“Did you submit those blind items?” She stares at me for a long moment, her expression shifting.
“No, ma’am, I did not. I would never do anything to compromise the Crown.”
Her lips part slightly, and her eyes widen, and I understand that I’ve revealed more than I intended to.
“You’re in love with him,” she says.
I glance away from her and swallow hard. “Yes.” There’s no point in denying it, so I don’t.
She closes her eyes and exhales. When she opens them again, I see something I wasn’t expecting. It’s not the cold calculation I braced myself for, but genuine sorrow. It’s the kind that comes from watching something painful unfold and knowing you can’t stop it.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and she sounds like she means it. “I truly am.”
“With all due respect, that helps nothing. Those are pretty words, Your Majesty.”
I don’t know what else to do with her sympathy, so I pick up my brush and go back to painting.
“I reviewed the security footage from that day in his office,” she says after a moment.
My hand falters for a fraction of a second before I catch myself and keep the brush moving.
“The incident.” Her voice shifts back to something more controlled now, the brief vulnerability hidden behind her queen mask. “I watched everything. I don’t condone that behavior. It’s not princess-like in any manner,” she says. “But I also saw you enter the room and hand him a piece of paper.”
The note.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
All day, I’d thought about what I’d write to him, trying to find the perfect words to tell Louis that I’d fallen in love with him. I must have gone through a dozen versions in my head before I finally decided. Sometimes, the plain truth is better than pretty and perfect.
“I’m curious as to what it said.”
I dip my brush into the white. “With respect, Your Majesty, that’s between Louis and me.”
The silence that follows has weight to it, but it doesn’t feel hostile. It feels like two people standing on opposite sides of a coin.
“You wrote it on my stationery,” she says, and there’s something in her voice now, like she can appreciate the audacity even if she doesn’t approve of the sentiment.
“And?” I rinse my brush and load it with a warmer tone for the highlight along her brow bone. “I asked, and you gave me permission. You have very nice paper, by the way. Excellent weight. Smooth finish.”
“Thank you.”
I step back from the canvas to get a different perspective. The queen’s portrait stares back at me, half-finished but already capturing something essential about her. It’s regal and careful, but there’s a sadness that lives in the corners of her eyes. I’ve painted her as the protective woman underneath, the mother who told me she loves her son, wants him to be happy, and is genuinely sorry that happiness isn’t possible.
“I see what Louis admires about you,” she says.
I look up at her, surprised.
“You’re intelligent and talented, and you don’t back down, even when you’re standing in front of someone who could make your lifevery difficult.” She tilts her head, studying me with the same intensity I’ve used to study her. “You hold yourself as if you belong in any room you enter, and you’re not intimidated by power or position. Those are rare qualities, Miss Cross.”
“Thank you,” I manage because I genuinely don’t know what else to say.
“However, the timing is bad. Had you met a year ago …” Her voice goes soft. “In another life, perhaps. Another set of circumstances. But right now, Louis has obligations that cannot be set aside because he’s fallen in love.”
“You say that like love doesn’t matter.”
“It’s not needed to rule successfully.”
“I’d disagree,” I continue. “Love is what makes people fight for something bigger than themselves. It’s what makes sacrifice mean something. A ruler without love is just a person with power, and power without heart is dangerous.”
