Ndaya shrugged. “Even if you had become a priest, Brother Maxence, you would have had to come and go. Rome tells the priests where to go, and they never stay for too long. Father Moses has been in Paris for some years now. You will always be a part of our hearts, but it is a thing we expected for you to also work elsewhere in the world.” Ndaya picked up Disanka’s hand and shook it above the table. “We religious sisters will continue the good work that you started in the DRC. Come and see us to see how much we have done.”
Disanka picked up Dree’s hand and held it in her cool, slim one. “And you come see us, too, Dree Clark. You bring your babies to show us. Or, if this man here doesn’t treat you right, you come live with us as a religious sister. We always have need of another nurse.”
Dree smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Maxence speared an enormous hunk of chicken on his fork. “The enthronement is next month. Would you like to stay for that?”
“We would like to stay, Brother Maxence. You had better feed us good at the big feast.”
Maxence laughed. “I guarantee there will be a large feast.” He stuffed the hunk of chicken in his mouth and chewed, closing his eyes with delight.
Dree asked him, “The coronation is next month?”
Maxence nodded. “Enthronement. The end of next month.”
“Are we going to New Mexico before that?”
Maxence winced. “I’m trying to find a few days to be on the plane. I promise it will happen. I know it’s important to you.”
Dree raised her eyebrows at him. “You’d better.”
Chapter Twelve
The Last Settlement
Maxence
Early the next morning, just after dawn, Maxence allowed one of the Rogue Security mercenaries to escort him from his apartment to the exit of the Prince’s Palace. He stopped the man at the portcullis gate and continued across the cobblestoned outer courtyard alone, breathing in the cool sea breeze from the Mediterranean at the base of the cliff far below.
The palace guards standing outside the walls wore theCompagnie des Carabiniers du Prince’sred and white ceremonial uniforms, and he nodded as he passed. TheCarabiniersostensibly guarded the castle but were more decor than defense. They saluted crisply because Max was always under surveillance, whether he wanted it or not.
Maxence strolled the two hundred yards to the Cathedral of Saint Nicholas in the medieval walled city of Monaco-Ville.
A priest met him by the cathedral’s side door to let him in as they’d arranged the previous day. Once inside, Maxence turned and found the small hallway that bore the crypts where his ancestors were buried.
His footsteps echoed on the gold-veined marble that rose many stories into the air and pinched together at the top of the arches in the ceiling far above.
Tourists had not yet been allowed into the Cathedral for the day, so only one vase of white lilies rested upon each of the spaces of the marble floor above the graves of his grandparents and parents.
In a few hours, tourists and fellow Monegasques would honor Monaco’s previous leaders with tributes of flowers, especially for his grandmother, Princess Grace Kelly. Her gravesite was covered with marble at floor level and inscribed with her name and her monogram, two elaborate Gs in a mirror image of each other. A large painting of her wearing a white dress against Monaco’s cerulean blue harbor leaned against the wall. Even though the artist must have been enamored with her, as everyone had been, he still hadn’t caught the kindness Maxence remembered in her blue eyes.
His grandfather’s grave was next to hers under the floor. His painting was a charcoal sketch of him in a paramilitary uniform, which seemed appropriate for the solemn, quiet man. At his funeral, years after his wife’s, his old dog had limped behind the casket to lay him to rest.
Beyond Princess Grace and Prince Rainier III lay the earthly remains of Maxence’s aunt and uncle, Prince Rainier IV and his wife, who’d died childless. After them, Max’s parents were interred, as his father would have been a Prince of Monaco if he’d outlived his older brother.
Maxence lit candles and prayed for all of them, his grief still held at a distance in his heart.
Finally, he arrived at the newest grave in the Cathedral, one with a monogram of two mirror-image Ps engraved on the stone floor. Even though Pierre had committed suicide, of that there could be no doubt, he was still allowed to be buried in sacred ground because, of course, no one could know if he’d truly repented of the sin of self-slaughter as he lay dying.
It was an equivocation of the Church to offer some solace to the families left behind, but it seemed little comfort.
“You shouldn’t have done it,” Maxence whispered, the syllables barely a growl in the back of his throat and the words only a vibration in his mind. “You had four children with Abigai Caillemotte. Even though you couldn’t acknowledge them legally as heirs,they were your children,and you were responsible for them. They will grow up without a father, even a narcissistic bastard like you. I resolved to have nothing to do with them beyond financially supporting them, but I can’t just walk away after seeing that woman. She’s as bad as you or worse. Someone has to make sure those kids are okay, andit should’ve been you.
“This was the last selfish act in a self-centered, indulged lifetime. You should have done better, Pierre. I’ll make sure your kids are cared for. I’ll rescue them if I have to.
“You left Monaco a fractured mess. You were so obsessed with becoming the sovereign prince that you allowed criminals to infiltrate the country. They almost overthrew the government. They nearly turned Monaco into a haven for drug dealers and organized crime. In your lust for power, you almost destroyed the country you wanted to rule, but I’ll pick up the pieces of Monaco, too.
“You destroyed everything you touched, Pierre.
