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“My schedule—”

“Has been rearranged. While there, you’ll attend several functions in my stead. I’m needed here. ”

“I assume you’ll be working on the House of Commons? Persuading the arseholes to finally do their job?”

“I’m glad you brought that up. ” My grandmother crosses her arms. “Do you know what happens to a monarchy without a stable line of heirs, my boy?”

My eyes narrow. “I studied history at university—of course I do. ”

“Enlighten me. ”

I lift my shoulders. “Without a clear succession of uncontested heirs, there could be a power grab. Discord. Possibly civil war between different houses that see an opportunity to take over. ”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. And my palms start to sweat. It’s that feeling you get when you’re almost to the top of that first hill on a roller coaster. Tick, tick, tick…

“Where are you going with this? We have heirs. If Henry and I are taken out by some catastrophe, there’s always cousin Marcus. ”

“Cousin Marcus is an imbecile. He married an imbecile. His children are double-damned imbeciles. They will never rule this country. ” She straightens her pearls and lifts her nose. “There are murmurings in Parliament about changing us to a ceremonial sovereignty. ”

“There are always murmurings. ”

“Not like this,” she says sharply. “This is different. They’re holding up the trade legislation, unemployment is climbing, wages are down. ” She taps the screen. “These headlines aren’t helping. People are worried about putting food on their tables, while their prince cavorts from one luxury hotel to another.

We need to give the press something positive to report. We need to give the people something to celebrate. And we need to show Parliament we are firmly in control so they’d best play nicely or we’ll run roughshod over them. ”

I’m nodding. Agreeing. Like a stupid moth flapping happily toward the flame.

“What about a day of pride? We could open the ballrooms to the public, have a parade?” I suggest. “People love that sort of thing. ”

She taps her chin. “I was thinking something…bigger. Something that will catch the world’s attention. The event of the century. ” Her eyes glitter with anticipation—like an executioner right before he swings the ax.

And then the ax comes down.

“The wedding of the century. ”

 

 

 

MY WHOLE BODY LOCKS UP. And I think my organs begin to shut down. My voice is rough with pointless, illogical hope.

“Is Great-Aunt Miriam marrying again?”

The Queen folds her hands on the desk. A terrible sign. That’s her tell—it says her mind is made up and not even a gale-force wind could sway her off course.

“When you were a boy, I promised your mother that I would give you the space to choose a wife for yourself, as your father chose her. To fall in love. I’ve watched and waited, and now I’ve given up waiting. Your family needs you; your country needs you. Therefore, you will announce the name of your betrothed at a press conference…at the end of the summer. ”

Her declaration breaks me out of my shock and I jump to my feet. “That’s five bloody months from now!”