The Girl Who Chose

by Violet Grace

  ‘I’d really like that.’ I don’t even have to fake my interest in seeing this page of apparently unbreakable code. Along with picking locks, cryptography is my favourite hobby.

  ‘I will take her, Father,’ Victor says firmly.

  Salvatore nods and smiles but there is disappointment in his eyes.

  ‘Perhaps we can all go together,’ I suggest.

  ‘No,’ Victor says with a smile. ‘I cannot bear to share you.’

  He is hitting on me. In front of his parents. But his smile is confident, warm. It should be weird. No, scratch that. It is weird. But at the same time his confidence relaxes me. He’s playing a game. He knows it. I – and everyone else – know it. And I hate to admit it, but he’s good at it.

  ‘Oh really?’ I counter. ‘And do I get a say in this?’

  Before Victor can answer, Queen Eleonora takes my hand.

  ‘Your mother and I loved to play in that museum,’ she says in a frail, reedy voice.

  My breath catches in my throat. ‘You knew my mother?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she says with a vigour that I hadn’t expected. She’s not even forty yet, but she’s so close to death’s door, she looks and speaks like someone twice her age. ‘We played together as girls when your family visited.’

  There is such affection in her voice that I wonder if my mother’s friendship with Eleonora accounts for my Italian name.

  ‘One summer Cordelia decided we should be sisters,’ she says. ‘She always wanted a sister. As did I.’

  The Queen beams at me and I find myself thinking that if I were to have an aunty, I probably would choose one just like her.

  ‘We hatched a plan, your mother and I,’ Eleonora says with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. I’m hanging off every word, hoping she will reveal what my mother needs me to know. ‘We would grow up and bear children,’ she continues. ‘And when our children came of age they would marry each other. And we would be one family.’

  ‘Oh,’ is all I manage to say. If it wasn’t such an anticlimax I might be charmed by the sweetness of her story.

  ‘And now that this has come to pass, your mother and I will be sisters forevermore.’

  I wait for her to laugh. She doesn’t.

  ‘As a queen it is my duty to ensure the continuation of the royal line,’ Eleonora confides, squeezing my hand. ‘But as a mother, nothing gives me greater happiness than to see my son betrothed to Cordelia’s daughter.’

  I freeze. ‘Excuse me?’

  Eleonora signals for me to lean closer. Her eyes bore into me.

  ‘As the bride, you may set the date at your leisure, but please – please, my child, let it be soon so that I may live to see it.’

  ‘Victor?’ I say under my breath.

  ‘Yes?’ he says.

  ‘A little help here, please?’

  ‘You will make the most exquisite summer bride, Bella,’ Victor says, taking a mouthful of spaghetti.

  This is no alliance. It’s a betrothal.

  For a moment I contemplate if this is what my mother meant when she told me to go to Grigio. But I refuse to believe that she would want to marry me off to a stranger, when she herself fought so hard to marry for love. And how would marrying Victor help save my mother? It makes no sense. Then I think of Tom’s words of caution about this mission. I should have listened to him.

  The enormous room feels airless. My temperature is rising, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment and anger. The Art tingles at my fingertips as if I’m in physical danger.

  I push my chair back from the table, the screeching of wood on marble echoing around the hall. Two ushers step forward to help, but I hold my palms up, commanding them to stay back.

  The buzz of conversation and clatter of cutlery on fine crockery softens to a murmur and then stops altogether. Curious looks and whispered comments pass between the guests.

  Victor looks up at me, concerned.

  ‘I … I just need a moment.’ The words stumble from my mouth. ‘I’m a little … overcome.’

  Queen Eleonora’s face melts into a beatific smile. ‘Of course, my precious child. Of course. You have travelled far to be with us. And it is only natural that you should be consumed with happiness.’

  I turn towards a side door and catch the Chancellor’s eye.

  ‘Outside. Now,’ I hiss.

  The colour rises up his neck and settles on his cheeks, but he does his best to smile ingratiatingly over at Eleanora and Victor. Eleonora smiles back, apparently oblivious. Victor looks wary.

  It takes all my strength to hold my tongue until we reach the privacy of a vacant sitting room. Once the door has closed behind us, I unleash.

  ‘You lied!’ Power pulses within me. I have to struggle to keep it inside.

  ‘Your Majesty, I did no such thing,’ the Chancellor says, apparently mortified at the suggestion. ‘I told you very clearly we were here to make an alliance.’

  ‘You said nothing about marriage!’ I say, remembering to lower my voice just in time. ‘Did you just forget to add that little detail?’

  The Chancellor is indignant. ‘I cannot be held responsible for your failure to understand. If you had spent the seasons since your coronation familiarising yourself with affairs of state you would have known this is our way.’

  ‘How I spend my time is none of your business,’ I snap, feeling like a teenager rather than a queen. ‘When you said we needed to form an alliance I assumed I’d be sitting through a few dinners, making some speeches, signing papers, shaking hands and then we’d be on our way with a promise to help rebuild Albion. You gave no indication that I was to be the prize in some royal dating game.’

  ‘Your Majesty, I must protest. You make it sound so base.’ And then, after a deep breath, he adds, ‘Alliance, marriage – it’s mere semantics. They are different words for the same thing.’

  ‘Not to me,’ I say through gritted teeth, trying to control the power rising in me. ‘It’s not just words. It’s my life.’

  ‘Given this shocking outburst, I thank the Goddess that you did misconstrue my words. You may have been too petulant to have even boarded the airship.’

  I look at the pompous weasel who abandoned me in foster care when I was three years old. I want to grab his ridiculous cravat and choke him with it.

  The door opens and the Luminaress makes her way into the room. ‘A queen has no occasion to raise her voice in company,’ she says. ‘It is unbecoming.’

  ‘Well this queen just found an occasion,’ I say, my jaw clenched.

  ‘Come now,’ the Chancellor soothes as he settles into a chair. ‘Let us be reasonable. Your Majesty, upon reflection I have erred. I might have been clearer as to our mission here. Please, will you accept my apology?’

  I feel a glimmer of hope that he’s about to see reason and I am not the only sane person in this nuthouse.

  ‘We have been so busy with your transition, Your Majesty,’ he says carefully. ‘I may have neglected to mention the full significance of this alliance. And the … full ramifications.’

  ‘Yes, you did, didn’t you?’ I say flatly.

  ‘Well, what’s done is done,’ says the Luminaress. ‘Now that we are all aware of the situation and the seriousness of our business we can return to the banquet.’

  ‘What about the Supreme Executor?’ I ask. ‘She wouldn’t support this.’

  ‘She most certainly does,’ the Chancellor says definitively.

  ‘And the rest of the Order? Do they know what you two have schemed?’

  ‘Why do you think they all travelled this distance?’ he replies. ‘To show their united support for this union.’

  ‘I am not marrying him.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ says the Luminaress.

  ‘You heard me,’ I shoot back.

  ‘It’s what your mother wanted,’ the Chancellor says. ‘Queen Eleonora told me so herself during preparations for this visit.’

  ‘You don’t seriously think I should spend the rest
of my life with some sweet-talking prince I’ve just met because of a fairytale dreamed up by starry-eyed girls?’

  ‘Queen Eleonora is no longer a girl,’ the Chancellor says.

  ‘No, but she’s clearly a few diamonds short of a tiara. Marrying Victor is not what my mother would want for me.’

  ‘He has very fine qualities,’ the Chancellor says. ‘You will find him to be very loyal.’

  ‘Which would be great if I wanted a dog.’

  ‘You must understand, girl,’ says the Luminaress. ‘There is no better match to be found.’

  ‘You’re missing my point. I’m seventeen. I’m not marrying anybody.’

  Her face turns to stone. I watch the Chancellor’s face become a worrying shade of heart-attack crimson before he leaps from his chair and points his chubby finger at me.

  ‘It is your duty.’

  I stare at the little beads of sweat forming on his forehead as quiet rage erupts in the pit of my stomach. Blue sparks flicker around my hands as my power wells within me and pushes to the surface.

  ‘Duty? Duty? Let me tell you about duty,’ I seethe. I turn my arm over, revealing a circular scar from a cigarette burn on my inner bicep. ‘I was seven.’

  The Chancellor’s jowls wobble as he closes his mouth and sits back in his chair, a strange look on his still-reddened face.

  ‘Sue held me down while Larry burned me. Punishment for taking a slice of bread without asking. You were monitoring me, right? Doing your duty to protect the heir to the throne?’

  The Chancellor stares back at me. If anything, he looks scandalised, as if I’ve drawn him into something unsavoury that he’d prefer not to contemplate. I shouldn’t be surprised. But I am. I don’t know if Fae amorality makes him incapable of understanding the role that he played in my suffering, or if he just doesn’t care.

  ‘That’s not the only thing Larry did that night,’ I say. ‘Would you like to hear more?’

  ‘Oh Francesca, stop it,’ the Luminaress snaps. ‘Our healers could remove that scar for you. You only have to say the word.’ And then she adds, airily, ‘You really might consider it, girl. A Fae queen should be unblemished.’

  I lean forward and, in a quiet voice, I say, ‘I don’t want it erased. It’s a reminder of the evil that you all sat idly by and watched. And of what I survived. Most of all, it’s a reminder that I will not be lectured by any of you about duty!’

  Both of them flinch at my words. When blue fire dances around my fingers, crackling, their smug superiority is momentarily replaced by raw fear. They may be able to outmanoeuvre me, but I could turn them both to ash in an instant if I choose.

  I suck in a deep breath, making another attempt to get the Art under control.

  ‘You must have faith in us, girl,’ the Luminaress says. ‘We have your best interests at heart.’

  ‘No. You have your best interests at heart.’

  The Chancellor shakes his head. ‘We have learned from our history. Your mother was led astray by her youthful emotions —’

  ‘Yes, let’s talk about my mother, shall we?’ I say, cutting him off. ‘How are your recovery efforts progressing?’

  ‘It is a difficult process, Your Majesty …’ the Chancellor starts cautiously.

  ‘When are you going to stop lying to me?’ I spit. ‘When you first brought me back to Iridesca, you told me she was dead.’

  ‘I would never have said such a thing,’ the Chancellor bellows. ‘I specifically said she had lost her life, which, as you now know, is not the same. Again, I will not be held responsible for your inability to understand my meaning.’

  ‘You deliberately evade my questions and talk in riddles, pretending that you’re trying to find her life force. You’ve now had fourteen years to find it. And what have you achieved?’

  ‘Your Majesty, my dear Francesca,’ he says with a deep, condescending sigh. ‘We are endeavouring to ensure that a similar fate does not befall you. As I was saying, your mother, consumed by youthful emotions, did not make a prudent choice.’

  ‘He was beneath her,’ the Luminaress says, shaking her head.

  I wrap my hands around the arms of my chair so I don’t use them to rip out her throat. ‘Don’t you dare dishonour the memory of my father,’ I hiss. ‘My father was a brilliant man. You said it yourself.’ I turn to the Chancellor. ‘The only human in history to use science to simulate magic. He wasn’t born with the Art like all of you. He worked it out. And he was the one my mother chose.’

  ‘Your mother did not follow our advice and it was … well, it has not turned out well,’ says the Chancellor. ‘For any of us.’

  ‘Just look what happened,’ the Luminaress says, her eyes narrowing.

  I sit back in my chair slowly. ‘I happened,’ I say, with a deathly calm that surprises even me.

  ‘Your Majesty, that’s not what we meant,’ says the Chancellor.

  ‘If you are to remain on the throne then you must seal this alliance,’ says the Luminaress, her voice steely.

  ‘Need I remind you of the insurgency led by unicorns from your own Protectorate?’ the Chancellor adds. ‘There will be more to come from both inside and outside the palace if you remain weak and friendless. An alliance —’

  ‘Marriage,’ I correct him.

  The Chancellor glowers. ‘Very well, Your Majesty, a marriage with House Grigio, an honourable Fae house with considerable resources, would cement the legitimacy of your position and that of the throne. Please, Your Majesty, we are trying to help you.’

  ‘If this is the only way I can stay on the throne then I don’t want it. I quit.’

  The Luminaress lets out a mean little laugh. The Chancellor’s eyes almost pop out of his head.

  ‘And where would you go, my dear?’ he says. ‘Back to Volgaris, where you’re wanted for murder? Or should that be two murders?’

  My skin feels clammy. ‘Two?’

  ‘Your foster father’s murder is the least of your troubles now,’ he goads. ‘You’re the prime suspect in the disappearance of Marshall Musgrave.’

  All of my conviction evaporates. I know that the disappearance of London’s richest and most eligible bachelor has been the biggest news story since Princess Diana’s death. Its first anniversary made the front page of all the papers. I didn’t know that the police had set their sights on me but I suppose that does make sense.

  As much as I hate to admit it, the Chancellor is right. I have nowhere else to go.

  ‘And it’s not just the police who are trying to trace your whereabouts, Your Majesty,’ the Chancellor continues, clearly enjoying his change in fortunes. ‘There is also the matter of inter-realm relations. Thanks to your impulsive behaviour last spring, they are at a flashpoint. One more infraction is all it will take for four hundred years of peace to collapse entirely.’

  ‘I haven’t risked the Treaty,’ I snap, suddenly feeling defensive. ‘I restored it by destroying the power in the Chalice.’

  ‘I am not talking about the Treaty,’ the Chancellor says. ‘I’m referring to the scene you caused when you escaped the Agency. By broadcasting your immunity to graphite, you have presented yourself as an unacceptable threat to humans. One the Agency is no doubt working to contain.’

  I feel my chest tighten as I remember that Gladys had said something similar after I busted my way out of the cage Agent Eight was holding me in. Graphite smothers Fae power, and throughout history humans have used it to contain Fae. They even use graphite in their prisons. But for some reason, it has no effect on my powers, which means that while the Agency is officially upholding the peace negotiated in the Treaty, when it comes to me I’m guessing all bets are off.

  I haven’t been back to Volgaris since my coronation so I haven’t had to worry about any plans the Agency might have for me. If I go back, I have to assume that they will try to track me down and neutralise me.

  ‘Well, tell me how you think this absurd marriage would work anyway?’ I say. ‘Do you really think Victor will jus
t pack his bags and move to Trinovantum?’

  ‘My Queen, you are mistaken,’ the Chancellor says, as if to a particularly dim and trying child. ‘You are to remain here, in Serenissima.’

  A stillness overcomes me.

  The Chancellor continues talking, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

  Every tiny detail in the room comes into sharp focus.

  They’ve been planning this all along. My mother was a problem. She followed her heart and upset the establishment. She threatened their authority. The Order doesn’t want her back. Damius stealing my mother’s life force was not a crisis – it was an opportunity.

  They only brought me back to protect them from Damius. Or deter him, at least. I’m a pawn, blocking Damius’s rise but powerless to act on my own.

  I feel so gullible and naive. I knew they’d been lying to me – or telling me a version of the truth designed to manipulate me. But now I wonder how deep their lies go. Is the devastation of Trinovantum solely because of Damius? Or is he a convenient cloak for their inaction?

  Words continue to spill out of the Chancellor’s mouth, about how the Order will manage the day-to-day affairs of Albion. He’s got it all planned out.

  ‘… of course you will still preside over Solstice and other special occasions,’ he’s saying.

  I yank at the bodice of my dress, trying to free my lungs. There’s suddenly not enough air in the room.

  ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ I say, standing up. ‘We’re done here.’

  I exit without a backwards glance, gasping for air.

  ‘Your Majesty …’ the Chancellor calls after me, but I keep walking.

  Victor is leaning against the wall outside the sitting room, one foot propped up on the fresco. I spin and face him, trying desperately to calm myself. His features are soft, his eyes troubled. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there, but he’s clearly overheard enough.

  My face flashes hot, a mixture of fury and embarrassment. I hide my shaking hands behind my back.

  ‘Would being with me be so terrible, Bella?’ he asks quietly.

  ‘That’s hardly the point.’