Hands fluttered near shoulders, admitting to getting a phone call.
With a quick survey of the crowd, Maxence could see that Celestine had contacted nearly all of them.
Between years of lies about Max to Quentin Sault and certainly others, yesterday’s offer of ordination from Pope Celestine, his kidnapping last night, the time change for the Crown Council meeting today, and the methodical dissemination of the lie that Maxence had accepted Celestine’s offer to be a priest, these attacks seemed to becoordinated.
It might be enough to make Maxence paranoid.
Valentina Martini frowned, lines wrinkling her delicate skin. “How do we know you won’t run off to be ordained?”
“Well, if I did, you could just come back here and elect another prince.”
The entire crowd groaned.
He could see their point. In the past, after a sovereign prince died, his heir was predetermined and confirmed within days. The election was a formality and a celebration to signal the end of mourning.
The previous sovereign, Prince Rainer IV, had suffered a massive, hemorrhagic stroke months before and been kept alive on life support machines for over a month. Politics and infighting had rocked the Crown Council ever since. Pierre had been lobbying the council for years before Rainier IV had died because his election had not been certain.
The nobles were fatigued by months of uncertainty.
Monaco’s citizens were distraught by the chaos in their government.
Yes, it was time to end this.
Maxence spoke to the room. “I am announcing right now that no matter what the result of this Crown Council is, I will not become a priest.”
Marie-Therese had sauntered through the crowd and stood in front of the dais. “That’s just beautiful, Maxence. It’s absolutely heart-warming that you would give up being an impoverished itinerant priest to become a fantastically wealthy and powerful world leader. Kind ofconvenient,isn’t it?”
The levity dropped out of the room.
Maxence said, “It’s notconvenient.The only reason the election is contested is that my brother died, even if it was by his own hand. I’d rather have Pierre back.”
Her callous smirk astounded him. “But Pierre isn’t coming back.”
Max caught his breath. “No, he’s not.”
“And now you show up with your hand out, ready to take the throne.”
“I’ve always been the spare heir for Monaco. Pierre was first in line, but I was the backup.”
Marie-Therese’s sly smile didn’t falter. “That’s easy for you tosay,but that’s not how you’ve lived your life. As soon as you were old enough to leave Monaco, you were gone and never came back. All these years, you haven’tbeen here. I stuck around and worked in the palace on publicity and my social media accounts for the good ofMonaco.”
“You think you should be the sovereign?” Maxence glanced at Prince Jules standing a few feet away from her. “Not your father?”
Marie-Therese reeled out her answer in one long, rehearsed line. “My father’s generation had their chance with Uncle Rainier, and it’s time for fresh blood. I can convert my social media presence into a publicity powerhouse for Monaco.”
Prince Jules took a few steps and stood beside his daughter. He hissed to her, but everyone could hear, “This was not what we agreed on.”
Marie-Therese glanced sideways at her father from under her eyelashes. “It’s justshockinghow things turned out. I’m just asshockedas you are.”
Prince Jules rocked back on his heels and glanced up at Maxence.
Oh, that was interesting.
Marie-Therese was the player.
Her father was just another pawn in her game.
She inhaled hard, swelling her chest and nearly overflowing her low-cut, scarlet dress.
