by T. K. Leigh
“That was because she didn’t get the help she needed and took her own life, a detail you’ve all conveniently kept out of the media.”
“Nevertheless, all that matters right now is that the monarchy is in jeopardy. The referendum didn’t have much support until you broke protocol and granted an interview to some American magazine. Now, all the people of this country see are the king approaching retirement age and an heir who may not be able to fulfill his obligations. So you need to do everything possible to re-instill their confidence in you. Based on early polling, this leaked engagement…to an American, no less…certainly isn’t doing that.”
“But a royal wedding may just distract them,” my father interjects softly.
Dalton whips his head toward him. “Excuse me?”
My father smiles slyly. “You said it yourself when you shared your plan regarding Ms. DeVries. You claimed people love a wedding, especially a royal wedding. That it gives them something to be a part of. We saw how wrapped up the people of this country were during the latest British royal wedding. They filled stadiums to celebrate it. And he married an American, too. If you’re so concerned about this referendum, perhaps that’s an alternative to your…proposal.”
“What is?” I ask.
My father faces me. “That you marry Nora before people go to the polls this November. Preferably before she starts to show.”
“Before she starts to show?”
“She’s six weeks now. I’d suggest marrying her within the next eight weeks at most. We must consider the public perception. The longer you wait to marry her, the more obvious the reason you are marrying her will become.”
“I’m marrying her because I love her. Her pregnancy is just an unexpected blessing. Nothing else.”
“That’s not the way people will see it. If they learn she’s pregnant before you’re married, they’ll think that’s the reason.”
“Won’t people get suspicious anyway?” I argue. “Particularly if we announce we’re getting married in a matter of weeks? When the baby is born, they’re bound to do the math.”
“But by that point, the vote will have already passed and they’ll be too excited about the birth of a royal baby.”
I blink repeatedly, looking into the distance. Heavy drapes frame the tall windows, portraits of important figures in Belmont history hanging on the walls, as if a reminder of my place in this world.
But what about Nora? This is a completely new world for her. We’ve discussed taking the next year to adjust to our new life together and being new parents. Now we don’t have a choice but to rush into marriage just to be together.
“Listen, Anderson,” my father says, turning from the king into my father. “I can give you my approval, and I do so happily. But the second your child is born, I can no longer grant you that approval. If you wait to marry until she’s given birth, you’ll be doing so in direct violation of a royal act. Which will—”
“Automatically remove me from the line of succession.”
“Precisely.”
A year ago, I had every intention of giving up my place in the line of succession just to prevent my father from forcing me out, as I’d assumed he did to my mother after she was diagnosed with MS.
Now I know that wasn’t the case, that the depression she experienced after her diagnosis made her push everyone away. I tried to do the same thing, but Esme wouldn’t let me.
More so, my father wouldn’t, either.
Now I’m actually looking forward to the day I’ll lead this country. Can bring it and the monarchy into the twenty-first century. Can give it the breath of fresh air it needs.
But at what cost to Nora?
“I can’t make this decision without talking to her,” I tell him. “This life is all new to her. The media circus. The spotlight.”
He nods, standing. I do the same. “I can hold off on making a statement to the press for a day or two. That should give you enough time to discuss this with her.”
“In the meantime,” Dalton begins, rising to his feet, as well, “if anyone asks about your status, you tell them—”
“I know. I know. No comment.” I force a smile.
“Precisely.”
I turn my attention toward my grandmother. She’s remained unusually quiet throughout most of this conversation. As I learned from playing chess with her, her being silent is never a good thing. Those long stretches of time when she simply stared at the chess board, mentally playing out all her moves, usually led to her declaring a rather embarrassing victory.
I hope the same isn’t true here.
I bow toward her. “Your Majesty.” Then I face my father, offering him the same sign of respect, before retreating from the conference room.
My father’s private secretary greets me the second I step into the foyer. He bows toward me, then spins, leading me away from the executive wing, as if I’m a visitor, not someone who spent his adolescent years in this building.
Once I’m back in the SUV and the imposing palace walls are far behind me, Creed meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “How did it go?”
I give him a knowing look as I roll my eyes.
“That good?”
I blow out a laugh. “Worse.”
“No matter what, Nora’s a strong woman. She’ll be okay.”
I nod, leaning my head back against the seat, praying he’s right. Sure, I’d told her what life would be like as my wife, the things she’d have to give up.
But that was before she saw it for herself.
Before she experienced it for herself.
Will she still want this? Want to be under a microscope for the rest of her life?
Like she told me earlier today, she wasn’t thrust into this life like I was. She chose it.
But now that she’s had a taste, will she still choose it?
Will she still choose me?
Chapter Nine
Nora
I rest my forearms against the railing of the spacious balcony off Anderson’s private quarters, inhaling the fresh air, hoping it helps me stay awake when I’d love nothing more than to fall asleep. I doubt I’d be able to sleep, though. My mind is far too preoccupied with what could be going on at Anderson’s meeting with his father.
I doubt they’re talking about the latest rugby match or polo game. Or whatever it is royal people from Europe discuss.
They’re talking about me. About whether I’m good enough for Anderson. Whether I’m good enough to be his wife.
To one day be queen.
Years of being made to feel inadequate by my mother bubble to the surface. I fight to push down her biting reminders that I’m not good enough. That I’m a failure. That I’ll never amount to anything.
I close my eyes, practicing my breathing, inhaling only positive energy while pushing out all the negativity.
Or at least try to.
It doesn’t work as well as it once did.
Right now, there’s a lot of negativity in my life.
A pair of warm lips against my shoulder blade takes me by surprise. In a heartbeat, I no longer need my breathing exercises to relax, my body succumbing to Anderson’s soothing caress.
There was once a time when meditating and yoga were the only way I could find peace and quiet my mind.
Now it’s Anderson.
His touch is all I need to erase my worry. As long as he’s here, everything else is just noise.
Tranquility encompasses me as he runs his hands down my arms, then pulls my body into his, my back to his front. I don’t ask how his meeting went. Don’t want to ruin this moment. Instead, I bask in the love radiating from his embrace as we peer at the breathtaking view of the magnificent gardens leading to jagged cliffs, miles of ocean stretching out below them. It’s reminiscent of Hawaii…if Hawaii had more of a European flair.
I wonder if this is what the French Riviera is like. Or the Amalfi Coast. Two places Anderson said we’d visit at some point.
Will we still have tha
t chance?
Or is everything about to be ripped from under us?
“Want to go for a walk?” Anderson eventually asks.
When I turn around, he drops his hold, and I peer into his eyes for the first time since he arrived home. In that one look, I can tell things didn’t go as he’d hoped.
“Is this a good walk, or a bad walk?”
He smiles and reaches for my hand, our fingers interlocking. “That all depends on you.”
“Okay.” I force a smile. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He leads me back into the bedroom, through the living area, and out into the hallway. Neither of us says a single word as we walk through his estate, any staff we encounter bowing or curtseying as we pass. I’ve only been here a few hours, but knowing I’m constantly being watched already suffocates me.
As if Anderson can sense my discomfort, he quickens his pace to the double doors leading to the gardens. Once we step outside, I inhale a deep breath, the chains seeming to cut off my oxygen falling away. I steal a glance at Anderson, his own expression similar to mine.
“This way,” he murmurs.
Hand in hand, we stroll along the flower-lined paths. The sweet aroma fills me, making me forget everything, even if for only a minute.
As we near the edge of his property, the breeze picks up, blowing my hair in front of my face. He leads me to a bench and gestures for me to sit. Then he joins me, his gaze focused on the sparkling ocean sprawled out before us. The sun setting on the horizon casts a peaceful glow over our surroundings.
When Anderson gave me a tour of the estate and grounds earlier, he’d remarked that this was the place he often went if he needed to clear his mind. I can see why. The crashing waves of the ocean below coupled with the lush greenery around us is a sight to behold. Makes you forget that only a few hundred yards away sits a building that’s more a prison than a place to call home. At least that’s the feeling I get when inside its walls.
But out here, I feel…free.
And by the look of serenity on Anderson’s expression, I assume he does, too.
“This world is vastly different from what you’re used to,” he says after a protracted pause.
It’s not a question. So I don’t respond, granting him this opportunity to sort out his own thoughts.
“And not just the different electrical outlets and the side of the road we drive on,” he adds, his voice lightening momentarily. “But my world is different from yours.” He shifts his gaze toward mine, the glow from the sunset reflecting in his vibrant blue eyes.
“Truthfully, there’s a lot I’ve kept from you. Not because I didn’t want you to know, but because I didn’t want you to think I don’t appreciate the opportunity I have. That I take my position for granted. I don’t. I’m grateful to be in a position where I can potentially make a difference in people’s lives, as cliché and idealistic as that sounds.” His lips press together into a tight smile. Then he turns his eyes forward once more.
“Unfortunately, this world sometimes has its drawbacks. Our lives are under a microscope on a daily basis. People dig deep for any hint of vulnerability or weakness that can be exploited. And that’s especially true now with the referendum on the ballot.”
I scrunch my brows. “Referendum?”
“It happens occasionally. A referendum to amend the Constitution to either severely limit the monarch’s power or abolish the monarchy altogether in favor of a true parliamentary government gains enough support to go to the voters on election day.”
“If it’s a monarchy, people still get to vote?” I ask, wishing I’d done a little more research on how this form of government functioned.
“In a constitutional monarchy, the king is akin to your president, with the Executive Council having powers similar to that of your Cabinet, all of whom are elected by the people. That’s simply the executive branch. Like you, we also have a legislative and judicial branch. The judicial branch is appointed by the Executive Council, with the monarch’s approval. And the legislative branch is a unicameral house of elected representatives. Each branch functions much like you’re accustomed to. The legislative makes the laws. The executive carries out and enforces the laws, with a limited power to enact certain orders, as well. And the judicial branch adjudicates any disagreements regarding laws that have been passed.”
“So you’re telling me I should have paid more attention during my World Political Systems class in college.”
“Probably not a bad idea.” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up in amusement. It only lasts a second, but I’ll take what I can get. “As I was saying, there’s a referendum on the ballot to limit the monarch’s power. We’d still be a constitutional monarchy, but if it passes, the bulk of the executive power will now be placed in a prime minister elected by the people, the monarch only retaining certain limited powers, much like is currently in place in the U.K. This country is one of the last remaining true constitutional monarchies where the monarch still retains quite a bit of executive power. I think it’s partly because of an unspoken rule that when a monarch reaches the age of sixty-five, he or she will voluntarily abdicate.
“Because of all of this, every decision must be carefully weighed, all the potential public relations issues evaluated in terms of how it will affect the monarchy. How it will affect the referendum vote.” He glances at me. “Even decisions of a more…personal nature.”
I lower my eyes, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt, an unsettling premonition forming in the pit of my stomach that this constitutional referendum is about to wreak havoc on our lives. That the leak of our engagement isn’t helping matters.
“Your father doesn’t like the idea of us getting married.”
“He was more surprised by it than anything. He didn’t think we were as serious as we are.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’d have no reason to, I suppose. I don’t have the kind of relationship with him where I share what’s going on in my personal life. Most of his updates about me come from his private secretary. It was my grandmother and the head of household, Dalton Peel, who were quite opposed. Particularly the head of household.”
“Head of household?” I blink, confused. “Like the main butler or something?”
“No. The head of household is similar to what you know as your president’s chief of staff. He’s essentially in charge of the entire royal household, which basically means he’s in charge of the entire monarchy. He’s the only person on the Executive Council who isn’t elected, but appointed by the king. And he’s also my father’s most senior member of his Privy Council.”
“And what’s the Privy Council?”
“An advisory committee to the monarch. Whereas the Executive Council offers the king advice on matters of state, the Privy Council advises the monarch on matters of, well, the monarchy. Our history. Our traditions. Our public image.”
I take a minute to process this new information, my brain on the verge of exploding. Now I really wish I’d learned more about this concept of government. At least that would have given me a foot up, so to speak.
“So your grandmother and your father’s most trusted advisor are against us.” I glance at Anderson. “Isn’t it the king’s decision to grant us permission to marry?”
“Technically, yes. But in all matters relating to the monarchy, the king listens to his Privy Council’s advice, as well as the advice of certain members of the royal household.”
“Like your grandmother?”
“Yes, although she’s more accurately a member of the royal family.”
I dig my fingers through my hair, pulling at it. “You do realize how confusing this all sounds, right? Especially to an outsider?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you up to speed on this ahead of time. I still occasionally get confused about how everything works, so I can only imagine how you must feel. Simplest explanation… The royal family includes the people in the line of succession, as well as certain people who were formerly married to a decea
sed monarch, like my grandmother. The royal household includes everyone who works behind the scenes to make the royal family look good — Privy Council members, private secretaries, publicists. In reality, they’re the ones who keep the monarchy alive and going. The ones who make a lot of the decisions. Imagine this life is a chess board… The members of the royal family are the game pieces, the royal household are the chess masters.”
“I see…” I stare forward, the last bit of daylight slowly disappearing beyond the horizon. “And these so-called chess masters would prefer if I weren’t part of the game.”
“I’m not going to keep anything from you, Nora.”
His firm tone forces my gaze back to his. I survey his appearance…muscles taut, jaw clenched.
“You may not like some of the things I’m about to tell you. I didn’t like hearing them earlier. But there are quite a few people in the royal household and royal family who do not support us as a couple. Who think I should marry someone more ‘appropriate’. Someone who’s been around this life, who grew up in it.”
“So this is your way of letting me down easy,” I reply in a shaky voice, running my clammy hands along my dress. “Tell me your father won’t give his approval.”
“Actually, no.”
I tilt my head. “No?”
“Getting the monarch’s permission is more of a formality. Not to mention, it would look bad if he were to publicly denounce our engagement after it made headlines.”
“If he approves, then—”
“I told them about the pregnancy.”
“Oh.” I shrink into myself, hugging my arms around my body as a sudden chill overtakes me.
He blows out a frustrated laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t my intention. But Dalton and my grandmother kept going on and on about Caroline being able to conceive a child and not knowing whether you were able to—”
“What a second.” I furrow my brow, recalling a few reporters shouting that name earlier. “Who’s Caroline?”
He smiles sadly. “Caroline DeVries. After Kendall died, we had a…thing. Nothing emotional. Purely physical. She was someone who could help me forget.” He turns his gaze in my direction, mouth quirking into a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.”
