Sordid Empire

by Julie Johnson

  “Baroness Nye, how good of you to come…”

  And on and on it goes.

  Confronted with a sea of cagey smiles and falsely-bright blessings for our nuptials, I can only hope this strategic move will work; that the wolves circling in this room will cease their support for King Ludwig, now that I’m marrying into their blue-blooded circles.

  The commoner-queen no longer.

  Ludwig himself is here, somewhere, wandering around amidst the canapés and cater-waiters. It’s the first time we’ve been in the same room; the first time we’ve been introduced in any official capacity.

  I must confess, he is not what I was expecting. Absent is the charisma of a leader, the spark of a revolutionary. His personality is dull as the dishwater-brown hue of his hair.

  With a soft, quivering voice — and a body type to match — he stood before me like a bashful child, barely able to meet my gaze or mutter a proper greeting. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was actually frightened to meet the Lancaster Lioness.

  I felt almost sorry for the man — a hapless gazelle, no match for these political schemes he’s found himself embroiled in. Without Octavia to prop him up as a viable candidate for my throne, he might just crumble beneath the weight of his own inadequacies.

  Unfortunately, not all of my enemies possess such weak constitutions. Like a she-devil delivered straight from the innermost ring of Hell, Ava Sterling sidles up to the dais, a malicious smile already affixed to pink-painted lips.

  “Sister,” Alden says stiffly in greeting.

  “Brother,” she sneers coldly back at him. “What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Mother and father are quite beside themselves.”

  “I assume they sent you here to express their disappointment?”

  “Naturally. It’s not as if they could come themselves — you’ve placed them in quite an uneasy predicament by aligning yourself with the imposter queen.”

  “The only imposter here is you, sister. Why did you really come?”

  “To express my sincerest congratulations!” She laughs. “Oh. No. Wait. That wasn’t it. I suppose I came to warn you.”

  “Spare me the pleasure, Ava.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I told you before, brother. I own you. You think you can escape that, merely by relinquishing your title? You think you are any safer from me, now that you’re moving into the palace? We both know I could destroy you with one interview.”

  “And our family’s reputation, in the process.” He shakes his head. “We both know you’d never go that far. Taking me down will ensure your own demise as well.”

  “Don’t test me, Alden. I promise, you won’t like the results.”

  My eyes are zinging back and forth between siblings, attempting to decipher their volley of words. It is conversational ping-pong; a threat-laden sparring match full of subtext I cannot understand.

  “You should be happy — with me out of the way, you’ll inherit,” Alden reminds her. “You’re the heir to Westgate, now.”

  She scoffs. “A pittance, when I was meant to be the queen.”

  “Why can’t you ever be satisfied?” he asks.

  “Satisfaction is for fools. You should know that better than anyone, Alden — you’ve never been satisfied a day in your life. But how could you be, when you’re living a lie?”

  “Ava,” he snaps. “That’s enough.”

  She laughs again. “You aren’t the king yet, brother. You cannot command me to be silent.”

  “What is it you want? Hmm?”

  She leans closer, her eyes locked with his. “I want you to know you are making a mistake of the highest magnitude.”

  “That is a matter of opinion.”

  “That is a fact.” She shakes her head. “Going against me? Unwise. Going against your family? Unforgivable.”

  Alden steps closer to me, his posture stiffening. “Emilia is my family now, Ava.”

  She laughs bitterly, her icy hazel eyes finally sliding my way. “Is that so? She doesn’t seem your usual type.”

  “Don’t make a scene.” Alden’s teeth are clenched. “What would mother and father say?”

  “Oh, trust me, if they were here they would have some choice words for you. Their golden child, their prodigal son… How very sharp your fall from grace has been.”

  I snort, unable to keep silent any longer. “Only a Sterling would consider becoming the King Consort of Germania a social misstep.”

  “No one asked you.” Ava turns to me, her sneer intensifying. “You think you’re clever, because you’ve tricked my brother into this alliance? You aren’t. You’ve merely assured his downfall along with your own. I hope you’re quite happy together, when it all falls apart at the seams.”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes, highly aware of the attention fixed on us from all sides. “Your threats are growing thin, Ava. I met your precious Ludwig. He has all the authority of a wet mop. There’s no chance in hell he can pull off this power-coup, even with the financial backing of your family. If you try to take me on, you will fail. And then you — not your brother — will have tarnished the Sterling name beyond repair.”

  Her smile widens, reminding me of a shark. “You think you’re so high and mighty now, don’t you? The Lancaster Lioness. Emilia the Liberator. Looking down on everyone from your sad little throne, feeling safe because there’s a crown on your head.” She leans in, whispering. “A far cry from the meek mouse you were when our paths first had the misfortune of crossing.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound almost impressed, Ava.”

  “Impressed? No. Amused? Certainly.” She clucks out a tsk sound with her tongue. “You think you’ve won this round, but you don’t even understand the game being played here. Nor do you realize you’ve aligned yourself with the most dangerous player of all.”

  “Ava,” Alden growls in warning.

  She ignores him, still staring into my eyes. “Allow me to let you in on a little secret — you know, since we are to be sisters soon.”

  “Ava,” Alden snaps again, harsher this time.

  She doesn’t heed him. “My brother may appear the perfect gentleman — the perfect husband-to-be — but I know him better than anyone on this planet. Trust me when I tell you that beneath his sweet smiles and kind words, he is made from the same fabric as me, stitched with the same tendencies you so loathe.” Her pale brows arch. “You think this marriage will protect you? It will not. And I, for one, cannot wait for the day you realize the man you’ve chosen as your salvation has wrought your ultimate destruction.”

  A chill shivers down my spine as Ava turns on her designer heels and walks away, her words lingering in the air around us like smog.

  Alden moves closer, his arm brushing mine. “Do not let her upset you,” he murmurs. “My sister is like a cat — when feeling cornered, she lashes out with sharp claws. Her venom is a symptom of our victory, nothing more.”

  His words are meant to be a comfort, but I cannot shake the uneasiness Ava stirred inside me.

  “Right. I know,” I lie. “Of course.”

  I paste a smile back on my lips and turn to greet our next well-wishers. But for the duration of the engagement party, Ava’s words are never far from my mind.

  You’ve aligned yourself with the most dangerous player of all.

  As I peek at my fiancé from the corner of my eye… smiling warmly at a pudgy couple from Lund, laughing kindly at a poorly-timed joke… I cannot help wondering whether it is, in fact, possible for two siblings raised under the same roof, by the same awful parents, to turn out so radically different.

  One good and genuine.

  The other cold and calculating.

  Ava Sterling is a liar, I think, staring at my future husband. A man I know to be sweet and steady. A man who offers stability and surety where, before, there was only chaos and uncertainty.

  He would not deceive me.

  He would never hurt me.

  I wish I could somehow erase
the seeds of doubt now sewn into those words.

  By the time the engagement party ends, I’m thoroughly worn out. Hours of fake smiling and forced greetings have depleted my social reserves to the dregs. I bid Alden goodbye, allowing him to plant a lingering kiss on my cheek and promising to see him tomorrow.

  More photo-ops.

  More publicity tours.

  More posing as the perfect couple.

  My footsteps ring out in the abandoned castle hallways as I make my way from the throne room to my chambers. It’s bizarre to think they won’t be mine for much longer.

  With the wedding rapidly approaching, we’ve officially broken ground on the new East Wing — a replacement for the one that burned down in last fall’s fatal fire. Construction will take several months to complete… but it should be done by the time Alden and I exchange vows.

  A new wing for a new king and queen.

  It’s difficult for me to imagine sharing a bed with Alden. Kissing him. Touching him in a way that extends beyond occasional hand-holding or brotherly forehead kisses.

  I try not to let my mind wander to inevitable truths — that we will, eventually, need to produce an heir. That, in the absence of immaculate conception, we will be doing more than sleeping side by side in our marriage bed.

  My eyes pressed closed, shutting out the thoughts.

  Why does even the prospect of sleeping with another man feel like the ultimate betrayal?

  I climb into bed, trying not to think about Carter but failing miserably.

  He’s back in Switzerland by now. Living his life. I wonder if news of the engagement has reached him yet. If he is tossing and turning beneath his own sheets, consumed by the same rage and sadness simmering in my veins.

  A soft knock at my door has my eyes springing open.

  “It’s Chloe.”

  “Come in,” I call, sitting up against my pillows.

  A second later, a warm body lands on the bed beside me, snuggling beneath the covers.

  “Hi,” she murmurs.

  “Hi.”

  “Figured you might want to talk. We didn’t get the chance to debrief, earlier, with all those people here. How are you feeling?”

  I sigh. “It was a long day. I’m exhausted.”

  “I meant emotionally.”

  “So did I.”

  Her head hits my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, E. I promise.”

  “You don’t think I made a colossal mistake?”

  “I don’t.” She pauses. “I think, as usual, you are putting your country’s needs before your own. That’s honorable. It’s brave.”

  “I just hope it’s enough to keep Ludwig off the throne.”

  “It will be. Did you notice, my lovely mother was too scared to put in an appearance? Even the Sterlings didn’t dare show their faces.”

  “Ava was here.”

  “I saw.” Chloe sighs. “I’m guessing she was full of warm wishes.”

  “Oh, totally. I’m thinking of asking her to be a bridesmaid.”

  A snort pops out of Chloe’s mouth. “What a good idea.”

  “Speaking of bridesmaids…” I trail off.

  “Mmm?”

  “Would you be my maid-of-honor?”

  She sucks in a sharp breath. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Oh, E! Of course I will!” She pulls me into a rib-cracking hug. “I’ve never been in a wedding party before.”

  “Me neither. Certainly not as the one getting married.” I pause. “When I was a little girl picturing my wedding day, I didn’t exactly envision… this.”

  “Well, as grooms go, you’re hitting the jackpot with Alden. He looks like a Ken doll from the Barbie dream bridal set.”

  “It’s not just about the groom, though. It’s also…”

  “What?”

  “Not having my Mom there to button my dress and bustle my train and give me a pep talk if I get cold feet…” I blink rapidly to keep my eyes from watering. “And also… not having a father there to walk me down the aisle.”

  “If your Mom was here, she would be so proud of you. So would Linus.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.” She elbows me softly. “And I realize this wedding won’t be the perfect day you dreamed up as a kid. You won’t have your parents by your side. But, for whatever it’s worth… you’ve got me. I’ll help button your dress and bustle your train, whatever the hell that means. And I’m more than happy to kick your ass down the aisle if you get cold feet. I’ve got your back, sis.”

  I laugh. “Even if Octavia makes a leap for my crown and Ava tries to trip me?”

  “Especially then.”

  I put my head on her shoulder and allow her to stroke my hair. “Thanks, Chloe.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Has…” I swallow. “Has the news of the engagement spread outside Germania, yet?”

  Chloe’s hand freezes in my hair. “You mean… has the news reached Switzerland, specifically?”

  I press my lips together. She knows what I’m asking, even if I can’t voice the question.

  She sighs. “The news is trending worldwide on every news channel and social media outlet. I’m sure… certain people… in Switzerland… have heard by now.”

  So he knows.

  I wonder why that knowledge affects me so strongly.

  “E… he was going to find out eventually.”

  “I know that.” I suck in a sharp breath. “I just didn’t know how hard it was going to be. How much I’d want to reach out to him.”

  “Love doesn’t go away simply because you put a national border through the middle of it.”

  “Will it ever get easier?”

  “Do you want the honest answer? Or the one that will make you feel better?”

  “Honest.”

  She’s silent for a long while, gathering her thoughts. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.

  “In a lot of ways, I think walking away from true love is like being an addict in recovery. The craving — it never fully dies. Not with space. Not even with time. No matter how over it you think you are, no matter how much you’ve moved on… once you’re hooked on someone, you’ll never be free again. A lifetime might pass without seeing them, but then… you bump into them in a coffee shop or on a street corner, and suddenly you’re right back where you started. Desperate for the fix of their touch. Aching for just one hit of their company. Addicted all over again.” She shakes her head sadly. “There isn’t a twelve-step program in the world that can cure you of true love. That kind of soul connection… it’s a life sentence.”

  The following weekend, Alden and I make our first public appearance as an official couple, attending the Easter Sunday services at Windsor Abbey — along with what appears to be half the kingdom. When our limo rolls to a stop at the curb, I’m taken aback by the size of the crowd. There must be three hundred people huddled on the sidewalks, pressed up against the crowd-control barriers my security team has erected.

  Quite the turnout, even for Jesus.

  Come to find out, most of them are there to snap photos of the new royal couple making their entrance rather than actually attend the sermon.

  “It’s them!”

  “Queen Emilia!”

  “Lord Sterling!”

  “Over here!”

  They swoon and squeal when Alden offers me his arm to lead me out of the car, cheering for us with unabashed enthusiasm. Stepping onto the sidewalk, I slide my hand over his tailored blue suit sleeve and attempt to smile naturally as cameras flash at us from all sides.

  “Ready?” Alden asks, arching blond brows at me.

  I nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

  My guards form a tight perimeter as we make our way up the abbey steps. One at a time, a slow march upward, stopping periodically to wave and nod to our supporters. I’ve grown so used to doing this alone, it’s odd to have a partner by my side — someone else to bear the bru
nt of public attention.

  Welcome to the new reality.

  The ornate Windsor Abbey spires jut upward into a robin’s egg blue sky. It’s a beautiful building — one of the most renowned cathedrals in the entire world. Tourists travel from all over the globe to see its stunning stained glass windows and domed roof. They wait in line for hours to take guided tours of the fresco ceiling murals, to light a prayer candle, to breathe the holy air that saturates the inner sanctum.

  No one has been married here in a generation — not since King Leopold and Queen Abigail tied the knot nearly three decades ago. According to Chloe, that was always a bone of contention with her mother: the fact that she and Linus were not permitted to put their union on display in this grandest of chambers.

  If not for the fire, it would’ve been Crown Prince Henry and Ava Sterling exchanging rings this summer — rather than her brother and me. The next time I’m walking up these steps, it will be in a wedding gown, on my way to say ‘I do’ to the man walking by my side. The thought is startling enough to make me stumble on the steps.

  Alden steadies me instantly, his hold tightening on my arm. “Are you all right, my dear?”

  “Fine,” I lie weakly. “Just these new heels, tripping me up.”

  But I’m not fine.

  Not at all.

  Images of white veils and flower bouquets are flashing through my head as camera flashes go off around me without reprieve. I try to breathe through the sudden sensation of panic overriding my system, but now that I’m here — climbing the same steps I’ll traverse on my wedding day, just four short months from now — my heart is slamming against my ribcage like a battle axe.

  I am getting married.

  To my wedded husband.

  Till death do us part.

  I wish Chloe were here. With one pithy comment she’d be able to calm me down. Unfortunately for me, my sister — Chloe “Jesus Isn’t Really My Thing” Thorne — decided to stay home this morning, opting to binge-watch the latest season of our favorite trashy teen vampire show instead of taking in a church service.

  Hauling fortifying gulps of air in through my nose, I focus on making it to the top of the steps, leaning on Alden the entire way. Things are somewhat tamer inside the church. Instead of overeager Instagrammers, the pews are full of well-dressed elites in elaborate fascinator hats and understated floral dresses, accessorized with the entire spring handbag collection from Paris Fashion Week. We step through the doors and they part before us like the Red Sea before Moses — a fitting analogy, given our current location.