by Rachel Hauck
“I can deal with the photographers. It’s leaving my entire life behind that’s wigging me out.”
Susanna nodded in understanding. “I hear you, and it’s a decision you shouldn’t take lightly. When I knew I was falling for Nathaniel, I told him I wouldn’t marry him. I didn’t want him to have to choose between me and his country. Then he moved heaven and earth, as it were, to marry me. But I still had to decide, ‘Can I leave everything behind for love?’ I think I’m still deciding sometimes.”
“But I’m not in love.” She pushed her affection for Tanner aside.
“Can you love this country? The people? Can you appreciate what God has called you to do?”
“But has he? Called me?”
“Oh mercy, now you really sound like Nathaniel. When I met him, he was all wadded up, wondering if he was really called as the heir of Brighton’s throne. Doubting every bit as much as you are right now. He wondered if God called him to be king.”
“Exactly. So am I to restore the House of Augustine-Saxon just because old Prince Francis wanted it that way or God?”
“You’re standing here right now, Reggie. God literally came for you. In the form of Tanner, but still, he came for you. Do you know how long people looked for the heir? Then suddenly one day, there you were. People like you and Nathaniel are in such a rare, treasured position. You can do good for so many. Most people live their whole lives trying to find their destiny, find their place in this world, and here you and Nathaniel have been born into something extraordinary.” Susanna smiled. “Of course, he knew who he was from the beginning. And you just got the news last week.”
“Bam, out of the blue.” Reggie made an exploding motion with her hands. Yet she saw the picture Susanna had painted. “I just need to decide if I’m going to step into this royal world or not.”
“As did Nathaniel. Abdicating wasn’t an option for him, so he had to decide, in his heart, that being king was God’s will for him.”
“Which is why I’m hesitant to walk down that hall and take the oath, Susanna.” Reggie pointed in the direction of the chapel. “I need to know for sure. I can’t have one foot here and one in Tallahassee.”
“So decide. But it’s my conviction God has chosen you for such a time as this. Ask yourself if you can leave the truth of who you are—the princess. Can you take a chance, embrace the unknowns, and see what God has for you? Or will you go back to America, dig in where it’s familiar, and live the rest of your life wondering what might have been, a big part of your heart chained and closed off?”
A fast tear slipped down Reggie’s cheek and she caught it with the back of her hand, fixing her eyes on the opposite wall. She wanted this to be easy and fun, without doubt. But that wasn’t faith, was it?
Susanna reached for a napkin behind the coffeemaker and passed it to Reggie. “Look, I’m as green at this as you, but if you want, I’ll be here for you. I’ll be your friend.”
“My Southern-fried friend on these North Sea shores?” Reggie exhaled, the exchange inspiring more tears. “When I took the plunge to open the car shop with Al, it was a big gamble. Not only with my future and finances, but with his. I had no idea if we’d succeed, but I had just enough vision to make me take the leap.”
“What about now? Do you have enough vision to take the leap? That’s all it requires to start something amazing. A glimpse at the potential.”
“My mind is seeing clear, but it’s this dang knot in my stomach that seems pretty blind.” Reggie exhaled a laugh, wadding up her tear-stained napkin and tossing it in the trash.
“What do you think?” Susanna tipped her head toward the hall. “Have we kept the folks waiting long enough?”
Reggie raised her courage. “Yeah, let’s do this.”
Susanna caught her by the arm as she passed for the door. “If it’s any encouragement, I believe in you. I know you can do this.”
Reggie breathed out, her gaze fixed on the door. “Thank you. Now, let’s go before I change my mind.”
“For Hessenberg?” Susanna said.
“Yes, for Hessenberg. For my mama and my gram.”
The moment she walked into Wettin Manor chapel, Reggie sensed the presence of the Lord, like she had when she was young, with his hand resting on her head. Perhaps he’d come down to oversee the proceedings personally.
The small chapel was filled with men and women who rose to their feet as she entered—the king, the prime minister, the archbishop, other government leaders and ministers, members of the press. All waiting for her.
Then there was Tanner. Emanating courage as Reggie made her way forward, cutting through warm and cold silky swirls, like the wind beneath an angel’s wing, above her head and around her legs.
The archbishop greeted her at the altar. “Are you ready to take the Oath of the Throne?”
A photographer tucked in behind the pulpit, aimed his camera.
“I am,” she said with a confidence not her own.
The archbishop read from his script. “This oath, Regina, is between you and the Almighty, and the witnesses here.” His tone was steady and kind. “Then we will prepare for a royal coronation where your pledge is between you and the people.”
Reggie drew up straighter, taller. She was going to embrace this, run the race set before her.
“Regina,”—the archbishop took command—“please kneel.”
She wobbled forward, legs trembling, and knelt, her heartbeat sounding in her ears.
“Regina Alice Beswick, do you pledge your allegiance to God Almighty and the Lord Jesus Christ to defend the faith and freedom of the Grand Duchy of Hessenberg?”
“I do.”
“Do you pledge the same to hold the people in high esteem, serving them, submitting to the laws of the land?”
A smooth, invisible oil poured over her head and slipped down to her temples, releasing the thick fragrance of spices all around her. Chills multiplied and shimmied down her spine.
The archbishop continued with his questions of commitment. Reggie answered with her simple “I do” until her tears overflowed.
“May it be as you have spoken. Let your yes be yes and your no be no.” The archbishop walked behind the communion table and returned with a plain brown mantle, which he billowed over her head, shoulders, and back. The coarse brown material settled on her, heavy but fragrant.
“Almighty Lord, clothe her in humility that she may be your servant. Grant her the wisdom of King Solomon, the heart of King David, and the prosperity of heaven.”
As the archbishop prayed, reading Scripture, tremors rolled through Reggie, crashing against her mind, shaking her will and realigning her very identity.
Eyes closed. In the moment. Tears streaming.
“Your Majesty, King Nathaniel II, come forward.”
Reggie sensed the king standing beside her.
“I style you Her Royal Highness Princess Regina Alice Beswick Augustine-Saxon, and by the laws and grants of the royal House of Stratton of Brighton, restore the House of Augustine-Saxon. May the Lord bless you, keep you, and cause his face to shine upon you.”
Murmurs of assent raised in the chapel.
The archbishop returned. “Remember the difference between David and Saul, Your Majesty. It was the posture of their hearts. David sought the favor of the Lord, crying out, ‘Remember your servant, Lord.’ While Saul sought the favor of the people, crying out, ‘Remember me before the people.’ Regina, be like David. Seek the Lord your God. Let us pray.”
Reggie lowered her head and fixed her gaze on God.
When the archbishop said amen, he followed with, “Long live Princess Regina of Hessenberg.”
The witnesses chorused after him. “Long live Princess Regina of Hessenberg.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Seamus peered out his office window down to the street, watching the media flow into the building. He jumped to his phone when it rang.
“Well?” Seamus barked. It was about time Brogan rang up. Incompetent
ingrate.
“She took the Oath of the Throne five minutes ago, sir.”
“In the manor chapel?”
“Yes, sir.”
He swore. “Under our noses. How did we not know this?” His invitation omission said more than words.
“The press conference is about to commence.”
“Get down there. See what’s going on.” Seamus rang off, boiling and reeling. Arrogant Burkhardt. No respect. No gratitude. After all Seamus had done for him—saving him out of the mess he’d created with Trude, advising him after he left seminary.
Snatching up his phone again, Seamus rang Morris Alderman over at the LibP. “Morris? Seamus. I’m fine, fine . . . How about helping me take my fight to the next level?”
It was late when they returned to the palace. The press conference went well. Reporters packed the media room and asked cordial questions about Reggie’s life and thoughts on becoming a princess.
She’d anticipated questions about the governor’s petition and braced for wisecracks about being a redneck royal. But Tanner had orchestrated the question-and-answer portion, limiting the time, then escorting Reggie out of the Wettin Manor media room after ten minutes.
And she was grateful.
Once they arrived at Meadowbluff, Jarvis led Reggie and Tanner into the palace parlor, where he’d set an arrangement of flowers, cakes, and two flutes of champagne.
“H–how’d I do?” Reggie faced Tanner, lost in a swirl of emotions.
“Splendid, Regina. Most splendid. The oath ceremony was most moving. Sincere. The presser went well. How do you feel?”
“I feel . . . I don’t know how I feel.” She reached for the nearest chair, her legs suddenly weak. “Different.”
Tanner knelt next to her, touching her chin gently with the tip of his finger. “Give it a moment to sink in, Regina. You don’t have to grasp it all right now.”
He was right. Reggie exhaled, pressing her hand to her middle. “I feel peace.” She peered at Tanner and slipped her hand into his. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Putting up with me. For bringing Susanna into the coffee room. For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”
“I do believe in you, Regina.” His gaze lingered on her face for a moment, then he stood, releasing her hand. “As for the other thing . . . in the ballroom, I—” “Tanner, there’s a glow in the trees.” Reggie moved around him toward the window and pressed her forehead against the cold pane.
“I don’t see a glow in the trees.” Tanner cupped his hands around his eyes and peered out the window.
“Straight ahead. In the woods.”
Otherwise, the night scene appeared normal. The palace grounds were lit with blue and gold luminaries strategically stationed to paint the palace walls with light. But beyond the palace grounds a silky, twinkling glow bloomed from the heart of the dark forest.
“Where? There’s nothing out there.” Tanner stepped back from the window.
“I’m sure I saw something.” Reggie squinted toward the thin line between light and dark. It must be a reflection. Or some anomaly. “Tanner, is there a celebration because I took the oath?” There it was again, swelling up from the ground, billowing, then fading, but never dying.
“We didn’t want to make a big to-do just yet.” Tanner turned back to the room. “Let the people get used to the idea of a Hessenberg royal. Get through the end of the entail and all. We’ll celebrate in a grand way for your coronation. Regina, remember when you spoke to me of bonds?”
She turned away from the window. “The ones mentioned in the entail.” She tapped the windowpane. “Tanner, seriously, you didn’t see a glow in the woods?”
“Could your father have discovered bearer bonds among your gram’s things? And no, I saw no glow.” He grinned at his rhyme.
“Bonds? Not that I’m aware. All he had of Gram’s was that one box. The one with the fairy tale. Then why do I see a glow? Look, there it is, billowing.” Reggie tapped the top left of the pane. “Like a star fallen to earth.”
Tanner angled left to see beyond the glass. “Maybe it’s your sign. The one you asked of God.” He reached for a napkin and one of the cakes. “What about jewels? Did you ever see a tiara or any diamond necklaces or earrings?”
“Tiara and diamonds. No, never. Gram was very simple. She wore a plain gold wedding band and nothing more. What do you mean bearer bonds?” Reggie joined Tanner by the cakes and champagne, but kept one eye on the window.
“Ever hear of Blakely Oil?”
“Um, yes. I’m from Florida, not east outer Mars. One of my clients at Backlund invested in Blakely Oil. Made a killing.” The little chocolate cakes looked yummy. Reggie reached for a napkin, then chose a cake. She wasn’t all that hungry but she felt she should celebrate today in some way. Like with chocolate.
“The old man, Sir Blakely, came to see me Monday. His company was doing an audit and came across an escrow account that has never been touched. The money is tied to bearer bonds, and he believes the bonds were purchased by Prince Francis.”
“Why does he think that?”
“Because his grandfather, founder of Blakely Oil, was chums with your great-great-great-uncle. Old Man Blakely is pretty sure this escrow money belongs to you, the heir of Prince Francis.”
“But I don’t have any bearer bonds.” On the edge of the window, the glow bloomed again, causing a swirling anticipation in Reggie’s gut. She shoved the last of her cake in her mouth. “I’m going out there.”
“Out where?” Tanner tossed his napkin to the table and heeled after her as she fired out of the parlor.
“Out there.” She pointed in the direction of the glow. “Treasure hunting.” Down the hall, through the kitchen, and out the back door, her boots thudding, her skirt swaying, Reggie wondered if she finally had her sign.
Tanner ducked under a branch as he chased Regina through the blackness toward . . . nothing.
Until now, he’d found Regina sane and strong, a spark of life, reasonable, educated, and uncompromisingly beautiful. At least in his eyes. But this? Seeing a light that was not there . . . running through a pitch-black forest on a cold night was lunacy.
Was that rain he sensed in the wind?
Tanner had caught just Regina as she fired out the kitchen door, making her pause long enough for Jarvis to get a couple of torches.
“Regina, this is ludicrous.” Tanner yelped when his hair caught in a low-swung limb.
“Are you okay?” She ran back to him, breathless, her burnished tresses blustering about her face.
Tanner aimed his torchlight at his own head. “I’m caught.” He inhaled and jerked free, wincing. “That branch robbed me of my hair.”
“Simmer down, Samson. I think you can carry on.”
“Har-har. You’re such a funny woman.”
She shined her light on him. “Sorry, but you scared the wits out of me. You scream like a girl.” She whirled around, pressing forward through the darkness.
“Excuse me, I do not scream like a girl.” He intoned her accent. “I have a very manly scream.” He belted out his best scream just to prove it.
“Yeah, but that’s not what I heard, Tanner.”
“Must have been the wind . . . distorting my voice.” He fixed his torchlight on the path ahead, then up at the trees. “Regina, we should go back. It’s going to rain.”
“Tanner, you really don’t see anything? Glowing about right over there?” She fired her beam through the trees on her right.
“No, love, I don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Then why do I?”
He sighed, then laughed. “Maybe it’s the sign you asked from God.”
“Yeah, maybe. Or . . . a television or film studio making a movie? Or some weird glow from a river or stream?”
“There’s no television or film studio out there, and the stream runs south of here.”
She fell against the nearest tree. “Why give me a sign after I’ve tak
en the oath? I needed it before.”
“Who knows the Lord’s mysterious ways?” Tanner settled against the tree, next to Regina.
“Your dad did a good job at the oath ceremony,” she said, low and soft, more to herself than Tanner.
“He did.” Tanner raised his torch to the trees. Did he feel raindrops?
“You still at odds with him?”
“We’re never at odds, Regina. We simply don’t see things the same.”
“What did he say about your tryst with Trude?”
“Not ‘Well done, my boy,’ I’ll grant you.”
“Ah, so that’s it.” She stopped hacking through the brush. “You’re at odds over what happened with Trude.”
“We’re not at odds.” Tanner exhaled, rubbed his new bald spot on top of his head. “I was following in his footsteps to serve in the church, but I resigned my spot at the seminary when Trude told me she was pregnant.”
“I’m sure that was a hard conversation.”
“Excruciating. I’d failed him, the family, God. Believe it or not, Seamus Fitzsimmons came along and sort of rescued me. Set me on to law school. Kept the scandal of the archbishop’s son having children out of wedlock from the press.”
“And look where you are now, Tanner. The Minister of Culture.”
“The irony is not lost on me. The Minister of Culture instead of a minister of the gospel.”
“Hey, my pastor back home is always preaching that we don’t have to be in full-time ministry to share the good news.”
“Perhaps, but the Lord can find a better candidate than me to share his news.”
“And he could find a better candidate than me for princess, but here I am.” She shrugged. “What’re you going to do?”
“You are the perfect princess.” The wind shuffled through the branches, and in the distance an owl’s hoot celebrated the night. “The Lord knew what he was doing.”
“I see, but with you he’s all wet and out of touch.”
“Let’s just say God and I have a deal. I leave him alone and he returns the favor.”
