Before I decided to reach out to my friends in California, I perused the many news stories that have popped up in the hours since the disastrous event, and I have come to realize that it might be better if I avoid the internet when I can. Not only has the tabloid siteHollywood Hot Scoopgotten wind of today’s adventure—I refuse to read their article, for my sanity—but all of Candora is talking about my blunder. My attempts to fix my lack of knowledge have only put me further behind Grimstad’s popularity, and my heart is heavy.
“Everything okay?” Elliot keeps his voice quiet, but tension is clear in the clipped way he speaks.
I open my eyes to find him watching me with those keen eyes of his. He has been quiet today, more of a soldier than usual, and I have missed his snark. Strange, when it irritated me so much at first.
I gesture to my phone. “I hoped my friends would have ideas for how to proceed, but I fear they are ill-equipped to properly find solutions to my predicament.”
Elliot’s lips twitch up, likely because of my choices of words. I must sound entirely pretentious, though I feel anything but important. I have clearly failed my people for the whole of my life.
“Yeah,” he says, “well, we Americans aren’t always the smartest when it comes to politics.”
“This is less about politics and more about human connection,” I argue. “I am certain the people of Kirkstead needed reassurance that they were being heard and their voices mattered, and I sat there in silence. I had no idea what to say.” When Elliot offers no response to that, I groan and drop my face in my hands. “How can I be so terrible at something I have prepared for my entire life?”
“Campaigning? That’s what you’ve been training for?” When I glare at him, he chuckles and shakes his head. “No one said ruling a country was easy, Princess.”
“At this rate, I will rule nothing but my own life. If that.”
He hums and shifts in his seat, stretching his legs out a bit. “Hypothetically speaking, what happens to your family if someone other than an Alverra is elected to rule?”
Historically, this has never happened, so I do not blame him for wondering. Even with my extensive knowledge of Candoran law, the hypothetical offers an unclear future. “The election process has not always been in place,” I tell Elliot. “It was instated only two centuries ago, when the House of Commons concluded that birthright can become dangerous when left unchecked, and they managed to sway enough lords to their side to pass the vote.
“The change in law never would have happened if the members of Commons had not chosen to propose the idea during the reign of a particularly selfish king who came close to bringing Candora to ruin with his greed. The elections have never gotten in the way of an heir taking the throne, but they have kept my ancestors in check.”
“Smart.” Elliot folds his arms and waits for me to continue.
“This is the part of the law that becomes uncertain. Should someone other than the Alverra heir be chosen by the people to rule, the constitution will change, adapting to a purely electoral monarchy. Much like your government, I suppose, but with longer terms. There will be no line of succession.”
“And your family?”
“We would remain among the nobility and have a seat in the House of Lords, maintaining our assets and some of our influence. But there is some question as to which assets belong to the crown and which belong to the Alverras. For example, my ancestors built the palace where I live, and yet half of the palace is dedicated to the government now. Does the building belong to those who have cared for it and made many cherished memories inside, or does it belong to the kingdom?”
And do we deserve to keep anything we have at all when we are simply the products of time and circumstance?That is a question I am afraid to ask out loud.
“So what you’re saying is everything will be simpler if you beat Grimstad?” Elliot’s eyebrows pull together as he studies me. “No pressure, then.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Yes, that would be simpler.”
“But?”
I should not say what is on my mind, but I do anyway. “But maybe that is part of the problem. Maybe one of the reasons we are ‘out of touch’ with our people is because we have—” I pause when one of his eyebrows lifts ever so slightly. “We’ve—become too ingrained in the monarchy itself.” More thoughts start building in my mind, enough to make my heart beat against my ribs. Thoughts I have never entertained. “What am I if not a princess?”
“I’m sure you’re—”
“It is no wonder I cannot connect with people when I am barely connected to myself. The only time I ever feel like more than just a political figure is when I…” Stopping again, I take a moment to consider what I was about to say.
“When you what?” Elliot asks. I highly doubt this is a conversation he was hoping to have, but I am grateful that he is willing to listen.
“When I am with my friends,” I finish with a frown.
Elliot purses his lips. “Your friends, the super famous celebrities and millionaires?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, those friends. While it is true they are well known, and most of them are wealthy, the heart of our friendship is knowing we are as human as anyone else. We keep each other…” How did Cole put it once? “Grounded. Humble. Or, as humble as we can be, given our circumstances.” I add that last part because Elliot looks like he might laugh.
“You feel normal around them because they’re the only people who come close to your level of importance.” Elliot shifts in his seat again, glancing out the window as his fingers curl into fists. “You’re equals.”
“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask him.
“I’m fine.”
