The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 783

By morning the mark on Felicia's cheek had turned the colour of a plum.

Alexander found her in the residence kitchen at six, standing at the sink with her back to the door, pretending to wash a cup that was already clean.

"Sit down," he said.

"I'm fine, Prince."

"Sit down, Felicia."

She sat. He took a cloth from the drawer, filled it with ice from the freezer, folded it once, and held it against her face. She flinched, then leaned into it.

"It doesn't hurt," she said.

"I know."

"It really doesn't." She looked at the table. "What hurts is you *thanking* him. For his *diligence*. I lay awake all night with that word."

"It's on the inventory," Alexander said.

"You said that last night too. I don't know what it means."

"It means everything he took is written down. In his clerk's hand. With a date and a list number." He moved the ice a little higher. "Things that are written down can be found again."

“Right now, his only goal is to drag me into a mess that will cost me everything. I have to stay patient for a few days—I won't play his game when the stakes are this high.”

Felicia looked at him for a long moment. "Don't make trouble for me. Please. Not for a ring."

"I won't make any trouble at all," Alexander said. "Hold this."

Lord Fennick's farewell lunch for the Tenth Prince was laid in the residence garden, under the old fig tree, at a long table with a white cloth and too many forks.

It had been Fennick's idea. He was a decent man in the way some men are decent: he liked things to be done properly, and he had never once in his life done anything brave in time to matter.

A prince was leaving. Princes got lunches. So there was a lunch.

The ministry people came. The clerks came. Richie came in his second-best suit, because he had cried all over his best one at the ceremony.

Felicia came and stood behind Alexander's chair with her hair pulled forward over her cheek.

"Sit with us," Richie told her, pulling out a chair.

"Servants stand, Mr. Moss."

"Not at my table."

"It's Lord Fennick's table," Felicia said, and stayed exactly where she was.

And Comptroller Basil Merriwether came last, as the guest of honour, with his leather folder under his arm and his four policemen eating at a side table.

He did not wait for the soup.

"A toast," he said, rising, glass in hand. "To Harland. And to the Crown's new golden goose."

A few of the ministry people raised their glasses. Fennick raised his halfway and studied the tablecloth.

"And since we're among friends," Merriwether went on, "I thought I'd share some of yesterday's paperwork. It's very entertaining." He opened the folder. "Item. One biscuit tin, contents cash, three thousand one hundred and twelve dollars. Item. One ring, gold, poor quality."

Felicia went very still behind Alexander's chair.

"Property," Merriwether said, "of the household of the Tenth Prince. The maid thought she owned property." He smiled around the table. "Imagine."

The ministry people laughed. Two of the clerks laughed. One of the policemen at the side table laughed with his mouth full.

"Comptroller," Fennick murmured. "Perhaps not at lunch."

"Why not at lunch? It's a farewell. We're saying farewell to everything." Merriwether closed the folder. "Isn't that right, Your Highness?"

"That's right," Alexander said mildly. "Is there more soup?"

…

The soup came. Merriwether did not eat his.

He watched the prince eat instead, badly, too fast, with his face too close to the bowl, and his smile thinned with every spoonful.

"You know what interests me," he said at last.

"Fish?" Alexander said.

"Money, Your Highness. The bank I can't touch. Not yet. Lord Fennick needs *weeks* to review a statute an idiot wrote in an afternoon." Merriwether glanced at Fennick, who examined his bread roll. "But you. *You* had a salary. A governor's salary. Half a billion a year came through this island, and you sat on top of it. Nobody sits on top of half a billion and stays poor."

"I'm very bad with money," Alexander said.

"Then you won't mind if we look." Merriwether snapped his fingers. "Clerk. The governor's personal account. Every coin in his own name. Read it out."

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