And yet, Maxence could hear a storm raging.
Dree pointed beyond the cheering crowd to the statue of Maxence’s ancestor once removed, François the Malicious. The noble lord had stolen the fortress from another Genovese family by dressing up as a humble monk and conniving his way through the gate, where he’d murdered the guards and flung open the defenses to allow the Grimaldi army to pour through. The plaque at the base of the statue readMalizia,a reminder that Maxence had read a thousand times.
She said, “There’s that creeper again.”
Maxence chuckled, a pinpoint of levity in the tumultuous day.
They walked a few more paces. The roiling sea of faces around them wove in and out of Maxence’s vision as he strolled, seemingly unconcerned that the mob might spill over the ropes and drown them in a sea of bodies.
Dree slowed, examining the bronze statue beyond the throng of watchers. The figure itself was about ten feet high, so François the Malicious was always looking over a crowd surrounding the castle gate.
Dree looked up at Maxence. “Is that why you wanted to be a priest? Like François the Malicious, your grandfather or great-uncle or whoever he was, who disguised himself as a monk so the guards would think he was harmless?”
Maxence stopped walking, shocked into stillness.“What?”
“No, seriously, that’s pretty much what you did,” Dree bantered on. “All these years, you told everybody you wanted to be a priest so they would think you’re harmless, and yet you ended up on the throne as the sovereign prince. Did youwantto be harmless, or did you know you were dangerous and justpretendingto be harmless so they’d let you inside the gate so you could take the throne?”
Maxence started walking again. “That can’t be right.”
“No, really, it all fits. You pretended to be a monk so you could take the fortress.”
“No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all,” Maxence growled.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Enthronement
Maxence
After a brunch reception for some of the more prominent Monegasque nobles and foreign dignitaries, a few hours had been left unscheduled so Maxence could rest before the ceremony.
Maxence and Dree napped in their apartment.
She held his hand while they slept.
Then, after another shower and shave, Tommaso dressed Maxence for the evening.
Tux.
Decorations.
Royal orders and medals.
On the other side of the bathroom, stylists surrounded Dree in a blizzard of makeup powders, hair spray, and the red silk of her gown.
Because they weren’t married yet, Dree couldn’t take an official part in the ceremonies, so she was sitting in his cousin Alexandre’s box with his wife, Georgie.
Casimir and Arthur hadn’t managed to bring their wives to the enthronement, owing to concerns with Casimir’s law practice and Arthur’s new baby, who was now three months old, but Gen and Rox had already sent in their RSVPs for the wedding in two months.
Every previous enthronement of a Prince of Monaco had taken place in the throne room. However, the last few months had caused such trauma to Monaco’s citizens, what with the foreign divorce of the heir apparent to the throne and then the deaths of the sovereign and the heir. Thus, Maxence had decided the enthronement ceremony should be an elaborate, public celebration to end the mourning period and allow people to begin to move on from their grief.
To accommodate hundreds of citizens and honored guests, the spectacle had to be moved to the Court of Honor, the courtyard inside the palace walls.
Plus, Maxence hadenhancedthe ceremony somewhat.
It wasn’t for his own aggrandizement.
In the past, after the new prince took the throne, the nobles would swear a personal oath of fealty to the new sovereign, and it all became rather, well, authoritarian-strongmanish.
