a loud weep that she attempts to hide, by putting her hand over her mouth.

'Oh Marzia,' She cries, 'You were not supposed to hear that, that is not something a child of your age should've heard. You weren't old enough to deal with any of these adult problems, and yet I just left you to figure them out alone, because it was easier for me to pretend you were alright if we never talked about why you weren't.'

'Those weeks you were missing, just before your brother died,' She hiccups, 'I thought they were the worst weeks of my life, and after Christopher's funeral, I couldn't find words to describe how much worse this was than before. So I didn't try. I never talked about it, not with Lars, or your father, or my mother. I don't know if you needed someone to tell those things to, but I should've been the one to offer, and I wasn't.'

'I had Emilio.' I tell her, trying to take away some of the guilt radiating around her.

'And I couldn't be more thankful that he was a parent to you all the years I couldn't be.' She says, even though I've never seen Emilio as my dad, only a brother, or the drunk uncle that makes everyone laugh, 'I knew you were terribly sad, and needed me more than ever, and I was selfish and abandoned you for the sake of my own sanity.'

'I rationalised it, thinking I needed to be a good mother to the children I had at home, Adanna, and more so when I fell pregnant with Tegean.' She holds her breath for a moment, 'I cried over the phone that day, because I thought you didn't need me to be your mother anymore. But I cried more because I knew that was my fault. Because you felt forgotten, all because I had forgotten you.'

'It wasn't your fault mum.' I say, with tears now falling at a rate only slightly slower than my mothers.

'It was, and I can never take that back.' She shakes her head, as if reprimanding herself, 'I don't know when you first kissed a boy, or got your period, or felt heartbreak. I don't know your favourite film or the song that always makes you cry. But I can tell you your height and weight and school grades. I traded reports of you, for the real you. But you didn't have reports on me. I don't blame you for thinking I am a stranger Marzia, because I made myself one.'

'When She Loved Me.' I tell her.

'What?' She asks, sniffing, even though before today, it would be something she frowned upon.

'The song that always makes me cry. When She Loved Me, from Toy Story 2.' She waits a moment.

'That's one of Tegean's favourite films.' She says with a hint of a smile, 'It was yours too, when you were younger. I remember all twelve years of you growing up Marzia, and without thinking, I assumed you would too. But you don't remember the nights I spent reading you to sleep, or teaching you to swim, your brain was too small to keep those memories close. You only remember the me that divorced your father, and had another baby, and was constantly worried.'

'I don't think anyone would blame you.' I tell her.

'But you blame me,' She says. I want to disagree, but I can't. She's right down to the finest details, 'I didn't want to leave you in London, that I had no choice over. But with the life we had, I should've worked a million times harder than I did. I don't want you to go away ever again. However long it takes for you to get to know me, even if you can never see me as your mother again, I will work harder than anyone ever has. So-'

She steps aside and behind her is a pile of clothes that I now see are mine. I take a second to look around and realise that, even though this isn't my room, most of my belongings are now in here. Panic rises for a moment when I see the bed.

'I can't expect you to come home and fit into a family that I've so long moulded to forget our past. I won't forget your brothers anymore, I will not forget you anymore.' She gestures behind me, to where there's a large photograph of me and my brothers that was put in the attic years ago when mum couldn't find a place to put it in the castle.

The room is white, plain for me to decorate it however I want. Mum's framed a photograph of me and Emilio beside my bed, and filled my cupboards with jumpers instead of dresses. I take note that finally she has let go of the image of me she so long held on to, and has accepted me, not as the daughter she lost, but as the daughter that girl grew up to be.

'You don't need to fit into this family, because this family needs to work harder to fit you. Asher says you're not sleeping in your bed.' She says. The little bastard did notice. 'And you never liked those pink drapes even when you were twelve. So here's your room, with your bodyguard next door to keep you safe, in a house that is filled with a family that is never going to leave you or desert you ever again, okay? You need us, and we're right here.'

I can't stand it anymore. I need to hug my mum. I correct myself. I don't need to hug my mum, the little twelve year old who accepted she didn't have a family all those years ago needs a hug from her mum. I surge forward and she holds me in the way she did at my brother's funeral when I was being ripped away. She holds me like her life depends on it, and whispers into my ear that she's not going to let me go again.

For once, I believe her, and so does that little girl that needed these words so badly.

'Hey mum?' I sniff. She hums a little noise to let me know she's listening, 'Does this mean I don't have to go to that politics class?'

'Absolutely not, my darling.' She kisses my head.