I take a seat beside Leo, acutely aware of the strange intimacy of this moment—being included in what is clearly a family discussion, and one with significant political implications.
“You said the Prime Minister has been meeting with mining executives?” I prompt, accepting the cup of tea Kit pushes toward me.
She nods, her expression darkening. “Private dinners, unofficial meetings, even a weekend at Thorpe’s country estate last month. Jonathan’s source says they’ve been coordinating strategy on how to limit the sacred sites protection without seeming to oppose it outright.”
Leo’s jaw tightens. “That explains a lot.”
“It gets worse,” Kit continues, pulling a document from one of the folders. “They’ve already drafted lease renewals for three of the sites we specifically marked as high priority for protection, including the Valley of Whispers.”
“They can’t,” Leo says, but his tone suggests he knows they absolutely can.
“They shouldn’t,” Kit corrects, “but legally? There’s nothing stopping them if the protection bill doesn’t pass.”
“So we’re back to the original problem,” I observe. “Getting the bill through Parliament with enough teeth to actually protect the sites.”
Kit nods, but there’s a glint in her eye that reminds me forcefully of her brother when he’s about to suggest something unexpected. “Unless we find another way.”
Leo leans forward. “What are you thinking?”
“Royal proclamation,” she says simply.
Leo’s eyebrows shoot up. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? It’s within my constitutional powers.”
“It hasn’t been done in over a century,” Leo counters. “And it would cause a constitutional crisis!”
“Only if it’s seen as overreach,” Kit argues, leaning forward with intensity. “But if it’s framed correctly—as the Crown fulfilling its traditional role as guardian of cultural heritage...”
“The opposition would still have a field day,” Leo says, though I can see he’s considering it. “They’d paint it as monarchical interference in democratic process.”
“Let them,” Kit says with a dismissive wave. “I’ve checked with the constitutional lawyers. The preservation of cultural heritage sites has precedent in royal prerogative.”
I watch this exchange with fascination, seeing the siblings work through the political and legal ramifications with the ease of people who’ve been trained since birth for exactly this kind of high-stakes negotiation.
“It would be controversial,” I say carefully, “but perhaps that’s not a bad thing. The public generally supports protecting thesites—it’s just the mining interests and their political allies who are opposed.”
“Exactly!” Kit points at me triumphantly. “The people are with us. And frankly, I’m tired of watching Jane Beesley play both sides while our heritage is at risk.” She rubs her belly absently. “I want my children to grow up knowing these places, not just reading about them in history books.”
“There would be consequences,” Leo warns. “Political, possibly economic.”
“I know,” Kit acknowledges. “But sometimes—oh!” She cuts off suddenly, a strange expression crossing her face.
“Kit?” Leo straightens, concern immediate in his voice.
She holds up a hand, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine. Just a false contraction. I’ve been having them on and off since yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” Leo’s voice rises slightly. “Shouldn’t you be in the medical wing?”
“Don’t be dramatic. First babies take forever, and these are just practice contractions.” She shifts uncomfortably. “Now, as I was saying?—”
She stops again, this time making a small sound of discomfort that has both Leo and me on our feet.
“Kit,” Leo says firmly, “I think we should call the doctor.”
“It’s nothing,” she insists, though her face suggests otherwise. “Just Braxton Hicks. The doctor said they could start weeks before the actual—oh!”
This time, there’s no mistaking the visible pain as she grips the edge of the sofa, her knuckles whitening.
