Royal Arrangement #6

by Renna Peak

  William growls under his breath. “I don’t know why everything in this country has to be so difficult.”

  I smooth my gown, taking one last glance in the mirror before turning back to my husband. “I’m sorry this is difficult. I know you want to help. We both want to avoid a war—”

  “My entire family wants to avoid a war. I don’t…I don’t understand why Reginald is being so difficult about this. If he so much as wears that crown tonight—”

  “I know.” I walk over to him and straighten his tie. “I know.” I run my hands over the front of his formal suit before sliding my arms around his waist. “If I could go back in time—”

  “Why didn’t the last queen change the law? Surely she would have seen this coming—”

  I release my grasp on him, taking a step back to look up into his eyes. “I’m sure she did. Which is why the laws of ascension can only be changed by a male monarch. It’s in our country’s charter.” I shake my head. “Now is not the time to be discussing Rosvalian women’s rights. The laws are archaic, and most people would agree.”

  “And if Reginald takes the throne, even if he did abdicate, you wouldn’t be in line any longer.”

  I let out a long breath. “Exactly. I’ll do what I can to try to persuade Reginald again to do as your father wishes, but you know my words hold little sway over him. But I’ll try.”

  William smiles down at me before placing a chaste kiss on my lips. “That’s all I can ask.” Even through his smile, I can see the sadness in his eyes.

  None of this is fair, of course. My people did nothing wrong and yet, they will be the ones to suffer through any sanctions or declarations of war that might be brought against my country.

  There is nothing I can do. And the helpless and hopeless feeling creeps into my chest again, making me feel as small as I ever have.

  “We should go. They’ll be waiting for us.” I look up at William again. “And when this is over tonight, I think we should leave. For good this time.”

  He stares at me for a long moment, frowning. “I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

  “It isn’t. But I can’t save anyone. I can’t rescue my people. I’ve done all I can. My only hope now is that the rest of the world will take pity on this place. Realize that we’ve lost our way.”

  “They won’t take pity on a tyrant, Justine. We both know that.”

  I nod. I do know. My country is already the laughing stock of the world—Reginald’s rule will do little to change the opinion of anyone.

  “And I’m not kneeling before him.” There’s no trace of the usual joking that is usually in William’s voice. “I mean it.”

  I give him a curt nod. “You’re only Rosvalian by marriage. You’ll be expected to bow, the same as you would to any other monarch in your presence.”

  His gaze narrows. “I’m not going to do that either.”

  “You’re playing with fire, William. My brother is not in the best mental state at the moment. I’d suggest that neither of us does anything to incite a violent response from him.” I take William’s hand in mine. “I propose that we get through this coronation and then leave. We’ll go somewhere and have a proper honeymoon, at least for a little while. If I stay out of Rosvalian politics and you stay out of Montovian politics, neither of us can blame the other for their country’s actions.”

  He nods slowly for a moment, his lips finally ticking up into the slightest smile. “I suppose that would be the most sensible thing.”

  I return the smile, pulling his hands into mine. “I suppose it would.”

  He squeezes my fingers. “And you know how I feel about sensibility.”

  I groan, pulling my hands away. “I suppose I do.” I let out a long breath. “William, I don’t ask very much from you—”

  I’m interrupted by a lift of his eyebrow, and it’s all I can do not to laugh out loud.

  I shake my head for a moment. “But I am asking you this. Please don’t make a scene. Please don’t do anything that would jeopardize the safety of yourself or of me.” My hand seems to drift involuntarily to my abdomen. “Or anyone else.”

  He glances down at where my hand is resting, placing his over mine. “I won’t. You have my word.”

  I look up at him, nodding. “Then we should go to my brother’s coronation.”

  William

  I’d rather be anywhere than at Reginald’s coronation. I want to run away with Justine to the ends of the earth, keep her far, far away from all of this. But there’s no escaping now. Tonight, the fate of both of our countries hangs in the balance, and even though we both know how it’s going to turn out, we can’t just turn aside and pretend it isn’t happening.

  We arrive at the Grand Ballroom arm in arm. I look around, my stomach clenching. Even though this was only thrown together in a couple of days—and even though Reginald himself seemed uncertain about whether or not he wanted to proceed—it’s clear that no expense was spared. The walls are hung with colorful banners bearing the Rosvalian royal crest, and garlands have been strung between them. Swaths of dark purple silk hang overhead, giving the room a heavy feel, and hundreds upon hundreds of candles line the walls, filling the space with flickering gold light. A ten-piece orchestra is playing as guests filter in and begin to mingle.

  A coronation should be an exciting, joyous affair, but this one feels somber. A shadow hangs over the proceedings, and everyone knows it.

  I wonder if there are still protesters outside the palace, I think, pulling Justine slightly closer to me. There aren’t nearly as many people here as I was expecting—but now that I think about it, I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting. Rosvalia’s people are suffering—how many have the means or the desire to attend a formal function honoring a man who will surely drive them into deeper ruin? And because this coronation was planned with such little notice, it’s not like many foreign dignitaries or members of the nobility from nearby countries could drop everything to attend. The size of the crowd is laughably small, especially in this enormous ballroom.

  Justine is looking around, a frown on her face. She’s probably wondering the same thing I am—how will Reginald respond when he sees how few people are in attendance? There is nothing more important to that man than his pride, and this certainly won’t improve his mood or his chances of being reasonable.

  I stop walking. “Maybe…maybe it would be better if we weren’t here after all.”

  Justine’s eyes are still drifting around the room. “We can’t. He’ll definitely notice if we’re missing with so few people here.”

  She’s right—but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I wish I hadn’t promised her that I wouldn’t cause a scene—I have a feeling it’s going to take all of my willpower to keep my word.

  It doesn’t matter either way, I remind myself. Tonight Reginald will officially become king of Rosvalia, and tomorrow, our countries will officially be at war.

  A servant comes by with a tray of drinks. I take a glass of champagne—more to keep my hand full than out of any obligation to celebrate.

  A moment later, the sound of trumpets fills the air. Everyone turns toward the south end of the room, where a gilded throne sits on a dais, its back draped with more purple silk. The trumpeters stand on either side of it, playing a fanfare as a door to the left opens.

  A man in an ornate uniform rushes out, and his voice booms through the ballroom, even carrying over the sound of the trumpets: “All rise to welcome His Most Esteemed Highness Reginald, heir to the throne of Rosvalia!”

  As the people in the ballroom clap politely, an entire parade begins to emerge from the door—first a dozen of the Royal Guard, all marching in formation, then a young man carrying the Rosvalian flag. After him comes a handful of young women in traditional dresses throwing flower petals on the ground. Then more Royal Guard.

  Finally, Reginald emerges.

  He’s dressed all in purple and gold, and there are so many jewels on his coat that his shoulders are almo
st blinding. His sling, too. He also wears a long, heavy-looking cape of what appears to be black velvet. He holds his head high as he marches across the floor to the sound of the trumpets.

  Around us, people are already starting to bow. But I refuse to bend the knee to him—especially when he’s not officially king yet.

  Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he reaches the throne. The trumpets get even louder as he turns toward the ballroom, surveying the crowd.

  His eyes widen when he sees how few people are here, but he hides his surprise quickly behind a haughty sneer. His gaze lands on me and Justine, and he seems both pleased and disgusted by our presence.

  As he stands there, more people continue to proceed from the door to the side of the throne—more Royal Guards, plus the Cardinal who will be performing the coronation ceremony, then finally a straight-backed young man carrying a small pillow with the Royal Crown of Rosvalia sitting on top of it.

  Reginald raises his arm, and the trumpets fall silent. He looks back out over the crowd as the ornately-uniformed man rushes forward.

  “Welcome,” the man says to the room. “Tonight you will bear witness to a defining moment in Rosvalia’s most esteemed history. You are the honored ones, chosen to celebrate the ascension of your new king, to joyfully support the coronation of our proud country’s new ruler.” He steps to the side, his arms spread toward Reginald. “Before we proceed, His Most Esteemed Highness would like to say a few words.”

  Reginald steps forward toward the edge of the dais, his eyes hard and proud as he stares out at us. I don’t miss the way his gaze keeps landing on Justine and me. Finally, he opens his mouth.

  “I…” He falters, then clears his throat and begins again. “I want to…” Again, his voice trails off into nothingness.

  For a moment, everything is dead silent in the ballroom. And then a low murmur begins at the back of the room. People are confused, and Reginald looks slightly lost.

  But at the sound of the crowd whispering to each other, he seems to snap out of it.

  “I am proud to follow in my father’s footsteps and take up the mantle of king,” he says, and though his voice is steady and proud, something about him seems off—he’s visibly shaken.

  But he doesn’t seem eager to slow things down. He gestures toward the Cardinal.

  “Well, let’s not drag this out,” he says. “Let’s begin.”

  And any hope I had that he would do the right thing disappears forever.

  Justine

  The ceremony is over after only a few minutes, though even that short amount of time feels as though it’s gone on forever.

  My brother looks over at the Cardinal after the crown is placed on his head. “Is that it?”

  The older man looks a bit startled, giving him a small nod.

  “Good.” Reginald looks back over the small crowd and raises his hand.

  William nudges me and tips his head to mine, speaking under his breath. “I’m not kneeling.”

  I’m not entirely sure I want to kneel before my brother, either. But there is little alternative at this point—I can’t even imagine the ridicule that would be thrown at Reginald if his own sister refused to acknowledge his ascension to the throne.

  His ascension to the throne… I can still hardly believe I’m witnessing his coronation. I suppose I never truly believed I would ever become queen, but this… There is nothing right about this moment at all.

  And I could swear my brother agrees. He looks over at me, making eye contact for a brief moment before breaking it almost immediately. He does this again and again, almost as though he’s waiting for me to give him some sort of signal. Or perhaps he wants me to give him an acknowledgment that I’m supporting him.

  That is never going to happen.

  It may not be in the best interest of my country, but I cannot continue to support what is going on here. Perhaps William was right—maybe we shouldn’t have come to this circus at all.

  William tugs at my arm as the people around us begin to kneel.

  I turn to him, careful to keep my voice a hushed whisper. “We’ll be on a warm beach somewhere within a day.”

  He lifts a brow, a small smile finally playing on his lips. “Promise?”

  I give him a slight nod as I begin to descend to my knee.

  “Wait!” Reginald cries. “Wait…wait. Just…wait.”

  Everyone around us seems as stunned as I feel. Everyone turns to each other, and a low murmur begins to rise in the gathered crowd.

  “What is going on?” William speaks into my ear again. “Is this some sort of strange Rosvalian custom?”

  My eyes are locked with my brother’s now, and I barely hear what my husband says. I still have no idea what it is Reginald is up to, but I can see the fear in his gaze.

  I give him a slight nod—I have no idea what I’m encouraging him to do, but he seems to need my approval to be able to do it.

  Reginald turns to the Cardinal. “Do you have it? Is it ready?”

  The man bows as he speaks. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Good. Bring it here at once.” The man scurries out of the ballroom as Reginald turns back to look over the stunned guests. “Everyone, I have an announcement to make.”

  The murmurs ripple through the crowd again.

  “Please. Everyone. I know it’s unusual. But…but I have something I need to say.” He waits for the stunned gasps to quiet before he continues. “I…that is to say…” He clears his throat. “My family has behaved rather badly in recent days.”

  Many people begin to whisper, but I barely hear them. What I’m witnessing on the stage seems almost impossible—my brother seems to have almost grown a conscience.

  “It’s true.” He looks around for a moment before nodding at me. “Everyone, please. If you would listen…” He tries to motion them all back to their seats, but everyone is talking amongst themselves about what is transpiring in front of them.

  The Cardinal comes back to the small area where my brother stands.

  Reginald takes a paper from him. “Is this it?”

  The older man nods.

  “Good.” He looks over the paper in his hand for a long moment. “Good.” Reginald lets out a long breath before he turns back to the crowd. “As I was saying, my family has done some abominable things in the past few days. And though I was not personally responsible for most of the misdeeds, I understand I had a part to play. My father attacked our neighbor, unprovoked. And I knew of the attack and did nothing to stop it.”

  He pauses, looking over at me before giving me another slight nod.

  “I want you to know, I had no knowledge that there were to be chemicals used to destroy the mines in Montovia. Had I known…” He clears his throat again. “To be honest, if I had known, I’m not sure I would have had the…character to stop it anyway.”

  Another louder ripple of conversation runs through the crowd, and Reginald waits for it to die down before continuing. “If I’m being honest, I don’t have the character to do this job. Not yet, at any rate. Perhaps someday…” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. The laws of ascension in Rosvalia state that the oldest living child of the monarch is the next in line for the throne unless that child is born a girl. Then that daughter may only ascend to the throne if she has already borne four legitimate male children.”

  The room has gone deadly silent. William nudges me, and I turn to him, giving him a small shrug before I turn back to my brother.

  “I’ve thought about this law many times in my life. How unfair it is that because I was born ten minutes later than my sister, that she would be first in line for the throne. I suppose now those worries were all for naught.”

  People begin shaking their heads—while it might have looked like my brother was considering doing the right thing, it’s clear now that he isn’t.

  Reginald raises his hand again to try to quiet the small crowd. “I want you to understand. Please.” He shakes his head, and I could swear I see
other emotions in his eyes—a great sadness I don’t believe I’ve ever seen before in my brother.

  “As I was saying…” He clears his throat again. “I’ve thought long and hard about this. And please allow me to explain what we are doing here tonight. You see, if I hadn’t taken the throne—if I had abdicated my place in line before being crowned—my father’s cousin would now be king.”

  It almost seems as though everyone in the room is holding their breath. I don’t believe I’ve taken a breath in a very long time.

  “And if I abdicate now that I have been crowned, my father’s cousin is still next in line for the throne. I…I think it is time we change that law.” He nods at the Cardinal and the older man takes out a large quilled, ceremonial pen.

  Reginald takes the pen and makes a show of signing the paper in his hand before he holds it up for the crowd to see. “As King of Rosvalia, I may change any law as I see fit. And I’ve seen fit to change the laws of ascension that have governed our country for the past five centuries. No longer will a daughter be required to have any male heirs—or any heirs at all for that matter—and if a daughter is first born, she is now in line to be the next queen of Rosvalia.”

  A round of applause sounds through the gathering, but I still feel unable to take a breath. I look over at William, and he is staring at Reginald, almost as stunned as I am. Of course, the new law won’t affect me, but should Reginald have a daughter, she would be next in line to be the queen.

  It’s a start.

  “I’m not done.” He holds up his hand again. “Also in this charter, the order of ascension is changed if there is no living heir. As I have none now.” He pauses, looking over at me. “The law of ascension now states that instead of the oldest living relative being next in line for the throne when there is no heir apparent, the sitting monarch may name a member of the royal family member to succeed him.”