Page 77 of Royally Yours
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Reginald answered. Thankfully, she’d phrased it in a way that he didn’t have to lie. I swallowed hard, worried that her next question would be to see the envelope in question. It wasn’t a love letter by any means, but any positive interaction, even friendship, would be perceived as a threat.
“Give it here,” she rose and started around the couch, “I want to read it.”
“Blimey, Aunt Mariah.” Bishop exploded to his feet, halting my mother’s mad dash. “No wonder he’s hesitant to be king. You’re still treating him like a child.” He scoffed. “I’m surprised you’re not shoving him out of the way to take the throne.”
To my surprise, my father laughed. “It’s not like she hasn’t asked, mind you. She’s put in her hat more than once, begging me to change the law before I croak.”
“Is that true?” I almost missed the sound of the door closing behind Reginald. “You want to reign?”
She wasn’t so cool when the focus landed her in a less than flattering light. Shifting and sighing, she pinned her lips, then frowned. “It would solve our problems, wouldn’t it? The family would keep the crown, you wouldn’t have to take the throne prematurely, and in all honesty, isn’t it about time?” Mother squared her shoulders. “I would be the first woman to rule Nolcovia, and I would continue your father’s legacy.”
“I’m not even in the ground yet and she’s planning her coronation…” Father meant it like a joke, but it landed heavily. She rushed back to his side, kneeling at his feet as she took his hands.
“My love, you know it’s not what I want. My sole wish is for us to age together, but if losing you is inevitable, wouldn’t it be best to maintain order?”
Was she insinuating that I would breed chaos? I glanced at Bishop, but he widened his eyes as if to warn me to stay quiet. Why would he… wait. He’d planned that perfectly to distract her. Was that possible? Was Bishop actually… helping me?
“Look, Aunt Mariah,” Bishop stuck his hands in his pockets and walked as if the weight of the country didn’t rest on the people who were in the room, “you were looking for a way to endear your people to the crown again, yes? In show business, all drama is good drama, correct?” He looked at me, eyebrows slightly elevated. “How about Leo backs off the American troublemaker?” His stare shifted to Mother where she still kneeled on the floor. “But we keep her around for rating’s sake? I know everyone I’ve talked to can’t believe she keeps making it through the choosing ceremonies. After all, her time rarely broadcasts. We can talk to the producers, bury this footage, and she can keep spying on behalf of the crown, yeah?”
They exchanged a look, but it didn’t surprise me that Father issued his acceptance with a silent nod.
“I don’t want to see you behave like that again. Do you understand me?” Mother’s voice tightened like a noose. “I’ll take matters into my own hands, Leonidas. Don’t tempt me.”
I nodded, so she knew I understood, but in reality, I was already planning my way around it and everything would start the moment Reginald delivered that envelope.
Michaela
Ishuddered again as I thought about dinner. Fish head soup. I gagged the second they put it in front of me. Dahlia held my bedroom door open for me. “I can see if there’s more bread, milady. I hate the idea of you going to bed without food.”
She’d told me at least eight times how crazy she thought I was not to eat the soup. Apparently, it was the chef’s specialty. I didn’t care if it was the queen’s favorite and guzzling it down would win her approval. It smelled like a fish tank that needed cleaning. Or maybe a sewer.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I’m not sure I’ll ever eat again.”
She eyed me, unsure if I was being serious or not. Sarcasm and hyperbole were lost on her.
“Would you like me to set out your nightclothes?”
“No,” I pressed my lips together and walked to the window, “I can manage it.” The moon rested high in the night’s sky, casting an ethereal glow over the snowy blanket that covered the grounds. They always ate late in the palace, or at least the rest of us did. It had to be near nine. The producers had asked us to stay late, recording confessionals and soundbites. The rest of them acted like it was an adventure, but maybe I’d seen enough reality TV to know they could twist our words to fit whatever narrative they wanted. I didn’t think it would matter for me, after all, I’d never land the final cut. To my surprise, Tom insisted on a few thoughts from my side.
I chewed on the inside of my lip, worried I might not have gotten it right. Hurting Fitz wasn’t on my agenda, and I chose my words carefully, keeping them generic. But it might not matter in the end.
“You can call it a night, Dahlia.” I couldn’t pull my stare away from the window, mesmerized by the flakes that still fell. Triggered by the chill, my mind swept back to that morning. I hadn’t seen Fitz all day, not since we’d come back. I even tried the passageway earlier, but his room was empty. I kicked myself for being impulsive.
“Yes, milady.” Dahlia curtsied and walked toward the door. “His Highness is going to spend time with Minny, I think that’s what you call her, so you don’t have to wake up early. I know how you despise mornings.”
I almost smiled at the thought but knowing what I had planned with Bishop weighed on my mind. We’d overheard some sinister plot, and I had to be there to know what the queen was planning. But as midnight loomed closer, my bravery faded.
A knock thudded against the door, finally breaking my focus away from the snowscape outside. Dahlia covered the distance quickly and pulled back the door. A deep voice rumbled, but I couldn’t understand his words, too hushed and careful to betray the content. Dahlia said a few words, gave a short curtsy and closed the door.
“Milady,” she held up a small envelope, “you have a message from Prince Leonidas. Reginald said he tried earlier, but you were at dinner and then with the recording team when he tried again. He said he was moments away from abandoning the mission entirely.” Her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. “Maybe the prince changed his mind about the date in the morning. Maybe he’s selecting you after all.”
Considering my secret mission in Nolcovia, I doubted that deeply, but my mind still raced ahead like a schoolgirl with a crush. My finger hooked into the seal and popped it open. Inside, my fingers gripped a small card and pulled it free.
At your earliest convenience.
The words were written below the embossed shape of a frog. To the left of the frog, he’d drawn three quick lines stacked on each other. Of course, he had to be vague. For whatever reason, our friendship was forbidden within the walls of the palace. Keeping it hidden had become a hobby of his.
Dahlia stared at the card from over my shoulder. “What does that mean?”