Page 6 of Royal Resistance

There has been a surge in the call for the abolition of the monarchy in recent years. I have a five-point plan to show them what a strong queen can do for the people. I will be that queen when I take the throne. It’s all arranged.

“I don’t understand,” I say.

My father’s handsome face softens. “I’m sorry, Selene.”

“What exactly are you sorry for?”

I’m supposed to be the next queen. I’ve given up friends, destroyed relationships because of duty. I’ve taken my responsibility to the people of Avelaine seriously, considered how every step in my life can benefit them, looked at every path leading into the future with the utmost seriousness. I know what is expected of me. I know how to rule.

I will be a good queen.

“You will not be queen after my abdication,” my father says sadly with a slow shake of his head. “Try the wine.”

Obediently, I take a mouthful, but the distraction is not enough to keep my words from erupting in a torrent. “But I have to be queen. I will be. You are giving up the throne for Lorraine, and I’m fine with that. I am. I’m ready for this, Papa. I want this. You know how much I want this. I’ll lead Avelaine, and I’ll do it well, just like you’ve taught me. You know I’ll do a good job.”

“Yes, I know that, Selene. This isn’t my decision.”

“Yes, it is. You’re the king.”

“But I still have to answer to the Charter. You know that.”

“I don’t understand.”

I sound like a child. I know I sound like a five-year-old on the verge of an epic tantrum, and just like a child, I don’t know how to stop it because it’s taking all my willpower not to hurl the contents of my wineglass, and the glass itself, at the wall.

Avelaine became a constitutional monarchy when my father took the throne at eighteen. The government had been worried that such a young and unexperienced ruler would need time to reach his full potential as a king, so the legislature was changed and the Constitutional Charter put in place, limiting his power.

“They accepted your abdication. They wished you well,” I remind him.

“There’s a provision in the Charter that we didn’t realize. Bryant discovered it last week.”

Bryant, my father’s chief councilor and advisor. The man who has been giving me more responsibilities and duties over the last few years, teaching me what needs to be done to prepare for my father to leaving his role—and I’ve done it all. Bryant has taught me how to rule.

“Why hasn’t he told me about this?”

“I wanted to do it myself.”

I grit my teeth. My entire body is tense, waiting to hear what he has to tell me. Waiting to hear how I’m not going to be queen is the truth because unless he can explain it to my liking, I will not believe it.

“There’s a succession clause—”

I’m supposed to be queen.

“—that says if I abdicate, the crown won’t be passed down to my descendants but will instead revert back to Nicholas’s family.”

“What? Why?” I explode.

And for the first time in my life, I curse. The slew of swear words—in three different languages, no less—has my father raising his eyebrow.

“Selene,” he admonishes.

“No.” The voice isn’t mine. It’s like I’ve summoned an otherworldly creature to fight for me. “This is your fault, and you will explain how this is possible. How it is that I will not be able to take the throne of my country.”

And he tries to.

King Nicholas had been a notorious gambler with an even greater appetite for wine. As his addictions deepened, so did Avelaine’s troubles, leaving the monarchy weakened and the kingdom teetering on the edge of ruin. When my grandfather, Nicholas’s second cousin, won the crown in a single unforgettable card game, most considered it less a scandal than a miracle.

“No.” I stop myself from slamming my hand on the table just in time. “Grandpapa won the throne fair and square. It’s not my fault that King Nicholas was an idiot to think three nines would beat a straight flush.”