“How can you be sure?” I whisper.
The look he gives me feels like a hug, so full of warmth and support that his thoughts are tangible between us. “Because you are the best person for Candora, and your people know that. Trust me.”
I trust this man more than I trust anyone, especially myself, but he cannot know what is going to happen. As much as I want to be the queen the people choose, I would rather automatically take the position than leave my country scrambling to adapt. What if Markham wins the vote but declines? I do not know what would happen, whether I would be given the crown as the next best choice or if we would fall into a state of disorder that I have worked so hard to avoid.
“Elliot,” I hiss, “why would you—”
The back door opens, and the whole room turns to watch Secretary Ashlund step into the room, a locked tablet in his hand.
I grab Elliot’s hand just before my body freezes up and leaves me unable to move.
Ashlund climbs the stairs onto the stage, pausing at the top and taking in the scene before him. Me, holding my bodyguard’s hand for dear life. Markham, holding his injured arm with a green tint to his skin. My mum, hands clasped together and pressed to her mouth.
Ashlund is a quiet man in his late forties who keeps to himself until he’s in front of a camera. At that point, he flips on a switch and becomes confident and well-spoken and able to answer any question thrown at him. But what he sees tonight seems to knock him off balance, and his first step forward falters until he remembers himself and stands tall at the podium.
“Good evening,” he says into the microphone as the cameras flash.
Elliot squeezes my hand, then tugs his fingers free and steps back to his place.
I still feel like my body has turned to ice, but I manage to shift and stand at Markham’s side, facing the press.
“On behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Ingrid,” Ashlund says, “I wish to thank the citizens of Candora for their participation in this unprecedented election and the continued upholding of the democracy of our nation. As you are all aware, we are here to announce the next Candoran Monarch to succeed Queen Ingrid Alverra, who has chosen to step down from her rule. Her Majesty recorded her Abdication Address in private this morning and therefore will not be speaking to us tonight, but the address will be available online and broadcast tomorrow at noon.”
She did? I glance at my mother, whose eyes are on her lap now as she softly cries. I knew it would be difficult for her to step down, but I wonder if this transition will be harder than I realized. Particularly if she gave her speech in private, when she has never been one to shy away from the public. Perhaps, like with my brothers, I have a lot to learn about my mother as well.
“As of six o’clock on the evening of September twenty-first in the three hundred and forty-seventh year of Candora, all votes have been counted and verified.” My head starts buzzing. “I would like to remind the people of Candora that should they feel an appeal is necessary contrary to the results of this election, they must file their complaint with their local leadership no later than September twenty-fourth at nine a.m.” Oh, I had forgotten about the appeals. “I also remind the press that any information published that goes against the election result ruling as set forth by the combined House of Lords and House of Commons election committees is considered in contempt of the law and will be punished according to the law set forth in the Candoran First Charter and Constitution.”
Will he not get to the point? I make eye contact with my friends, finding strength and comfort in their support. Liam gives me two thumbs up and a cheesy grin that coaxes a laugh out of me, and Cole exaggerates taking a breath, silently urging me to do the same. Derek smiles his ever-confident smile, telling me he will always be there for his friends.
I will be okay. No matter what happens.
“After a thorough and secure counting process, I am honored to officially announce that Freya Isolde Marit Alverra has won the ninth Candoran royal election with seventy-four percent of the vote, securing more than 400,000 votes.”
Ashlund keeps talking, going off about The Crown’s dedication to stability and prosperity and when the coronation will take place barring an appeals process, but I barely hear him.
I won.
I am going to be queen.
Every ounce of my energy is being used to hold myself together. I want to laugh, cry, sink into a heap on the floor and stay there for days becauseI won. I can hardly believe it.
But I am not imagining things because Liam and Carissa both jump up and start cheering before Hank and Kasey drag them back into their seats. Cole and Bonnie are smiling and crying at once and have never looked prouder. Derek’s expression is muted compared to the others, but I don’t think he is hiding anything. He is simply happy. Maybe a bit relieved.
My brothers have reined in their enthusiasm and are grinning in their place behind our parents, but I am certain they will be climbing through the secret passage to my bedroom tonight to celebrate with me. Catching their eyes, I try to convey my gratitude for their support, especially during the last few weeks, but I can only look at them so long before tears spring to my eyes.
Dad and Mum are in each other’s arms. She is sobbing, and I hope they are happy tears, but they likely have a bittersweet edge. Dad is smiling at me as he pats Mum’s arm, and while he has never enjoyed politics, he is proud of the choices I have made to get here.
And Elliot…
I’m afraid to turn to look at him, but I don’t have to. I can feel his love, even from feet away, and if I close my eyes, I can imagine his arms around me as he speaks soft words of approval in my ear.He knew. He knew I would win, and he knew that I would never fully believe I was right for the position if it was given to me by default. I refuse to think what might have happened had he not been brought into my life when he was.
All of this is because of him.
I love you, I say in my head, hoping he can somehow hear me.
I love you.
I love you.
