Chapter Three-Hundred-and-Twenty-Seven
3rd Person POV
The trio were together again.
There was no way Charlotte would miss the funeral of Harlin's uncle. One reason was that his uncle had been the closest thing to a father to him and the second being that Arabella was her friend.
However, something was different about Charlotte and Reginald and Harlin could tell the second they saw her.
“What's this on your finger? Take it off!” exclaimed Reginald.
“I'm getting married, can you believe it?” squealed Charlotte in excitement.
“NO!” her twin and her friend screamed.
They could not believe it.
“You're getting married? Who will ever marry you?” asked Reginald incredulously. Charlotte elbowed her brother between his ribs for mocking her.
“Don't tell me it's the vampire prince,” said Reginald.
“It is, I'm so excited. Naturally, we're going to have two weddings and…”
“Have you told mum? or dad?” asked Reginald.
“Of course not! And you're not telling them.”
“How do you intend to get married without their blessings?” demanded Harlin.
“That's why I'm not telling them.”
“And the ring? You can't exactly hide that,” remarked Reginald.
“Can't I?” quipped Charlotte as she slid the ring off her finger and put it in her pocket.
“Don't be ridiculous, Charlie. You have to tell them soon,” said Reginald.
“I will tell them eventually but now is not the right time. There's a funeral and everyone is sad and wet with tears and… not the right time.”
“You're stalling.”
“Of course, I'm stalling. Father is going to freak out!” exclaimed Charlotte.
“I don't think mother will mind,” said Reginald.
“And you can always guilt them into acceptance by using my misery as an example,” added Reginald.
“You're a good brother,” commented Charlotte, patting her brother's butt.
****
The funeral was solemn and short. Lots of tears were shed. Arabella now found herself without both her father and mother and a younger brother who was only six years old. The saddest thing though was how close friends were trying to plant seeds of discord between the siblings. It became a battle of who should become the next Beta. Even though the late Beta had made it clear that his daughter was to be the Beta, the ministers refused to acknowledge his wishes.
Two days after the funeral, the ministers submitted their petition against the ascension of Arabella to the position of Beta.
“The Beta’s body is still warm in the ground and already you're plotting to remove his daughter from office?” asked Irvette incredulously.
“Your Majesty, the position of Beta is a delicate one. The office cannot be left void for long,” one of the ministers said.
“It is not void. Lady Arabella will act as Beta pending her official installation,” remarked Irvette.
“Your Majesty, a lady cannot be Beta when the throne is filled by a lady. It is highly unusual.”
“You appear to have a problem with me being Queen, Lord Christopher,” replied Irvette.
“Your Majesty, you put words in my mouth.”
“I put no words in your mouth. I only interpret what you have said. It appears there has never been a problem with two men occupying the highest seats in this pack but two women? You can't have that, huh?” quipped Queen Irvette.
“The late Beta has a son, he ought to be Beta.”
“If I may, your Majesty?” quipped Arabella.
“Please.”
“My father trained me to be his heir. He raised me to fight and to be strong. He taught me the history of my people and everything he knew. I will not stand by and watch you tear apart my father's legacy. I am his heir and nothing can change that,” Arabella's tone was firm.
“You know who should be the Beta? Prince Harlin. Your father would have never got close to that position if his brother had not been murdered,” replied Lord Christopher.
“So? You want my brother who is only six years of age to be named Beta?” Arabella could not understand how they could present such an illogical argument.
“A man should…”
“Enough! There is no tangible reason to deny Arabella what is rightfully hers. She will be Beta after her father. If you have a problem answering to her because she is a woman you can resign from your positions.”
****
Charlotte did not tell her parents about her engagement even after the funeral. She returned to the Dark Moon pack where she continued to enforce elections and battle with her court to uphold her ideas. It was proving an increasingly difficult task because they refused to budge. However, Charlotte had one move up her sleeve that none of them saw coming.
One fine evening, Lord Plato came storming into the palace demanding to see Charlotte. He was led into Charlotte's private study where she had sat expecting him.
“What nonsense is this! An investigation into the death of my father!” cried Lord Plato as he slammed the document on Charlotte's table.
“What have you to fear? It is an investigation and not an arrest,” remarked Charlotte, seated calmly behind her desk.
“This nonsense insinuates that I killed my own father! This is absolute rubbish! It should never see the light of day!” Lord Plato was fuming. He was beyond infuriated at the accusation and it did not help that the notice of investigation indicated that there was evidence to prove that his father had been murdered.
“Really? That is not a good look, Lord Plato,” returned Charlotte with a smile.
“You did this on purpose, didn't you?” demanded Lord Plato, fuming in anger.
“I did. Now what are you going to do about it?” asked Charlotte with an evil smile dancing on her lips.
Lord Plato was quiet. He had not expected Charlotte to admit to being the mastermind behind a plot to ruin him.
“Cat got your tongue? If you're done yapping at me, you can get out of my palace. Who knows? The next time you're here, it may be for your execution.”
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