“May, sir.”
“It’s nice to meet you, May. I'm Knox. I apologize for not making your acquaintance sooner; the grounds team and I have been a bit busy lately getting ready for everything. Thank you for the tea.”
May dipped her head, gratitude on her face as she turned pour a cup for Queen Isobel’s assistant, Mirabel, before leaving the room.
“Is everyone here?” Isobel asked Mirabel as the office door clicked shut.
“Yes, ma’am. The press are enjoying their refreshments in the Godric State Room. The women are in the Nickles room, waiting.”
“Thank you, Mirabel.” She scanned the room, taking count of everyone in attendance. “Oliver, where is your brother?”
“Probably drunk and passed out somewhere,” Oliver said. I gave him a wary glance, and he shrugged his shoulders.
I didn’t doubt Oliver’s love for Xavier, but his resentment toward him was clear. Not that I could blame him, but I had never heard him be so vocal about it. I wasn’t surprised that Xavier hadn’t shown up for the family meeting before the day’s press conference, but I was still disappointed in him. The least he could do was show up for a short period.
“Oliver,” King Leroy reprimanded, his voice authoritative. He turned to Isobel and his voice softened. “Everything will be fine, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arm around his wife, giving her a light squeeze. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before releasing the tension in her shoulders.
I tried not to let envy wash over me. I was happy for Leroy and Isobel—lord knew how rare it was for a royal marriage to be so full of genuine love and affection—but they had the very thing that I craved. The ability to comfort someone, to relax them with just a look or a touch, was a connection my parents had shared as well. I had always hoped to find that for myself, but it didn’t seem to be in the cards for me.
“You ready for this?” I asked Oliver.
“Sure,” he answered unconvincingly. Something was clearly wrong.
I pulled him aside and looked him in the eyes. “Hey.”Talk to me.
“I’m good,” he said quietly. He ran a hand down his face. “I’m annoyed that Xavier isn’t here is all. And…” He looked at his parents and then back to me. “When we came up with this, I didn’t realize it would stress Mum out so much.”
“Dude, let’s be honest, your mom would stress out over you getting engaged no matter how it happened and no matter who was involved. You know how she is.”
Oliver let a small smile roll over his face that said,You’re right.
“All right,” Isobel said from behind her desk as she straightened a stack of papers. Behind her, a window flanked by sheer cream curtains overlooked the bubbling fountain in front of the palace, the built-in heaters keeping the water running even in the winter temperatures. Looking at the peaceful visage, with the additional vehicles and valet staff just out of view, it was almost possible to pretend that this was any other November morning. “Boys, it’s time. Oliver, do you have your notes with the names of the attending press and who they are representing today?”
“Yes, Mum. It’s right here.” He picked up a piece of paper from the coffee table.
“Knox, darling. You’re going to sit in the front row next to Gram and Rosie, all right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Although I would much rather have been in the very back row, out of any pictures or attention whatsoever, I knew better than to argue with Isobel, especially when she was in planning mode. While Leroy and Isobel had initially shared my reservations when presented with the idea of the competition, Oliver had quickly assuaged their concerns, and the queen had taken on overseeing preparations in her typical organized, efficient manner.
We left Isobel’s office and made our way to the Godric State Room. The formal space had plush navy carpet with the Wexstone coat of arms—a golden shield bordered by pine boughs and featuring two blue lions standing on their hind legs, facing away from each other—inlaid at the center of the room. The high, champagne-colored walls were topped by a gold-filigree barrel vault ceiling.
Today, instead of formal dining tables or even the long table that usually sat at the far end of the room for pressconferences, about twenty chairs were arranged in rows in the center of the room. Facing them were nine velvet wingback chairs, each with a small table and a glass of water beside it. Journalists mingled as they waited for the event to begin, nibbling on pastries and sipping drinks from the tea and coffee stations set up around the periphery.
Isobel and her staff had taken the idea of giving press access to the inner workings of the courting season and run with it. Her idea had been to make the morning cozy and welcoming, rather than stuffy like a typical press conference. In that vein, she had suggested that Oliver serve as moderator, with the goal that it would make the attendees feel like they were having tea with him and the participating women. Isobel was a genius when it came to publicity and how to turn it in her favor, and we all hoped that this would mark a change from the negative press the family had received lately. What had started out as cynical rumblings around Xavier and the abdication had spiraled into piece after piece critiquing the royal family on every small thing they did or didn’t do. It was critical to bring the media back to our side leading up to Oliver’s coronation.
Oliver and Isobel greeted the attendees, making small talk and letting everyone know that we would begin soon. As the journalists settled into their seats and fired up their laptops, tablets, phones, and the occasional analog notebook, I stood back waiting with Leroy, Rosalind, and Evelyn.
“As much as I hate having these people in my home, this wasn’t a bad idea. Good job, son,” Leroy said to me under his breath.
“What?” I replied, shocked. “This wasn’t my idea at all.”
“You may not have come up with it, but if it were a bad idea and going to be a disaster, you wouldn’t have let him go through with it. He trusts you and your opinion.”
I was taken aback. Oliver and I were close, yes. But to have Leroy acknowledge my influence on his son was more meaningful than he could know. Leroy was a man of few words. Instead of sucking up all the air in a room with a loud, boisterous personality, he was quiet and reserved, observing even the smallest details that many didn’t notice. He was not effusive with his praise, rather doling out compliments only when they were most earned. It was a trait that he and my dad had shared.
“Well, time to put on my king hat and make some small talk.” He patted me on the back and stalked over to where the press sat.
“I think he’ll pull out of all this within two weeks,” Rosalind piped up beside me, her eyes following Oliver as he moved around the room.
