Yes, the firestorm had just started.
But for Daffy, Monday was the beginning of Daffy 3.0. Maybe all was not lost with Gus, but they had a steep pathway to climb.
She’d tossed and turned most of the night, wondering if she’d given up too soon. If she should’ve said yes to Gus. Was she forgetting how she’d embraced courage during their trek to the Hand of God and not giving in to fear?
Then Mum’s encouragement that she was being wise, even courageous, with the choices she was making now, spoke through. Let the Family deal with the fallout.
Twice she almost texted Gus. At one in the morning, then three. But then she played out the scenario of going up to Hadsby, facing the Family, the guests, the press—and she put aside her phone.
By mid-morning she’d reached out to the companies who had her résumé and began creating new online profiles.
A knock sounded on her door, followed by the chime of the bell.
“Daffy.” A soft call bled through the door. “It’s Catherine.”
Daffy jumped up from her desk in the corner by the windows. Catherine? The queen? She reached for a hair tie and corralled her wild mane on the way to the door. When she opened it, the Queen of Lauchtenland stood in the hall with a box in her hand.
“Your Majesty.” Her sock slipped across the floor when she curtsied.
“May I come in?”
“Yes, please.” Daffy stood aside, then peeked in the hall to see a protection officer surveying the perimeter. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“That would be lovely.” She set the box down on the coffee table, along with her handbag. Dressed in jeans, which she never wore in public, and a jumper, the queen appeared serene. At peace. The wide, colorful headband wrapping up her dark tresses represented the people she ruled and served.
“Your place is lovely.” She crossed to the windows, her posture erect, but not imposing. “The night view must be spectacular.”
“It’s why I bought the place. I apologize for the paint fumes, but we freshened up my room yesterday.”
“We?”
“Mum, Dad, Ella.” Daffy’s hands shook as she set out the remaining scones. Was that a spot on the plate? She retrieved a new one and set the dirty one in the sink.
“I always loved your family.” The queen joined her at the island. “We watched your friend’s piece last night.”
“She’s not my friend.” Daffy set out two cups, the loose tea, cream, sweeteners. “And I am sorry. So, so sorry. I wish I could rewind the past few weeks but—”
“No, I’m the one who is sorry. Deeply sorry.” She paused for a moment, looking away briefly then back again. “Daffy, I treated you cruelly. I blamed you for things you had nothing to do with. I banned you from the upstairs out of fear and shame, worried your pure heart would say what my prideful one could not. That I had a child out of wedlock. That I gave her away to the man I loved, her father, and never looked back. That I put my royal duty above her.”
The queen pressed her fingertips to her trembling lips, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I’m not sure any of us would’ve chosen differently, ma’am. You were in a precarious position.”
The queen nodded. “Perhaps, but I should’ve been honest. I’ve learned the hard way that the truth sets us free…but there is often pain in the process. I could have avoided so much pain…for so many of us…if only I’d been honest.”
“Have you talked to her?” Daffy stood on one side of the island, the queen on the other.
“Not yet. I wanted to speak to you first. I’m not sure Scottie even knows. Trent’s not called so there’s a bit left to untangle.”
“Is she in line to the throne?” Daffy reached for the steaming kettle and filled their cups.
“Patent letters dictate the firstborn of the married crown, prince or princess. We’re not entirely modern. There is value in legal marriage.”
“So what now?”
“I’m not sure. My secretary tells me every major news outlet in the world wants information. The Chamber Office can barely manage the requests for interviews and statements, everyone trying to discover the whole truth. I pray sweet, little Hearts Bend is not being overrun. Ms. Parker, for all her bold reveal, left a lot of unanswered questions.”
“What about you, Your Majesty? Your family? What abouttheFamily?” One private, one public.
