1
In just a few weeks, Catherine would take the reins of her own country.
And take responsibility for an entire people on her shoulders.
When she was younger, she looked forward to that day, but now that it had nearly arrived, fear crept in. Fear she wouldn't live up to the expectations everyone had of her. Fear she would let them down.
Fear she would let her mother down.
It had been nearly a decade-and-a-half since her mother, Queen Caroline of Eastern Novigradia, had left the crown, throne, and responsibilities to Catherine when she passed suddenly.
Since then, her father had officially acted on her behalf. He let her remain a child for a while then started slowly introducing her to different aspects of the job and what it entailed. He would still help her, give advice when she needed him to, keep a seat on the Council, back her up, but not take back over - even if she asked him to.
The only way she could get out of these responsibilities would be to abdicate and give them to Patrick. That wouldn't work either. He wasn't suited for this job. Neither was Nessa, in line after him. She preferred her artwork and what detractors called "fanciful pursuits." Nataniel was an adventurer. And Issy, the baby of the full siblings, at eighteen was walking in the footsteps of Mumeleine.
Their father had remarried very quickly in order to secure his spot as her regent. In short order, they all came to love Madeleine, the Royal Historian who had helped him do so through her research and the marriage. For a while, they all called Maddie by her name, then Mummy Maddie after the half-siblings started to come along. Somewhere along the line, they smushed Mum and Madeleine together and came up with Mumeleine, though out loud, they often simply called her Mum in private.
Her life was so complicated.
Mumeleine would have adopted all of them in a heartbeat years earlier if not for the implications that came with being part of the royal family.
Catherine walked through the hallways, smiling at and greeting the staff members she passed. She knew some of their names and worked to learn as many as she could. Her mum had imprinted that on her at a very young age. Using someone's name showed you saw them as a person and not simply a servant. Her mum had never thought in those terms. Yes, they worked for the palace, but they were staff members not servants. As staff members, they had a variety of jobs - maid, decorator, chef, kitchen assistant - but none of those made any of them less of a person.
Unfortunately, while the number of staff members in the palace fluctuated, it always stayed in the several hundred range. She did what she could, but had a hard time with those she didn't see often.
It was a good thing she could navigate her way through most of the palace in her sleep, because when she was preoccupied she often had little memory of actually walking from one place to the other.
She rounded a corner and...
Ran straight into something solid.
Something that shouldn't be there.
Something that moved.
And spoke.
"Are you all right, ma'am?" The male voice wasn't familiar.
Catherine nodded and stepped back. "I'm fine..." Her statement cut off before she actually finished the last syllable. In front of her stood a man, a few years older than her if she had to guess, with startling blue eyes. She suspected their color would change with his clothes, the amount of light outside, and quite possibly his mood.
"I'm sorry for not watching where I was going." He also took a small step back, putting more space between them.
She stifled a sigh. She hated it when someone took the blame for something she did, just because she inherited a title.
He gave a faux grimace. "I'm afraid I'm a bit lost."
Or maybe not. "Where are you going?" And why didn't he have an escort? She'd have to look into that - or have someone look into it for her.
"The Royal Archives. I have a meeting with..." He checked the paper in his hand. "...Madeline Woodward Wellington.”
"Of course." Catherine smiled at him, butterflies taking up residence inside. "But you're going the wrong way."
He spun on his heels to face the other direction. "Right." After looking around, he turned back. "I know I don't need to go upstairs." He gave her a side eye. "Do I?"
Catherine laughed, an actual real laugh, not the one she usually used that sounded fit for a queen. Very fewpeople heard her real laugh. "No. You don't." She took a step forward. "I can walk you there."
They started down the corridor.
