“I’ve never been a king before,” I protest, “in my defense.”
“Freja was so much calmer after?—”
“Freja had a whole lifetime to prepare for this!” I frown. Mamma clearly needs the reminder.
“Well, at least your father hasn’t just passed away this time,” she says wryly.
And then I feel like a complete shit acting the way I am. And maybe on some level, I’m acting so weird because the change in monarch usually means a family member has died. Specifically, bringing back the memory of Papa passing away last summer by subconscious association. Papa’s death still cuts too close when I let myself think about it or, more to the point, feel it. It’s hardly been a year, after all.
My shoulders ease. “Mamma, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“I know you don’t mean anything hurtful, but please, darling, we all need you to lead by example right now. I know it’s a big change, but I also know you can be a great leader when you want to be.”
“Rallying everyone for a holiday is different than, say… kinging.”
Then my mouth is bone-dry, and the room too hot, and my eyes prickle in a way I really, really don’t want them prickling. Because then I’m thinking of Papa, who will always be the proper King to me, as well as my father.
“I don’t know how I’m going to do this. People will look at me, and they’ll be thinking up how I don’t measure up to King Christian.”
“You’ll make your own way,” she says firmly. “There are other young royals inheriting their thrones you can reach out to, along with your own family. You’ll need support. Like I said, you’ll have advisors too.”
One time, Auggie made some joke about the royalty group chat for advice, and it seems highly relevant now.
“So… maybe there’s one thing I should tell you, Mamma. I was supposed to fake-marry a man—well, technically real-marry a man—to make me seem… respectable. To help me be accepted as King.”
It sounds way more outrageous saying this out loud to Mamma than it did when James first floated the idea in my flat, all those months ago.
Mamma stares. And she Theodors me, and I groan.
“Theo,” she tries again. “I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”
I clear my throat and sit up straight, giving her my very best royal face. “I was going to marry Duke Edward of Wiltshire in order to make over my reputation and become all respectable to help me become accepted as the new King.” There’s a waver in my facade. “And… Eddie was actually really nice? I mean, yes, he’s considerably older, but very sensible. Top points for sense. You would have actually liked my fake husband very much.”
She’s gamely trying to digest all this.
“Maybe I should have saved this for lunch to tell Freja too.”
“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
I give her a sly look. “What, you want to keep secrets from my sister too?”
Mamma gives me a warning look before she shakes her head, and I grin in triumph.
“He was a very moderating influence, actually,” I offer, musing.
“Dare I ask… what happened?”
“I had a whole plan to marry him in July. Before the coronation celebration. If I’m getting coronated, that is.” I wave a hand. “We don’t really do that anymore.”
Mamma’s staring again. Possibly still. “July’s in two weeks.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Then… well. It’s off.”
“Well?”
I cough. “It’s a little complicated.”
Mamma gives me a look. “Theo, we’re discussing your?—”
