by Galaxy Craze
Polly grabbed him by the arm and yanked him onto the bed with us. His laugh was as spontaneous and childlike as I’d remembered it.
I was overjoyed at the sight of them—my best friend and my brother, safe and returned to me.
“It’s so good to see you,” I said into Jamie’s ear. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too,” he said, but his voice sounded weak and small.
His face was red with emotion, and he was biting his lip. I could see he was on the verge of tears, fighting them back with everything he had.
I hugged him tight.
“Jamie,” I whispered, “it’s going to be okay. But it’s also okay to cry. Go ahead and cry, if you need to.”
Jamie hid his face in my shirt to muffle his sobs.
I squeezed him for dear life, letting the tears come to my own eyes, rubbing his back the way Mary always used to when he was little and upset about taking his medicine. Mary had always been the responsible one, the one to take care of Jamie and me. Now it was my turn.
A small square of sunlight fell from the window and the faint cool scent of afternoon air filled the room with a soft glow. Polly leaned over and hugged us both, tears gleaming on her cheeks.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said again, louder this time. If I repeated it over and over again, maybe it would come true.
* * *
Some time later, after Polly and Jamie and I had cried and reminisced and even laughed a little, they left me to settle in to their own rooms.
I lay back down, told myself to relax, though I knew I wouldn’t be able to.
A sound in my doorway startled me. I turned quickly to find Wesley there. “Sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I said. To be honest, I’d been wondering when he would come. “I’m just a little jumpy these days.”
In the next moment Wesley was sitting next to me on the bed, his arms tight around me. I breathed in his soapy smell, a scent that somehow reminded me of my childhood. I had a vague recollection it was the soap from my art room, from when I was a little girl.
“You’re more beautiful than ever, Eliza,” he said, affectionately brushing my hair away from my face.
I hadn’t talked about this with Polly and Jamie—I wasn’t even sure they knew, to be honest—but I couldn’t avoid the topic anymore. “I don’t know how you can still look at me after what I did,” I said slowly.
“After single-handedly saving your country, you mean?”
“I ripped a man apart with my bare hands, Wesley.”
“Not true,” Wesley said. “At some point you found his knife.”
“Don’t make light of this, please. I know you’re just trying to make me feel better. But that was not the work of a sane person. I don’t know what came over me.”
Wesley leaned forward, looking deep into my eyes. “You can’t have any regrets about what happened, Eliza. If anything came over you, it was some kind of self-defense instinct, and I’m glad it kicked in. I only wish I’d been able to protect you.” He sighed. “We haven’t lived in a sane world for a long time. I had to pretend to try to kill your sister just to save your life. You were prisoner in your own home. I set bombs to the royal chapel. What kind of world is this? How will children of the future ever study us in history class?”
I placed my hand over Wesley’s chest to quiet him. “I don’t think I’m fit to be queen,” I said, my voice small.
“No one is more fit, Eliza. I mean that.”
“What happened?” I asked. “After I … killed him? I don’t remember anything from that point on.”
Wesley ran his hands up and down the length of my arm. “You passed out just after you killed Demkoe. Once we found a doctor to take you away, Tanner and I went out to the balcony.” I nodded, knowing the balcony that he meant. It was traditionally a place of celebration, for silly things like photos of a first kiss. “We called a meeting, and all the rebels gathered, along with various people from London. We explained everything that had happened, and then let them ask questions and throw out suggestions on what should be our next move.”
“Where was Silver during all this?” I asked.
“There must have been two or three hundred men and women crowding the main floor,” Wesley continued. “Midway through, Silver had appeared in the back. Tanner and I saw him step in, but the rebels were all facing forward, so they didn’t know he was there. While Silver listened, they voiced their grievances. They said Silver shared their ideals, but that he took things too far. They didn’t agree with his willingness to let innocent people die in the blasts. They saw it as heartless and too brutal a tactic. It made them distrust his judgment. England needs a new Parliament, they said. They wanted democracy, the balance of power. And then they called for you by name, Eliza.”
I bit back a sob. “And Silver?”
“He left. He said he’d had enough politics, and just turned around and left.”
“Wow,” I said. There were no other words.
“You can do this,” Wesley promised. “We all believe in you. You just need to believe in yourself.”
Then he leaned in and kissed me—lightly, softly.
It was a strange kiss. In some ways, it was like a first kiss all over again. I had already lost Wesley, and let him go, only to find him again but not trust him. There was something new and changed about both of us, and I knew it would take us a long time to learn each other all over again. But underneath all of that he was still Wesley, the boy I had fallen in love with. I closed my eyes and leaned forward, tasting the kiss, exploring it.
Then something made me sense that we weren’t alone. It wasn’t a noise so much as an awareness. I’d spent the last few days with Tanner constantly at my side, and our senses had become finely tuned to each other’s presence.
So when I opened my eyes to see him there, I wasn’t really surprised.
“Sorry,” he said, holding out flowers. They were daisies—the only flowers I really liked—and I briefly wondered how he had known that. Did I mention it, or had he just guessed? Why did he always seem to know things about me without having to be told? “I brought you these.”
I moved to follow him, to try to explain what he’d walked in on, but then I thought better of it. How could I explain when I hardly understood it myself?
Tanner set the flowers on the bedside table. Our eyes met, and then he turned and walked slowly out of the room.
34
Wesley and Tanner were each pallbearers, part of the group responsible for carrying Mary’s coffin upon their shoulders. They lowered it onto the gun carriage while Jamie and I looked on.
The gun carriage dated back over two hundred years, from the royal cavalry artillery. It was the same one that had been used for both my parents’ funerals. Now Mary’s coffin rested upon its sturdy wooden base, covered in draperies of blue, red, and gold. The flower arrangements adorning it were all in white. Roses—Mary’s favorite.
The order was given for the procession to reverse arms and begin their slow march toward Westminster Abbey. Jamie and I followed just behind the carriage, as the only surviving members of the royal family. Polly, Clara, and George, and Aiden and Liam walked just behind us. Behind them were other family friends and a few surviving dignitaries. We all moved to the beat of muffled drums. According to custom, guns fired from Hyde Park at one-minute intervals.
It was almost a mile long, this endless march. But we had no other choice but to continue on toward the Abbey, that high-towered Gothic cathedral that had housed coronations and burials since the days of Queen Elizabeth I. We kept our heads bowed as we neared its spires. Along the way, crowds stood with solemn faces, weeping in handkerchiefs for Mary, their beloved girl queen. Mary, who had died for England.
When we finally arrived, the bearer party removed the coffin and carried it into the ancient hall. Crowds of mourners had already filled every seat in the church. Jamie sat on one side of me in the front row, Polly on the other. She never took h
er hand from my back, and I was grateful. If she had, I was sure I would have fallen over.
All I could think throughout the service was, Too soon. It was too soon, and I’m not ready. Mary, I added, sending her silent waves of love, I miss you. I don’t know how to face this without you. I love you so much, my dear sister.
Once the official ceremony had ended, I walked off to the side of the cathedral. The sun shined brightly through the windows, and it warmed my face.
I saw Tanner’s reflection in the window in front of me. For a moment I thought he was Wesley—they were wearing identical pallbearer uniforms, red regiment jackets over black pants—but then I saw how tall he was and realized my mistake.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice, Eliza.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me around, tilting his gaze downward to look at me more closely.
I shook my head. “Not this time.”
His expression was strained, his jaw tight. There were dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept much.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said, to ease his mind a bit. “You of all people should know I’m stronger than I look. I can handle this.”
“I’m not worried about you.” He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, letting his hand linger there a fraction longer than necessary. “But I have something to tell you.”
I waited, listening.
“The British navy is setting out to explore the oceans on the Ryker ship, to see who else might be out there.” He paused. “And I’m going to go with them.”
“You’re leaving?” I asked, my voice cracking with emotion. Was this because of what he’d walked in on? Of Wesley and me having a moment? Was he so hurt by that that he needed to run away?
“I’m sure you’ll be a big help to them,” I said, looking down. Then I glanced up at the church’s high Gothic spires. “You’ll miss my coronation. It’ll happen right here, you know.”
“If there’s any chance that we can cross the Atlantic, any chance that we can find America and I can track down my sister, I have to take it,” he said, and I understood. “Eliza.” Tanner put a hand under my chin and tilted my face up to look at him. “I’ll take you away from here in a second if you just say the word. I know you never wanted to be a royal. And outside of England you could simply be yourself.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“Think about it,” he insisted. “We could both leave all of this behind, together. I love you, Eliza. I always have and I always will.”
I took a step back and looked around. In the distance I could see the top of Big Ben, where Tanner kissed me for the first time. From inside the church I could hear the organ playing Prelude and Fugue in E-flat, by Johann Sebastian Bach.
“I love you, too, Tanner,” and as I said it, I knew it was true. I did love him, and part of me always would. But Tanner deserved better—someone who would love all of him, who would love only him, and not be torn in different pieces the way I was. “But I can’t leave. As queen I’m going to have more responsibilities than I ever had as a princess. And Jamie needs me more now than ever.”
“But you deserve to be happy, Eliza. Or at least as happy as you can be after all you’ve been through.” His eyes flickered. They were so beautiful, his liquid-brown eyes, so full of warmth and caring. I would miss them.
“Tanner,” I said. “This will make me happy. To rise to this challenge. Here. This is my home. It’s where I belong. I know that now.”
Tanner nodded and took a step back. “Okay,” he said. Then he leaned forward to kiss me one last time on the cheek. But I turned instead, catching the kiss on my lips. It was warm and sweet, and over too soon.
He whispered into my ear, “Just know I’ll always come back for you, Eliza, if you ever need me. All you have to do is say the word.”
And I knew that he would. Tanner’s promises were as good as gold.
EPILOGUE
My first act as queen came before I was queen. I requested that my coronation not be held at Westminster Abbey, where Mary had just been laid to rest a month prior. The new Parliament unanimously approved my suggestion, that the ceremony instead take place outside of London, by the water.
The smell of the surrounding woods permeated the air: red oak, sumac, chestnut, and maple. Horses whinnied and snorted, Caligula among them, as barking dogs kicked dirt from behind their heels.
It was a glorious early spring morning. A cool wind blew in off the water. If you listened carefully enough the tide could be heard lapping upon the shore. Townspeople had arrived from far and wide by horseback and carriage and even by foot. This was the first happy occasion England had seen in a long while and nobody wanted to miss it.
Draped from my shoulders was the same fur-lined cloak Mary had worn the day of her coronation, and Queen Elizabeth before her. The new archbishop held up the jewel-encrusted Windsor crown for all to see.
I stood very still, with my posture straight. This same crown had been stolen by Cornelius Hollister just last year. It was the very one Mary deserved to wear for decades. A single tear dripped down my cheek as it was placed upon on my head.
Faces both new and familiar looked on, a sea of hopeful eyes and half-open mouths belonging to the people who would rebuild our country. All of us, together, would have to do our share. Who we were before Demkoe Ryker, before Cornelius Hollister, even before the Seventeen Days—none of that mattered anymore. We were all on equal ground now.
One good thing had come from Demkoe’s tanker, which the British military now controlled. Oil. There were enough barrels of crude oil stockpiled beneath the tanker’s deck to restore England to its pre–Seventeen Days levels. This meant everyone would once again have heat in their homes to get them warmly through the icy-cold winters, and working ovens, and running automobiles, and gas-driven tractors.
More than that, we had found seeds, of plants we hadn’t seen in England for years. They were already being planted, and many of them were taking to the English soil in surprising new ways. Between that and Mary’s donation of all royal land to public use, no one would starve. And as long as I was queen, I’d vowed they never would again.
I looked at them all now, and I felt hopeful. Our country’s potential for greatness was now limitless. It could only get better with each dawning day.
According to tradition, the archbishop handed me the golden orb and then the golden scepter—the two symbols of royal power carried by every queen at her coronation. It was custom for the sovereign to remain silent during this part of the ceremony.
But this was a new era, and to heck with custom.
The moment I wrapped my fingers around its shaft, I thrust the scepter upward toward the sky and called out, “This power belongs to all of us. I share it with you! Together we will all work toward a new democracy for England!”
After a few seconds of shocked silence—at my blatant departure from the traditional script—the crowd erupted. Their cheers could be heard for miles, across the vast water, the newly seeded fields, and the broken roads, all the way to Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace itself.
Jamie, unable to contain his excitement, ran to me in his princely tuxedo and threw his arms around my waist, nearly toppling me over.
The spectators laughed.
I squeezed him to me, having to toss my scepter and the golden orb into the crowd to do so.
“Long Live England!” they shouted, raising their hands to catch these gifts. “Long Live England!”
The band had been playing a stately march, but they quickly switched to a more upbeat tune: “I Vow to Thee, My Country.”
Everyone sang out:
I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,
Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love;
The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test,
That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;
The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,
The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice!
Polly danced within the circle of her family. Jamie dashed back into the crowd to join them. They clapped their hands, George, Clara, and Aiden and Liam—it was the happiest I’d seen any of them for as long as I could remember.
Part of me wished Tanner could have been here to witness this, but I knew he was where he needed to be right now.
I closed my eyes and said a silent thank-you for all he’d done to help get me here, and then I kept them closed in a moment of remembrance for all who had died. The countless civilians, and soldiers, and rebels. Eoghan. My mother, my father. And Mary—she would be behind every decision I made as queen. I would make her proud.
When I reopened my eyes, I found Wesley in the multitudes, cheering, singing. I looked at his familiar dark-green eyes, the soft curls of his blond hair, and his broad shoulders beneath his dress uniform. He met my gaze, and he didn’t have to say a thing. I could feel the love radiating from him, like a sunbeam.
I couldn’t say for sure what the future held for the two of us; how we would balance being at the center of things while maintaining our quiet, private sides, which had flourished at our little cottage. But somehow I knew we would manage. And one thing I knew for sure—I never stopped loving Wesley, not for one minute. Yes, we would be all right. Just like I had told Jamie, everything was going to be okay.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am forever thankful to Josh Bank, Joelle Hobeika, and Katie McGee at Alloy Entertainment for helping me continue the story of The Last Princess. A huge thanks also to Camille Perri, without whose invaluable and timely help this book would not exist. To my family: my grandmother, Polly Smith; my mother, Sophy Craze; my brother, Jett Craze; my father, Edward Craze; and my wonderful stepmother, Victoria Craze. And most of all, thanks to all the readers, whose love of Eliza’s story made this second book possible.
