— News at Noon with Tamma Tucker
“Prince John Deputized to Represent the Queen. What implications does this have on his investiture? Live update at five.”
— LTV-1
“Chamber Office Assured of the Queen’s Recovery.”
— Headline, the News Leader
“I mean it’s ridiculous, don’t you think? The queen is ill and we have to jet the crown prince home to swear a temporary oath as her deputy? What are the elected officials for if not to execute their duty to represent and protect the people? And we still have the issue of the marriage writ. If she dies, God forbid, and John is not married, has not taken his permanent oath, do we have a constitutional crisis? Does the government dissolve at once? We can’t be formed in a dead queen’s name, now can we?”
— Video of Hamish Fickle from the parliament floor
“The Justice Ministry’s investigation on the sale of the Midlands property to Reingard Industries after Eloise Ltd. filed a complaint against the textile giant last month is ongoing as well as the civil case between the two clothing manufacturers.”
— Cable News PF
“Hamish Fickle is such a doll. Is it weird to have a crush on a political chap?”
— @ImYerGurl on Instagram
Chapter Seventeen
John
Perrigwynn Palace
Port Fressa, Lauchtenland
“Is everything ready?” John greeted the Steward of the Dining Hall, Latham, wearing a white tie, his skin and shoes buffed to a sheen.
“Indeed, Your Royal Highness.” In his sixties, the man had been setting up for royal and state dinners for three decades. “The cocktail hour begins on the hour, as the guests arrive. You will dine at half past. The hall is ready, the table set, the menus and placards at every place setting. Chef George’s staff has everything under command, so I expect no delays. A quartet will play in the foyer until the speeches. Do you have any specific questions?”
“What inquires did the queen make before every dinner?” John shifted his shoulders against the stiff confines of his tuxedo. He missed the T-shirt and shorts he wore in the Tennessee barn full of rescues—including himself and a brunette beauty.
Their kiss in the rain still lived in his memory.
What might have transpired if he’d not been called home? He wondered if that early morning call hadn’t rescued him from his own folly.
“She inspected the table, sir, then said, ‘Very good, Lath. I see you have it under your usual control.’”
Without a reply, John walked the length of the dining hall, taking it all in, his nerves glancing toward the edge. He’d attended six or seven state dinners in his thirty-one years, but never as the leader, never sitting in the Head of State chair.
The hall glistened and glowed with wall sconces flickering against hand woven wall tapestries depicting Lauchtenland’s history.
A row of Schonbek chandeliers showered light over a table set for a hundred and fifty with white bone china rimmed in gold. Polished gold and silver vessels awaited use on the buffet.
“Sir, is everything to your satisfaction?”
“Yes, as the queen said, I see you have it under your usual control.”
Nevertheless, John shouldn’t be here in place of the queen. She was the monarch, the leader of the land. The pundits took large swings at him when he took the temporary oath of office, to stand in for Her Majesty.
“What happened to the marriage writ? Are we just changing things as we go along, making up laws that suit us? If so I’ve got a few things I’d like changed.”
“Should he marry just to be married? I don’t get this writ. What is the point?”
“We’ve a temporary king? Does he have all rights and privileges of the office, of the throne?”
